First off, I'd like to thank each and every one of you that has read my previous two CA one-shots (Memory Card, Headphones) and has reviewed and/or added to favorites. I honestly did not expect that type of response with either of those -shots.
Now, would you guys like me to make this a habit: sporadic prompt inspired one-shots? 'Cause I can if you want me to. (I probably will either way, I'd just like to see a head [review?] count.)
Oh! I'm also taking suggestions, which will be used in the case that I can not get a prompt with which nothing comes to mind. Or if I'm done with my prompt and I'd still like to write something. Something you'd like to see, just send it on over and I'll get to crackin'. :]
Disclaimer: I technically own the idea, not the characters you assume they are.
"You know what your problem is?" he yells at her, pointing a finger in her direction (and by some miracle pointing directly at her).
"Oh, so now I'm the one with the problem?" she barks back, incredulous to the fact that she was currently having an argument with him, of all people.
"You've always been the one with the problem! I'm surprised we've even made it this far!"
The words sting in her ears and cause her eyes to begin to tear. For once, she's glad that he's blind—he can't see the pain he's caused.
On the contrary, although he cannot see the pain, he can definitely feel the hurt he's caused her. He wants to take the words back—everything they've yelled at each other for the past hour and a half—but he knows he can't. What's done is done. Only thing left now is to move forward from the things they said.
"You know what?" she says, walking away to their bedroom. She grabs a pillow and a blanket and walks back to where he's still standing. Infuriated, she shoves the items in his arms, not caring if he's grabbed them or not. "Have fun sleeping on the couch."
With those words spoken, she pivots on her heel and walks towards their bedroom. She closes the door with a loud slam. Getting some kind of stress relief from the ruckus, she repeatedly slams the door, letting out a yell during her final slam.
Her mind still can't grasp the fact that they had an argument of such a large scale, especially around him. Smooth sailing her ass. He knew what he was getting involved in when he first proposed something between them. She agreed without a moment's hesitation. So what was the problem again?
Now that the door's finally shut, the tears come out. She can't hold them back anymore, and she's not that sure that she would want to. She shuts the lights off and goes to bed, hoping to catch some sleep after all the chaos and turmoil.
Sleep's the last thing that comes to her.
The giant teddy bear that he had gotten her when they first made things official lies next to her. She hugs it, not wanting to feel alone in their California King. It comforts her, during the nights when he's sleeping on the couch due to another argument of theirs. Just being in its vicinity brings her more pain, for it reminds her more and more of him—and right now he's the last thing she wants to think about.
She turns to the other side, forgoing the giant teddy bear and opting for the pillow she isn't using. That proves to be a worse idea on her part, for the pillow smells just like him. Come to think of it, the blankets, sheets, everything smells like him. Damn it, it's like she can't escape him! She goes for the teddy bear once more, deciding that if anything can help her sleep, it'll be that.
As she closes her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, his words finally hit her. He was right, she realizes. He was right and she was using that as a fact to push him away. He had successfully managed to get through her walls, and that fact alone frightened her enough to push him away. He was the only other person who actually made her feel alive while in love.
The fact that she had given her heart to him completely (and that he wielded the power to hurt her at any instant) frightened her the most.
Her mind's reeling with all of these thoughts for hours, and by the time she decides that sleep is something lost on her, it's past midnight. She decides to check up on him, for she did react rather harshly.
Slowly, she exits the room, not wanting to make a sound in case he had already fallen asleep. As she enters the living room, she notices that the television is still turned on, but the lights are off. She turns them on, cursing at the fact that the switch makes an audible click, causing him to jolt up on the couch.
"I woke you," she says, observing his frazzled state. "I'm sorry."
"No," he replies, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "I was merely watching television."
"Liar," she retorts, catching him in his web.
A small smile graces his face, rather strained. "Why are you up?" he inquires.
"Just coming to get a glass of water," she immediately replies, muttering the first thing that came to mind.
"Liar," he reiterates, using her word against her.
A small silence grows between the two of them, neither one knowing what exactly to say. And then, before either of them can think otherwise, they both say, "I'm sorry." They both laugh nervously.
He's the first one to make a move, getting up off the couch and successfully walking towards her. He raises his hand and trails it up her arm, shoulder, and neck before resting it on her cheek. She leans in to the familiar touch, placing her hand over his. She can't help the tear or two that slip out of her eyes.
"I'm not him," he assures her for what seems like the umpteenth time. "You don't have to worry about waking up one morning and finding a note next to your pillow with me nowhere in sight."
"I know," she tells him. "I just...I thought this time would be the breaking point. The time when you wouldn't be able to handle me anymore."
He laughed, smile now on his face. "It's going to take more than a few words to get rid of me, alright? Plus...it'd be kind of hard for me to write a note and leave it next to your pillow. I can type it, maybe, but that might be a bit impersonal."
She slaps his arm and can't help but laugh along with him. As their laughing subsides, he brings her closer and places his lips on hers. He's aware that she was crying, due to the small amount of salt on her lips, but he doesn't care. He puts his everything into the kiss, wanting to let her know that he means what he said: he isn't going anywhere, ever.
By the time they pull apart they're still sharing that one breath and her back's against the wall (when did that happen?). His grey sleeping tee is halfway up his torso and her sleeping shirt (one of his old button-up shirts) is unbuttoned down to her navel.
"You mind if I share the bed with you and the teddy bear?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper in her ear. "I know you'd rather sleep with him than me but—"
She silences him with another kiss, this one shorter than the previous one. Her hands rest at the back of his head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"The teddy bear is a good imitation of you, but I'd rather have the real thing."
She doesn't have to worry about her past anymore; he'd be the present in her future forever.