2013.05.02 - The Morning After

The Morning After. If you're not actively engaged in a relationship, The Morning After can either be comfortable and cuddly, or it can be awful and awkward. At some point, Fern and One wandered downstairs and back up again, leaving a trail of overturned furniture and jostled bookcases in their wake. Oddly, a pair of boxing gloves have somehow ended up hanging from a ceiling fan. One and Fern eventually found their way back upstairs before climbing into bed to actually get some sleep. The living quarters are in a similar state of disarray, with the addition of a mostly empty bottle of scotch and what's left of a dessert platter sitting on the edge of One's desk. The doctor opens his eyes, knuckles at them, and glances over at Fern. Deep breaths. Lots of deep breaths. He reaches out to very gently tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then wriggles free from the covers and heads for the coffeemaker.

Any thoughts Fern might have had of returning the expensive dress (yeah, I know it was worn!) became history the second her back hit the wall for the first time. Now it will be the very expensive source of a smile every time she looks at it. It ended up on the floor, just one more heap among the discarded clothing, although it is the most sparkly heap by far. If she were asked, she would have no answer for the mystery of the boxing gloves, although she could tell you how scratches got on the matted floor. And on the weight bench. Her face is soft in sleep, red hair fanned out on the pillow, but she stirs as One slip away. There's a muffled groan and a stretch before Fern rolls onto her back. She doesn't have to look around to remember where she is, she knows exactly, and she looks up at the ceiling for a moment with a small smile. Then she props up on her elbows, eyes finding the tall, slim man. "Morning," she says softly, pulling the sheet up as it slips.

Never ashamed (at least physically), the only clothes One has bothered with are a pair of shorts. He's already got the coffee pot locked and loaded. By the time Fern greets him, the hiss of sweet caffeine in the making has filled the small living space. He looks up at the sound of her voice, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he turns around to face her. "Hey," he murmurs. "Good morning."

Fern leans to scan the floor, spies One's t-shirt, and stretches to snag it. She doesn't bother to hold on to the sheet, and nearly rolls out of bed for the effort. There's another groan. "Well, I didn't know -that- muscle could be pulled." A giggle floats up as she pulls the shirt over her head, inside out, and then she too slips out of bed. Bare feet pad directly over to the good doctor, her hand coming up as soon as she's near enough to make contact on his chest. Tilting her head, she asks, "Sleep well?"

"I managed to sneak a quick reboot while you were conked out. Glitch can work fast when he has to. Mostly, I just layed next to you." As strange as all that sounds, that's exactly what happened. One spent most of an hour creeping out of bed to keep from waking Fern, and actually used a keyboard rather than verbal commands while he was seated at his computer. Then, when he was finished, he climbed right back in next to her. Now that they're both awake, One finally takes a moment to look at the condition his place is in before his eyes come to rest on Fern. "We... Uh... Definitely. Yeah. You?"

Fern giggles, getting about the answer she expected. "I figured you would have. I think someone could have driven a tank through here and I wouldn't have woken up." Her fingertips stroke his skin lightly. "I don't know the last time I slept that well. No nightmares, either." As he looks around her eyes also wander, widening a little at the state of the place, and as she recalls they had... traveled.... she bites her lip to still another giggle. "I can.. uh... help you tidy things up later," is finally offered.

"I'm not too worried about it," is One's easy reply. "My mind's more on all this." He gestures back and forth between the two of them, the bed, and some of the other aftermath. "And what it all means. Do you know what it means? Because I honestly don't know what it means." His hand snakes up to cup Fern's and squeeze it, then he turns to pour them both some coffee. When he turns back, he offers her a cup of coffee and he's studying her curiously.

Accepting the cup, Fern immediately looks for the sugar, then puts the cup down and turns her attention fully on One. She chews her lower lip a moment before venturing, "Maybe it means we're better together than we are apart?" Stepping to the refrigerator she opens it, looking for milk, but she's actually just waiting for his reaction to that supposition.

"Maybe it does," One admits. "I really don't know. I've thought about what I'd say if you ever walked back through that door, but I didn't think it'd ever happen. And now all that carefully rehearsed shit seems... Well, like shit." He's always taken his coffee black, yet there's still a sugar bowl and a spoon next to the coffee pot and a freshly purchased carton of cream in the fridge. Unopened. Proof that the more things change, the more they stay the same. He shakes his head to bring himself back to the moment. "All this stuff, it's so messy," he continues. "Relationships are messy. Sex is messy. Especially when it's you and I. Look at this place." He pauses to smile at his little joke. "I just never thought we'd be having this conversation."

The cream is grabbed and it's noted that it's even there, and Fern steps back over, pulling the sugar bowl to her cup so she can 'fix' her coffee. She dumps in the third generous teaspoon of sugar, and peels the carton of cream open, pouring a similarly generous amount in. As she starts to slowly stir she looks up at One, her lips twisted wryly. "Life is messy. Sure, you can make it all neat and tidy and shut yourself away." The cup comes up and she takes an experimental sip. Candy bar in a cup. Mmmmm. She goes on as she puts the cream away, "I don't mind messy." The door is pulled open, carton set back inside, and she turns to level her eyes on him. "Do you?"

One rolls a shoulder in a gesture that looks distinctly uncomfortable. "Yes. No. Maybe? I don't know." Every. Single. Possible. Answer to that question. He looks confused. Very confused. "It's always been just me. Both lifetimes. Every time I decide I want to let somebody in, they see something they don't like. It always happens sooner or later. Even you haven't seen and heard it all. I've given up on pushing you away to protect you. That was stupid. I still don't know, though. I don't know what a regular person does in this situation."

Returning to her cup, Fern listens as she takes another sip, her eyes on the tan liquid. "I thought we were doing pretty well before..." everything. The cup is set down with a thunk, a dollop of coffee plopping out onto the counter, but her voice is gentle. "That's a risk everyone takes. I take it with you. You don't know everything about me. And even after... everything... I was still here." Detachable ears, plugging in to Glitch, kidnapping, clones. "Regular people don't even know what to do in this situation most of the time. It's not clean, it's not mapped out, it won't go according to any plan that can ever be made." She stops, sighing softly, her shoulders shrugging. "I don't know, either." A half turn and she got the cup again, drinking.

"I'm scared," One admits. His voice is barely above a whisper. "Of a lot of things. I'm still scared of you getting hurt. Me getting hurt. That there might be a thousand of me wandering around with bad programming. I'm scared that there are more like Nine and I won't find them in time. I feel like I'm scared of everything." He coughs into his fist, clears his throat, and takes his first sip of coffee. Until now, he's just been staring at it. "That's why I don't know what to do."

Fern steps over to One lightly, and gently takes his cup from his hands, putting it next to her own. Then she slides her arms around his waist, one more step presses her tightly against him as she squeezes. She just holds him for a minute, hands flattened, warm against his bare back, cheek pressed to his chest. When she pulls back it's only so she can look up to his face, her eyes searching his. "You make me feel less scared. Let me do that for you. Anything could happen to us at any second. If we spend our time worrying about what hasn't happened, we won't get to enjoy what -is- happening."

One seems to be giving this offer an awful lot of thought. Then, slowly, he nods. "It's going to take time to figure out where exactly we are. We've been through a lot. Everything went so fast last time." He wraps his arms around Fern and gives her a squeeze. "I'm glad we made it this far. I don't want to worry about what happens next. That's how things went sideways last time. Let's just see what happens."

Fern pulls a hand away from One's waist to bring it up and lightly trace his jaw. "There isn't a last time. It's still the same time. Our time. It's all part of the same thing, it just changes as it goes, like everything does." The squeeze is leaned into. "I want you to be happy, and I want to be happy. I haven't been that, truly, for weeks. I don't think you have been, either." Fern pauses, takes a breath, and steps back from the embrace. "I'm scared too," she admits softly. "I'm scared you'll send me away again, or go away." She keeps talking as she picks up his cup and gives it to him, her own in her other hand. "I'm scared of feeling empty forever. That you'll decide you really -really- don't like messy. Of being alone."

"I don't even know what I am, much less who I am or what makes me happy." One pulls in a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out as a long, low sigh. "Is this..." he pauses to makes a circular, sweeping gestures that indicates himself. "...really a level of mess you're ready for? A guy who screams in the shower when he can't decide if he has emotions or programmed responses? A guy who reboots instead of sleeps? A guy who chases half-assed leads halfway around the world to try and figure out what he is? After the last time, I'm almost one-third machine. Can you really handle all that? I don't even know if /I/ can handle it some days."

She doesn't try to interrupt, letting him get it out before she even attempts to say anything. When she does, Fern adds to the list he's started. "A guy who takes my nightmares away. A guy who laughs with me. A guy who shares his firsts with me," is the softest but most emphatically said. She shakes her head lightly, "I can't say there won't ever be something that I can't handle. But I think I've done a pretty damned good job so far. And I'm still here." She turns, abandoning the coffee and stepping away, picking up clothes and sorting them out. "I won't push you into anything you don't even know if you want."

"Wait." He's so fast. No longer next to the coffee pot, One is standing next to Fern and lays a hand on her arm. "Don't leave. I sent you away once. I don't want things to get messed up again because I let you walk out. Stay. Have breakfast. Talk with me. I've missed having you here."

It always only takes a touch to stay her, and Fern looks up as One is suddenly beside her. "Even if I left now, you wouldn't be rid of me. Not again. You don't know best. I don't even know best. But I know how I feel, and I'm not going to just let that happen again." She looks away to toss his pants into a 'his' pile and then shake out her dress. "I've missed you. It felt like there was a piece of my heart missing. A piece shaped like you." Her eyes return and there's a half smirk on her lips, "Breakfast? You hardly have anything to eat."

"Point," One concedes. "On all counts. Want to get dressed and go out for some..." he pauses to check his internal chronometer. "I guess it'd be brunch?" Either way, now seems like a good time to start putting clothes on. He opts for a fresh suit, dark grey with a matching tie and a white shirt. "I missed you, too," he finally says as he starts buttoning everything up.

Fern just nods, knowing that she was on solid enough ground there that even One wouldn't be able to find a counter point immediately. When he suggests they get dressed, Fern pauses, then looks at the dress in her hand. Then to him. "I believe I'll be woefully over dressed for brunch in this."

Halfway through tying his tie, One pauses to glance at Fern and arch an eyebrow. "I know. Why do you think I put on a suit? I'm not going to let you be overdressed alone." Then, smiling crookedly, he turns to an old-fashioned standing mirror and cinches the tie. He wasn't joking, either. Cuff links. A very respectable watch. When he's finished, he's fitted himself to match Fern's dress.

Fern had been busy finishing the clothes sorting, having to search rather thoroughly for her... dainties, finally finding them on top of the refrigerator. She doesn't notice how he's dressed until he mentions it, then she really looks. Her smile grows again, and she lays her dress over a chair to peel off his t-shirt, then wiggles into the dress. "You have no idea how special to me you are."

Six hours crumpled up on the floor and the dress still looks fantastic. One lets out a long, slow breath and smiles as he approaches Fern. "After everything that's happened, you're here. I think I'm starting to get the idea." Then, with surprising skill, he pulls the few pins and fasteners that are still stuck in Fern's hair. A few quick drags of his fingers through her locks, then he twists them up into a simple, classic style that leaves a few tendrils free to dangle by her cheeks. "There. You look beautiful," he whispers.

Fern stands still until he's done with her hair, then she reaches up in turn, to straighten his tie, even though it's already perfectly straight. "And you look -very- handsome," she returns. Her head tilts, one brow lifting ever so slightly. "I'm coming back here with you after brunch. You know that, don't you?"

"I don't think I could stop you if I wanted to, and I once threw a motorcycle like a javelin." Very, very slowly, One trails his fingertips down Fern's cheek. Then he chuckles, takes her hand, and tucks it in the crook of his arm. "C'mon. Let's go make everyone jealous of how goddamn good we look."