"Ordinary human unhappiness? Sounds good to me."
The emptiness in Robert's voice was haunting and as he turned back to his car, Barb couldn't stand it.
Her hand found his arm and he turned, willingly, like he didn't want to drive away and be in his boathouse, alone with the memory of his child and the bags of Lego and toy dinosaurs and pages of theories on a woman he didn't understand. He looked everywhere but into her eyes.
"The house of pain."
His voice almost cracked and he ducked his head to cover it. Barb watched him struggle, fighting her own instincts with the passion of a scientist's reason until she was defeated, spectacularly. She took a step forward, cupped Robert's face in her hands and kissed him. Carefully, but thoroughly. Like too much could hurt and not enough would be even worse. At first, he paused, and responded with fragile compliance. Then she felt his hands in her hair and his head tilt up to better return the kiss.
They fit together so well, if only for their equally broken and empty lives. As Robert pushed her back against her car door, she felt a tear touch her cheek. She didn't know he was crying.
Maybe he wasn't.
Eck! I have such a thing for Kate Duchêne, I'll even write het! Woe! Quick, back to The Worst Witch where we can slash her all we want. (Wow, that sounds violent. Aw, it's not. It's nummy.) And honestly, I was on an incredibly high dose of opiates and, oh, 3/4 of a bottle of red at this point? When I finished it, I mean. So please excuse the general fluffiness and .... yep. I really don't have an excuse for this. I was just sad and drunk and wishing there was more Barb on my Afterlife DVDs than there is :(