2019-07-07 - How Do I Love Thee

When she left she was sober, and she had to just do something...which evidently ended up taking her to the bar, so when she returns there is a little less sobriety to her. But she's at least quiet about it when she lets herself in, pausing at the door to slide her shoes off, leaving them on the floor, then her jacket, then her jeans are slid down off her hips.

It's totally normal to undress at the door, right? She takes a quick check of her clothes, making sure she doesn't actively smell like a bar before she heads towards Aidan's room.

Sure, totally normal! That will definitely not seem in any way weird to anyone.

...okay, given the relevant 'anyone' is Aidan, it actually might not. He's seen people do stranger things for no obvious reason. He's done stranger things for no obvious reason. And sometimes a person's just plain done with pants.

It seems moot, though, when she gets to the bedroom. Because it's empty. The sheets look rumpled, as though they've recently been slept in; he's not really a big maker of beds, but does generally at least tug the sheets up into place. That hasn't been done. Her timing is, however, superb, because she gets a handful of seconds to contemplate this, enough to come investigate or move to lie down or just wonder where he might be, and then suddenly, between one heartbeat and the next, he's there.

He is, in fact, also done with pants, although that's probably because he's in bed. Whether it was meant to be for the night or only to be a nap, he's asleep, and splayed out over a good deal of the air mattress. That's not that unusual, especially now that it's getting warmer in the nights. It's not the first night there's been shifts and whimpers, either, alas, though these are stronger, seeming closer to wakefulness, though not immediately reaching it.

It could be anything. Anything. Maybe she just didn't see him in the bathroom, and he just had to get up to pee. That's a very rational, reasonable thing to get up for but not make the bed.

So very reasonable that Baylee doesn't even think about it, just starts to take her shirt off once in the room and head for the air mattress so that she can crawl in. Which is what causes the problem, because between getting in it, and rolling over to get comfortable he's back, which means that her face rolls right into his hand.

Much like a cat that went to sniff something they shouldn't there is a blink and a snort of startlement before she pushes herself up onto an elbow, the reality and the oddness of the situation dawning on her as she reaches a hand out to shake his shoulder, "Aidan."

That would be a very rational and reasonable explanation! Shame it's not the right one today. And it's likely not the first time she's woken him up, even out of what seems like it might be a nightmare, but this is the first time he's come awake all at once when she tried, shying away like she gave him an electric shock rather than just a little shake. His eyes are wide, and he's suddenly breathing harder, staring for a few seconds before focus and higher levels of cognition begin to kick in.

"...Baylee," he says, more like an identification than a greeting, even if it's followed for some reason by, "Are you okay?" There's an odd edge of wariness still, rather than the relaxation that's usually come fairly quickly once he places who and where they both are.

The reaction is enough to cause her alarm, and she starts to sit up as well, frowning at him as she waits. Some people might reach out, try to touch him. But she's waiting until he gets back here, and now, mentally before she reaches out towards him.

"Yeah.." She replies, confusion evident in her voice, "Are you?" Which seems like so much more of an important question to be asked, given the reaction of waking up.

Aidan hesitates a couple seconds longer, studying her, and then nods, taking a slower breath. "I... yeah, I think. Mostly. Um. Sorry. I had a..." his focus trails off of her and over the bed that he's in, the room that's around him, and the words are softer as he finishes, "...bad dream..."

He sits up a bit farther, starting to look himself over -- hands, arms, that scar on his chest, fingers moving up to brush over his temples and the top of his head before they drop again. No sign of any wounds. Maybe it was just a dream dream? But then they didn't actually hurt him, did they? He did the only real hurting. If it was real. He gives his head a little shake and murmurs, "Sorry," again.

"Sorry?" Baylee is just growing more and more confused by the moment, but she has one idea. She scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to her feet, starting to head out of the room and towards the kitchen. Wagon she might be supposed to be on, but she knows there is beer in that fridge and with the whiskey having previously been exploded it is the best she's got. So she grabs one and brings it back to him, holding it out towards him, "You want to talk?"

There is only a seconds pause before she adds, "Or just forget that it happened?"

Aidan watches her get up and walk away, and runs both hands through his hair. Hair something's making sure he notices is not full of glass shards, reminding him it was, hers was, the feeling of glass shards puncturing skin--

He doesn't follow. She isn't long, and yet there's a flicker of something almost surprised on her return, as though he didn't entirely expect it. Maybe it's just the beer he didn't expect, since he does blink at it, and hesitate a moment longer before accepting it and giving her a small, crooked smile. A little of the other day's sheepishness, mixed with something more smitten and something harder to tease out. "Thanks," he says, gaze staying on her for a second before it drops to the beer. He doesn't immediately open it, toying with it a little instead.

"I was... I woke up. I was on this metal table. Strapped down. Under a sheet. There was a light shining down on me, and like... seating all around, like an amphitheatre. And it was dark in that area, and there were eyes. Different colours. Green, yellow, red. Moving like eyes don't. And a-- a doctor kind of guy. With... tools. Big things, sharp things. Some of them looked kind of rusty." It's not until then that his gaze lifts again, almost peeking at her.

When he takes the beer she settles down next to him, a hand reaching over to rest her hand against his leg, giving it a light squeeze. There isn't anything said as he starts to tell her the nature of the dream, just watches him. Listening.

The dream itself clearly causes her a bit of worry as she starts to frown, her brows furrowing a moment. "Sounds like the old medical um..." She pauses, struggling for the words, "Where they'd show off a surgery or something for medical school at the turn of the century." She scoots herself closer towards him, a hand lifting up to his cheek, "Did you get hurt again?" She starts to look over him, worry and something a little like fear rising in her eyes.

Something about that look mirrors itself in Aidan's eyes, and they search hers for a second before he remembers to take a breath again, blinking once and letting the breath out in a sigh, shoulders squaring and almost immediately settling as he leans into her, just a bit. "Yeah," he says then, "Probably that kind of thing, that doctor looked-- he had a big old fashioned beard." Which is a weird thing for him to seem as uneasy about as he does. Almost queasy-looking. "I'm not... we don't need to go get Bennie or anything, promise." And there is, indeed, no sign of any visible damage.

The beer stays in one hand, still unopened, but his other hand slips over to find hers, and intertwine their fingers. Gathering himself again before he says, "The doctor was saying how they'd-- put things in people's heads. Half-truths. That kind of thing. That they were going to give me an-- idea. That it was my reward. And he walked behind my head where I couldn't see him, with this big... steel syringey thing. And there was this kind of crunchy noise here," the beer indicates part of his head, "and he was talking about inserting this Idea, and it was setting off blue glowing light behind me and--"

He bites his bottom lip, and sighs. "I tried to destroy it. The Idea thing. But I couldn't. So I. Kinda. I set his beard on fire." It could very easily be funny. It isn't, not to him at least. "I needed him distracted long enough I could break the straps, and it worked, I broke the straps, I got free." It's the beer he looks at again to inform quietly, "He was screaming. They-- the eyes. The audience. They were happy. Gave me a standing ovation." How may be a lingering question, but he knows the truth of it regardless.

"An idea?" Baylee looks a little queasy about that, the very idea itself making her uncomfortable as she leans towards him, her hand not twined in his raises up, fingers sliding into his hair. It's not like she expects that she's going to be able to feel anything, find anything that screams 'insert idea here'. But that doesn't change the fact that she seems to check, her fingers pressing against his scalp, her eyes looking very, very worried.

"Di..well...um." This is a weird question, and an impossible situation. "Do you feel like there are any kinds of...difference in there?" Fear? Check. Worry? Check. She doesn't even mention the disturbing matter of them giving him a standing ocation. Yet.

Nothing unusual there at all. Aidan's hair feels like it always does. His scalp feels like it always does. He's still got her other hand, and he's still apparently studying the beer. "When I checked my head there was just a broken egg there. I never saw the... idea thing. So that-- nothing got literally shoved into my head, I guess? It's."

He breaks off, and the glance more directly toward her is surprisingly quick, given the rest. "You're scared. What's scaring you?" It should probably, otherwise would probably, be asked comfortingly, a pure matter of concern for her. Instead it sounds more as though the answer might be important. Manages to stop short of coming off aggressive, at least, so... that's good, right?

"I don't like the idea of them putting some fucked up idea in your head." It's pretty self-explanatory. Baylee probably didn't even realize that there was a need to explain that it bothered her. But he asks, and she answers.

"If you...notice anything weird, please tell me?" Baylee leans forward, her forehead resting against his, the closeness probably a bad idea since she hasn't brushed her teeth and he can probably smell the tequila there. "I can't lose you."

Maybe there wouldn't be, some other time. Right now there's something lingering with Aidan that's still a little off, like that initial wariness won't fully let him go. All the same, he hasn't pulled away, and when she rests her forehead against his, he closes his eyes and manages to relax into it a little. Might have been more so, if she didn't feel his brow furrowing against hers. If it's a matter of scent, he doesn't address it immediately, however.

"...yeah," he says instead, and there's a pause. "I don't like that either. Ideas are... hard, though. I don't want to tell you some of it 'cause then those thoughts'll be in your head too. And I don't... I don't wanna lose you either." His eyes remain shut, breathing a little bit calmer now. "They want me to think they're the ones on my side. Whatever they are. That they want to help me." A beat. "I don't believe them." But maybe not so strongly he isn't a bit shaken.

He doesn't want to lose her. She doesn't want to lose him. They've been together months, has it been months already? Baylee hasn't really tracked it, honestly. Maybe if she'd been more careful about tracking these things she'd be less ready to say something. The dreaded words. Maybe they aren't dreaded? Maybe they are.

She'd probably run if someone said them, probably has run in the past when someone has said them. But that doesn't stop her tonight as she tightens her fingers in his hair, "I love you, Aidan. Secrets like that'll kill us...you can't keep this bottled away. Telling me won't make me go away."

Is it months? Aidan probably hasn't exactly been keeping tracking either; there's reasons he gravitates to work that doesn't particularly care whether or not he shows up on a given day. When would he even count from? But whatever literal length might say, throw in a near-death experience here and there and time definitely seems to expand in other dimensions.

Which is to say that that, at least, is probably not itself a factor in the fact that his first reaction is his eyes popping open, startled, when he parses those words, or that the second involves a couple blinks and, "You--?" He doesn't pull away, at least, and it's only another breath before a sudden and frankly kind of dorky grin. "...I love you, too." There's something about it that gives the impression of held breath just after, without actual breath being held -- like part of him might be waiting for the ceiling to collapse, or something else to explode, or this to end up another piece of that Dream. But if it is... well, it can do it while he's kissing her, at least. The beer's forgotten next to him in the process, which unfortunately means the hand that finds the back of her neck is slightly damp and cold from holding the refrigerated can. But there's worse things, right?

It could be an exploding bottle at the back of her neck, which would probably round out the fucked upness sort of nicely. Not that anyone actually wants that. Cold and damp she can handle, because he didn't run, the ceiling hasn't fallen in, yet. And as far as she knows this isn't another part of the terrible dream that happened. That kiss is leaned into, her other arm curling around him, hand pressing flat against his back as a very tiny bit of tension eases out of her.

But there are so many other things to be tense and worried about, and eventually that kiss has to break, and when she pulls back it isn't very far. She's still close enough that he can feel the brush of her breath against him when she points out, "I'm not going anywhere without you." Which might be a nice idea in the moment, reality might always have different opinions in the future.

Aidan is not in a hurry for the kiss to break, but -- well, yes, sooner or later it can't be helped. His fingers are at least warmer and dryer by then, which is nice, since he doesn't seem to feel he needs to reclaim them as yet. He appears to be mulling things over a bit, but potential vetoes from reality aside, her assertion isn't one of them. It gets a small nod, small as necessary to keep from either having to pull back farther, or ending up bonking heads. Well. Any harder than actually happens, but it's at least in the non-painful range.

"Together," he agrees, and then his hand does move, fingertips sliding around to run down the edge of her jaw. "You kinda taste a little like tequila, y'know." Quiet still, and it's an observation rather than a judgement, if one that he's now settled in this reality enough to make connections from. "Definitely okay?" Further detail on the ideas might be part of what's getting mulled, but it's at the least getting a brief delay.

The mention that she tastes like tequila is a sobering thought. Because reality has a way of reasserting itself, sometimes. "I met Lex." Which would seem to have a strange connection to why she tastes like tequila, maybe. But the story comes out, her fingers loosening their hold on his hair, combing through it slowly, fingertips slide against his scalp. "I went for a walk while you were sleeping...couldn't sleep, so thought...why not?"

Why not indeed. "Went to the Pourhouse to just grab a Coke, and ran into her there. She was trashed...evidently had some bad night with the dude she was sleeping with, who I guess she was living with?" Which begs the question of did Aidan know? Not that Baylee lingers, since there's more. Always more. "I felt bad, so she's crashing at my place till she sorts her shit out...figured I could just stay here with you."

Since she does already anyways.

Okay, the mention that she met Lex is maybe a little sobering as well; Aidan might not have expected that to be an issue at one point, but after the other night he's a tad less certain. Particularly when it comes in response to noting that particular taste. He lets his fingers trail down the side of her neck, but stays quiet, listening as she goes on. Either he's not trying particularly hard to hide his reactions right now, or he's doing really badly at it, because they're clear enough: a tiny wince at the mention of dropping into a bar for a Coke that suggests he sees the inherent peril there, a wrinkle of his forehead that implies the dude situation may in fact be new information to him, and a sudden quiet laugh when she relates the solution she came up with. It doesn't last long, since he's busy kissing her again at that point.

When he stops, he leans their heads together again, instead. "You're kinda great, you know," he murmurs, sliding a hand through her hair in turn. "And you can always just stay here with me. I mean. Unless we decide to stay somewhere else now and then, I guess. But same thing." Always more, but he's not in a hurry to get to... any of it, right this moment.

Well, kissing is never back. Pretty much always okay, honestly. So much okay that she seems to be reluctant to actually stop with the kissing when the time comes, enough so that she makes an unhappy sound at it. The sound, at least, is brief when he mentions that she's great, one corner of her mouth twisting upwards before she points out, "You're kind of great, too."

Kind of? Very. Amazing. "Wait, we together we, or we separate for a night we?" Important questions, and it stalls on some of the rest of the things that need to be said, maybe. She's certainly not pushing at the idea situation, well, she wasn't. Because her mind carries her right back around again, and she gets back to the cause of her sudden declaration. "You know you can tell me anything."

The temptation to lean on more than his standard empathy is briefly fairly strong, and at the same thing something more than the knowledge that sometimes people know takes a strong stance against it, somewhere in the base of Aidan's brain. The brief battle creates a momentary pause, but handily her addition buys that time pretty decently. "Well," he says, "I was meaning we-together-we, when I said it. I guess we-separate-for-a-night-we technically works there too, since you can't stay here with me and stay somewhere else at the same time? But. I meant both of us off somewhere else. Like if we went to..." he considers a moment, and smiles a little as past conversation pops up in his memory, "LA or something?" Good thing if she's got to this point she's got to be used to answers like that, right?

Thinking about the other part, the tell-me-anything, that makes the worry a little clearer again. "...what if that's what they want, Bay? What if they want me spreading the things they said to me so they're in other people's, so they're in your head too? I'm... what if it'd be a way to use me to hurt the people I trust? Or eat away at the trust?" He gnaws his bottom lip, then shakes his head a little. "I need to think about it more. But. But I'll tell you if-- if there's anything that seems... weird, like it's messing with me." Sure, he'll definitely be entirely aware if that happens.

"You have a passport?" Speaking of LA or something. Baylee seems to be well adjusted to what is happening, in so far as things jumping from one thing to another, at least. She can do that little trick too, it seems.

But more importantly, the things in his head. "What if that is what they want you to think? What if this is what they want you to think, and keeping it inside is going to like....Drive you crazy or something?" She shakes her head, hand sliding through his hair once more, then to his neck, touching him there before her thumb settles against his jaw, "But okay, you tell me when you're ready. Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

Aidan shakes his head. "I'm pretty sure I don't need one to go to LA though." It's not sarcastic. He is in fact pretty sure he doesn't, but at this moment not wholly closed to the possibility that something changed, or that he was just lucky no one ever asked for one. However, he's also not so distracted by other things right now that he misses the more reasonable potential explanation of, "Were you thinking we could maybe go up and visit Canada instead? It is closer..." And that'd be a reasonable factor. But, you know. No, he doesn't have a passport.

He tilts his head into her touch, and then nods, just a little. "I'll tell you when I think I can," he says, 'thank you' in the tone if not the words, "and... I don't know. I could try, though."

"Canada? No. London." Baylee shakes her head at that, because Canada? Really? She doesn't seem to have any idea or desire to go to Canada. But she does have a desire to drag him off to London, it seems.

"We can try to go back to sleep." Or in her case, sleep. "Or we can go curl up on the couch and watch a movie." And she can sleep. Either way, she seems to be up for whichever eventuality he might decide on.

Hey, Canada's practically next door! Aidan blinks. "Like, England London?" No, Aidan, Indiana London. It's been a long night; he gives a brief upward flick of the eyes at his own question, lips quirking up faintly. "Well. That'd definitely be the farthest away I ever went. We could see if they'll let me have a passport?" He's got very little idea what's involved, except probably some kind of forms and money. And a picture. But he's game.

He slides his hand through her hair again, then takes a look at the air mattress. "...let's curl up on the couch. And watch a movie and see if we fall asleep." His hand drops, claiming hers again, but he leans in to steal another kiss rather than standing right away.

There is a very obvious agreement to the location of the London she had in mind. When he leans towards her there is a faint smile, then she leans back in to meet him, giving that kiss back, and then pressing for a little more.

More. She could go on and on, getting more. But the reality of needing sleep, and hopefully restful sleep, is a real one. So after the kiss she makes the decision to get to her feet, drawing him up to his feet as well, "Come on...I call dibs on being the little spoon." If anyone is going to roll off the couch, it seems, then that'll be her.

By the end of that kiss, Aidan looks as though he might be giving a bit of thought to the whole 'more' thing as well, but-- well, he's being drawn up, and cooperates. The beer catches his eye, and he picks it up as well, then lets her lead him out toward the living room. "Well... if you insist." There's a little too much smile for it to really sound like he has any objection, even if he has wrangled his way into that position now and then. For this now, there's an awful lot he can think of less appealing than lying on the world's most comfortable ugly couch and watching something mindless with her in his arms. Some of it's no more than an hour or so past. But at least this is now.

Once in the living room she goes for the television, turning it on to whatever happens to be on. It doesn't even matter what is on, honestly. There is television, then a blanket is found and she makes sure all the lights are off before snuggling into the couch for the rest of the night.