[There's little she can do to freak him out at this point unless she decides to freak out for whatever reason, so her sigh sends up a flag and makes him stop. He doesn't (can't, maybe) pull away completely — his hands stay where they are and he remains pressed against her, but he pauses the kissing and instead rests his forehead against hers.
When he speaks, his voice sounds soft and curious. A little concerned, too.]
[Somehow, this feels more intimate than the kissing, which is just - bad, things keep getting worse, more tangled up and confusing when she had hoped this might make it easier.
She's an idiot.]
I don't-- [She has no idea how to explain, or at least how to explain without sounding weird.] Doesn't matter.
[She knows he won't buy that, won't let it go, but she doesn't know what else to say.]
[At least she's in good company, because Saul has also just realized that things are now (probably) exponentially worse than they were ten minutes ago. But she thinks it's bad; he doesn't think anything. Good, bad — who cares? What does it matter?
Maybe his judgment is a little clouded.
He bumps noses with her, frowns a little.]
What — this? [He traces one of her scars with a fingertip, gaze flicking up to meet hers. Is that what this — Oh.
[She manages to hold his gaze for a second before she has to look away, jaw clenched tight. It'd be easier if she could nod, but that's a little tricky to do with him so close.]
Yeah. [Her voice sounds strained, but she doesn't know how to make it steadier. Maybe the ground will helpfully decide to swallow her up so she can stop existing for a little while.]
[That'd be inconvenient, if she just disappeared like that. Weird, too.
Anyway, it's not like that would be possible even if the ground did decide to do that — they'd both have to go.
Saul's not sure how to proceed. Given all she's told him, those scars could be from anything. He might be pushing it, lightly touching and exploring them the way he is, but this whole situation is nothing but pushing it. It's just a question of how far is too far.
Another kiss, soft and slow and trying to somehow be comforting, following by a questioning tilt of his head. Is this helping? Making it worse? Talk to me.]
[She's not quite breathing right again, but this time it isn't because she's distracted by kisses, but because something like panic is settling heavy in her chest. The sound she makes against the kiss is soft and pained, as her fingers scramble for his arm, gripping firmly to make him stop.]
Don't. [Her heart is beating too fast and she feels a little trapped, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to remember how to breathe.] Please stop.
[She shakes her head, trying to dismiss his apology and his alarm, even as she's pressing the back of her hand against her mouth and leaning her weight against the wall.
It takes her a moment to steady herself, but she... sort of manages, wrapping her arms protectively around her waist before she can bring herself to look at him again.]
S'okay. It's not your fault.
[It's not like she gave him a map for how to navigate the mine field of her bullshit.]
[His arms fall to his sides. There's a not-pleasant feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, that same old guilt again — he pushed it too far last time, he sent her up to the roof earlier, now this.
He reaches out like he's about to touch her arm, then draws his hand back a little too quickly.]
[She sounds a little choked, but after a few more steady breaths she manages to nod a little more convincingly.
It's a lie, but she doesn't want him to feel bad about this, when it's probably just the universe punshing her for thinking any of this wouldbe a good idea.]
He smiles. It's not amused or happy or positive in any way, but there is plenty of warmth behind it.]
Lying again, huh.
[Saul wants so desperately to to fix this, somehow. And he keeps telling himself he doesn't know what to do, but that's a lie; he just doesn't want to admit or follow through with the only real solution.
Saul could kick himself for turning into such a sap so quickly. Three months. Not even, technically speaking. Three months and all his carefully-crafted defenses have been blown apart to the point where he doesn't just love people he shouldn't (Jesse), but —
Yeah, okay. Time to admit it: he's in love with Stephanie. And has been. For weeks.
The thought almost makes him roll his eyes, it's so pathetic. What's next, running out to buy a bright red convertible? Oh, wait. He can't.
He reaches out again. For her hand, this time, and stops himself just before he makes contact with her skin — waiting to see if she'll take the offer.]
[In the continuing theme of terrible ideas, Steph takes Saul's hand, loosely tangling their fingers together as she closes the distance between them again. There's no kiss, this time, instead she's resting her forehead against his shoulders, eyes closed, hoping he'll get the message and give her a hug. She feels like she could really use one, right now, even if somehow this feels more dangerous than the kisses.]
[He's quick to untangle their fingers, but only so he can wrap both his arms around her, more than happy to oblige her with a proper hug.
The shaky sigh that passes his lips is barely noticeable save for a slight rise and fall of his chest, but even then, he tries to play it off like he's getting a little more comfortable; he tilts his head to rest his cheek against her hair, settles his arms around her shoulders, and silently thanks God and all the angels in Heaven that Stephanie can't see the look on his face right now.
This is —
Just.
Shit.
Kissing her was so much easier. Where's the distraction in this?]
[There are a lot of things she hates, but feeling weak is right up there next to people made out cockroaches, so she hates how much she needs this hug, right now. She hates how much she's clinging to Saul, but she can't make herself pull away like she knows she shoulnd.]
[For freaking out on him and being a jerk and letting this happen, when she knows this has to be it. She's not sneaking around behind Ellie's back to have some - affair with a man twice her age.]
You should probably go home.
[She's just going to run; even without her grapple gun, she just needs to run along the rooftops for a little while to try to clear her head.]
[He almost makes a crack about home being too far away for him to get to, but doesn't. She's right, though; he should get the hell out of here. It's just really hard to see the logic behind why, when he's got her in his arms like this.
Saul turns his head, presses a kiss to her hair, and finally — finally pulls away completely. Without looking at her, he retrieves his coat from where it lay discarded on the floor, dusts it off, straightens it out, fidgets with the fabric until he realizes this is bordering on awkward, then stops.
The thing is, he's suddenly afraid to meet her gaze. Like the truth about what just happened is written all over his face and she'll see it if he's not careful, but — that's silly.
So he glances over just long enough to nod — yeah, he should go, and he is — and say:] See you around, Steph.
[It should make her feel better, the knowledge that they've actually managed to find enough self control to walk away, but if anything she just feels worse, watching him getting ready to leave.
She's not really thinking, when she steps forward to catch his wrist, holding on for just long enough to kiss him once more, light and quick, though she lingers for just a moment.]
Sorry. [Whispered against his lips, and she thinks about kissing him again but knows that if she does, this time they won't stop.
Instead, she pulls away, runs away, slipping out the roof exit and letting the night swallow her up.]
[And he just — stands there for a few minutes that feel more like a few hours, dazed.
This didn't fix anything at all. Why did he ever think it would?
Saul shakes his head to break the trance, then turns on his heel to head for the stairs. Then stops mid-step, looks back toward the door, and makes one final potentially stupid — but sincere — decision before he heads off to throw himself into bed.
So if Stephanie comes back in this way, and if she's too cold or too wet, she can feel free to take his coat. Because he left it for her.]
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controlledvariable) wrote2014-02-02 07:59 pm
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When he speaks, his voice sounds soft and curious. A little concerned, too.]
What?
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She's an idiot.]
I don't-- [She has no idea how to explain, or at least how to explain without sounding weird.] Doesn't matter.
[She knows he won't buy that, won't let it go, but she doesn't know what else to say.]
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Maybe his judgment is a little clouded.
He bumps noses with her, frowns a little.]
What — this? [He traces one of her scars with a fingertip, gaze flicking up to meet hers. Is that what this — Oh.
She noticed, huh?]
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Yeah. [Her voice sounds strained, but she doesn't know how to make it steadier. Maybe the ground will helpfully decide to swallow her up so she can stop existing for a little while.]
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Anyway, it's not like that would be possible even if the ground did decide to do that — they'd both have to go.
Saul's not sure how to proceed. Given all she's told him, those scars could be from anything. He might be pushing it, lightly touching and exploring them the way he is, but this whole situation is nothing but pushing it. It's just a question of how far is too far.
Another kiss, soft and slow and trying to somehow be comforting, following by a questioning tilt of his head. Is this helping? Making it worse? Talk to me.]
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Don't. [Her heart is beating too fast and she feels a little trapped, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to remember how to breathe.] Please stop.
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So there's his answer, then: too far.]
I — sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't — [His voice drops off there; he doesn't know how to finish that sentence.]
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It takes her a moment to steady herself, but she... sort of manages, wrapping her arms protectively around her waist before she can bring herself to look at him again.]
S'okay. It's not your fault.
[It's not like she gave him a map for how to navigate the mine field of her bullshit.]
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He reaches out like he's about to touch her arm, then draws his hand back a little too quickly.]
Are you okay?
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Yeah.
[She sounds a little choked, but after a few more steady breaths she manages to nod a little more convincingly.
It's a lie, but she doesn't want him to feel bad about this, when it's probably just the universe punshing her for thinking any of this wouldbe a good idea.]
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He smiles. It's not amused or happy or positive in any way, but there is plenty of warmth behind it.]
Lying again, huh.
[Saul wants so desperately to to fix this, somehow. And he keeps telling himself he doesn't know what to do, but that's a lie; he just doesn't want to admit or follow through with the only real solution.
He doesn't want to leave.]
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It's not-- I don't want you to feel bad.
[Which is true.]
It was stupid, don't worry about it.
[Her reaction and that near panic attack, the fact that she gets dragged so painfully into the past that she can't breathe.]
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Saul could kick himself for turning into such a sap so quickly. Three months. Not even, technically speaking. Three months and all his carefully-crafted defenses have been blown apart to the point where he doesn't just love people he shouldn't (Jesse), but —
Yeah, okay. Time to admit it: he's in love with Stephanie. And has been. For weeks.
The thought almost makes him roll his eyes, it's so pathetic. What's next, running out to buy a bright red convertible? Oh, wait. He can't.
He reaches out again. For her hand, this time, and stops himself just before he makes contact with her skin — waiting to see if she'll take the offer.]
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The shaky sigh that passes his lips is barely noticeable save for a slight rise and fall of his chest, but even then, he tries to play it off like he's getting a little more comfortable; he tilts his head to rest his cheek against her hair, settles his arms around her shoulders, and silently thanks God and all the angels in Heaven that Stephanie can't see the look on his face right now.
This is —
Just.
Shit.
Kissing her was so much easier. Where's the distraction in this?]
this hurts me
Sorry.
[For everything.]
sorry (not counting this one in the final tally)
[His voice sounds a little strained — probably because this hurts. If anyone should be apologizing, it's him.
He holds her a little more tightly.]
Don't. You don't have to apologize for anything, okay?
what was the final tally?
[For freaking out on him and being a jerk and letting this happen, when she knows this has to be it. She's not sneaking around behind Ellie's back to have some - affair with a man twice her age.]
You should probably go home.
[She's just going to run; even without her grapple gun, she just needs to run along the rooftops for a little while to try to clear her head.]
idk I didn't do it yet
Saul turns his head, presses a kiss to her hair, and finally — finally pulls away completely. Without looking at her, he retrieves his coat from where it lay discarded on the floor, dusts it off, straightens it out, fidgets with the fabric until he realizes this is bordering on awkward, then stops.
The thing is, he's suddenly afraid to meet her gaze. Like the truth about what just happened is written all over his face and she'll see it if he's not careful, but — that's silly.
So he glances over just long enough to nod — yeah, he should go, and he is — and say:] See you around, Steph.
gosh
She's not really thinking, when she steps forward to catch his wrist, holding on for just long enough to kiss him once more, light and quick, though she lingers for just a moment.]
Sorry. [Whispered against his lips, and she thinks about kissing him again but knows that if she does, this time they won't stop.
Instead, she pulls away, runs away, slipping out the roof exit and letting the night swallow her up.]
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This didn't fix anything at all. Why did he ever think it would?
Saul shakes his head to break the trance, then turns on his heel to head for the stairs. Then stops mid-step, looks back toward the door, and makes one final potentially stupid — but sincere — decision before he heads off to throw himself into bed.
So if Stephanie comes back in this way, and if she's too cold or too wet, she can feel free to take his coat. Because he left it for her.]