Gable would not have claimed that he fled from Maritza's room, but if he moved with more determination than he normally did then it was no one's business but his. WIth so many residents it was hard to strictly follow his nose to find Shay. Luckily for him, he knew her well enough to know where to look. The gym proved to be empty, but given that she had signed up to be in the clinic that afternoon she would want to shower beforehand. She must have read his message beforehand.
Eventually, he found her in her room. This was better, he decided. They should have privacy. Knocking, he waited for her to answer. "Thank you for helping me this morning," Gable said as soon as the door opened. "I know you have questions. May I come in?"
That was the easy part, of course. Gable had been so focused on trying to find Shay before Maritza posted on the network that he did not even begin to think about what he would actually say once he found her. Or how he would go about sharing what the new vampire had told him. He stood just within the door and looked around the room, feeling a little lost. How was he supposed to share that their future had been taken from them?
Hi honey, I've got a strange lady vamp in my room with me, can you bring us some blood? was not a message Shay had expected to get... well, ever, but there she was, grabbing two blood bags from the fridge and schlepping them upstairs to Gable's room. He'd been quick to answer the door and then kind of block it, which did absolutely nothing but raise her curiosity, and so to avoid being the weirdo who hung out in the hallway trying to listen through the door - something that wouldn't fly considering he'd be able to hear her heartbeat - she went back downstairs and hit the gym. He'd said they'd talk later, and so she had to trust that he'd find her later.
Much later, since she was about to head into a twelve-hour shift in the clinic.
Finishing her workout, she'd showered and was just finishing with her hair, blow drying it into its usual wild tousle of curls, when the vampire in question came knocking. She'd answered the door to him in her robe and underwear, but something about the way he was standing there in her room like he didn't know what to do next was mildly alarming, and she decided she wanted real clothes for whatever came next.
"I do have a lot of questions," she said, as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater that left one shoulder bare. "Or well, maybe just a couple but they're pretty big questions. Like, what the fuck was up this morning? They dropped a starving vampire on us? What's up with that?"
Gable's gaze turned towards the window as he tried to parse together what he was going to say. Thankfully, Shay was never one to wait and immediately began to fill the silence with her questions. It gave him a starting place at the very least. "She was part of another experiment before coming here. The only vampire among mundane humans."
He was dragging it out. Making it more painful than it needed to be. But how could he shatter the hope they all had that they would be able to return to their lives. Irrevocably changed, of course, but able to go back to who they used to be. And now they had years, decades of remaining in place in front of them.
"She was also the only one left of her experiment." Gable took a step towards Shay. It was as if he kept his voice quiet then the impact would not hit as hard. "They had her and the other members in a bunker reminiscent of a fallout shelter. Since 1963."
There. He said it, the words hanging in the air between them. As much as Gable wished he could have eased it, cushioned the blow, there was nothing he could really do.
Shay's expression was sympathetic as he explained the other vampire's predicament. They all knew there were other weird areas; she imagined it was pretty jarring to be taken from one and dumped in another. And being the only supernatural must have been rough, too. She wondered briefly if the other vamp had been hiding it the whole time or if she'd come out the way they all had with each other. But she didn't ask, because Gable was still speaking.
She took a seat at her desk, frowning when his voice lowered. As soon as he said 1963, she laughed. She couldn't help it. The notion was so absurd - sixty years? What experiment could possibly last sixty years?
"Hell of a time for you to lean in on practical jokes," she said, snorting and rolling her eyes at him. "Come on. What really happened?"
Gable did not smile or laugh or otherwise change his expression. He could not blame Shay for thinking he was being facetious. After all there was nothing that guaranteed that Maritza was telling the truth other than his own intuition.There were things should have lied about, but to what end? The most logical conclusion was to believe her.
"It is as I told you. Maritza was the last of her experiment. After… outliving the humans." A vampire's agelessness, his agelessness, was not a fact they dwelled upon. Why would they when they clung to the belief that this was all temporary? But now they had to face it head on, with all the ugly consequences that it brought. "They left her for an undisclosed period of time until they brought her here."
It was to be their first Christmas here. But not their last. At least, that is what they were now all led to believe.
"That is all I know."
Shay grinned at him for a second longer until she realized he wasn't breaking. It was now either a joke in very poor taste, to insist when she already told him to give it up or else... he was telling the truth. Her smile faded and she stared at him for a second, a tight, coldness forming in the center of her chest.
"There's no way," she said through suddenly numb lips. "There's no fucking way." She'd never thought much about Gable's immortality; truth be told, she'd assumed they would be gone from the experiment and likely each other well before then, parting ways whenever he tired of her or she inevitably did something to screw them up. She was sometimes surprised she hadn't already.
The thought of living her entire life in the tower, caged into this abandoned empty town, made her head spin, and she was glad she was already sitting. "Sixty years? You're fucking joking."
"Why would I joke about something like this?" Gable snapped. Immediately, he regretted his tone, but he could not take it back. He took a step towards where she sat at her desk and paused. In a gentler tone he added, "This was not what any of us wanted to hear, but I did not want you to find out any other way."
He watched her then, seeing that smile fade from her lips and wondering if that would spread to her gaze. Ice creeping up, shutting him out."I do not know what to tell you other than what I already have done. I do not have the answers. I am sorry."
Suddenly, it felt like there was so much that he needed to apologize for. That time would have no outward effect on him. That he had lived and would live. That he was just as powerless in this situation as everyone else. He could not protect her from this. "I do not know what to say," he confessed. "I did not think that far ahead."
"It was fucking rhetorical," Shay snapped back immediately. "Obviously I know you're not joking now." His humor was sly and understated, the kind of dry sarcasm that never failed to make her snicker or snort with laughter. This wasn't a funny joke and he knew that, of course he knew that. It might have been at first, but to insist would have been in poor taste. Gable didn't do poor taste.
She pushed herself up from the chair, needing to move, to pace, like an animal testing the bounds of her cage. Except the room was just one boundary. Outside was the rest of the tower, another, and outside that was the town. The last barrier, the one she'd tried so hard early on to cross and never could.
For a moment, she wanted to ask why he'd told her in the first place. Life would have been infinitely more blissful in the tower if she hadn't known, but she dismissed it without making the accusation because of course it was better to know.
She shoved a hand through her hair, heedless of the style. "I don't know what the fuck to do with this," she said, feeling like she had to work to pull in each breath. "I just... what the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" He didn't have the answers any more than she did, but a creeping panic wanted her to run straight for the closest barrier and throw herself at it until she got through. “Sixty fucking years.” She’d be ninety five, a feeble old woman. If she made it that far.
He wanted to reach out and hold her, soothe some of that tension he could see forming along the lines of her shoulders and back. But would she accept that? At his side, his hand twitched in total disregard to his conscious thoughts. He would be the one she railed against until she had her fill.
"It is just one possibility," Gable allowed, through it was hard to tell who he was trying to convince more: Shay or himself. He allowed himself to take a step towards her pacing form in an attempt to offer comfort but also to give her plenty of time to refuse if she wished. "What happened to Maritza is no guarantee we will have the same fate. And there is nothing to say that we have to do anything right now. Today. Or tomorrow."
He opened his mouth and closed it again. He always felt like words came harder to him. And how could he truly say something that would make Shay feel better when he had all but offered her a life sentence? So he opted to not rely on words at all. "May I hold you?"
"No," Shay said grimly, shaking her head. "No, it makes sense. How could they let us go after this? There's no way. Not after everything they've done so far. Putting us all back in reach of our resources? We'd go hunting them. We'd tell people. Maybe not the media, but other supernaturals, someone. It puts their whole operation in danger if powerful enough people start investigating."
She couldn't catch a full breath through the aching tightness in her chest. "This is a death sentence. The only question is how long before it happens." That was a grimmer thought for him as a vampire than it was for her. She had an expiration date - she wasn't making it past a hundred and fifty or so no matter what. The vampires, though... they were immortal.
There was no telling how long they might be in here.
The sense of loss was staggering, looming like a tsunami high above her head just moments away from swamping her and dragging her under. Her career, gone. Friends, hobbies, travel, gone. Her sister. There went any hope of reconciling, and it hurt to feel that last little spark die. Shay couldn't think about it now, wouldn't think about it. She needed her anger, not sorrow or despair.
She started to tell him no; she was too restless, had too much turmoil under her skin. She wouldn't be able to sink into him and be comforted the way she usually was in his arms. But a second later it occurred to her that it might not be for her - after all, he was facing the same news. Eternity in this hellhole, never to see his kids again. His family. Maybe this was something he needed too. So she tried to unclench her jaw, tried to hold still, and nodded silent permission.
It was all too easy to cross the small space between them to enfold her into his arms. While he had only meant to offer her comfort, Shay had not been wrong in her own internal assessment. It had not yet hit him that what might be decades for Shay and most of the other residents, he could have centuries. No doubt that realization would happen soon enough, once he began to process the situation in full.
Shay felt stiff against him, cluing Gable into the fact that he might have read the situation wrong. Squeezing her firmly, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stepped away to give her room to pace again if she so wished.
"I feel like I ought to apologize, though I do not know what it would be for, exactly. But I could not bear the thought that you would find out through some alternative means." He nodded to the computer. "You should not have to deal with whatever you might be feeling alone. You should never have to be alone."
Shay wanted to stay in his arms when he squeezed her - it so often felt like the world around them and the chaos in her brain went quiet when she did - but anxiety kept her mobile as soon as he let her go. She couldn't help the short bark of laughter when he spoke again.
"I'm used to being alone," she said, a tone in her voice that wasn't quite bitter but not quite matter-of-fact either. "But if this is true then it sounds like it's not going to be a problem. It's going to be all of us in this fucking tower until we die." Or some of them, anyway. If they kept messing with the weres or started messing with the vampires in the same way, more people were going to die. They'd already had too many close calls. She'd had too many close calls.
The longer she was here, the more likely she was to accidentally kill someone.
She could feel herself spiraling and did her best to shut it down, forcing in a deep breath and resisting the urge to punch the wall. "Oh Jesus fuck," she sighed on the exhale, closing her eyes and scrubbing both hands over her face. "Don't apologize," she said then. "I would've been pissed if you'd known this before and just left me to find out on my own." He'd made the right choice. Even if it was terrifying, her heart racing, it was better to know.
"We just have to figure out a way through the barrier," she added. "I'm not fucking dying in here."
The pronouncement was a positive sign, Gable decided. Anger could be a strong emotion rather than the defeatist attitude previously displayed. "You may be used to being alone beforehand, but," he took a step forward and crouched beside where she sat, "you are not alone. Not now. Not ever again."
They had begun this arrangement of theirs with the belief that there would be few strings attached, a mutually beneficial agreement. But as soon as they started the delicate spider's web had begun to bind them together. What was it they said, that a spider's silk was stronger than steel? And now all he could see was what bound them together. How blindly foolish he had been.
"Please understand me, Shay, When we find ourselves past that barrier, you will not be alone."
Shay felt a jolt of not-quite panic shoot up her spine at his words, her heart kicking a notch faster as she looked up at him. There was no fucking way he was saying what she thought he was saying, was there? He meant it like Ford and Yasiel had meant it, that they'd still be friends. Bound together by their shared experiences, by friendship. She was slowly coming to trust in that idea, that she wouldn't fuck things up and they wouldn't just fuck off to their happily ever after.
But Gable? She supposed she hadn't really thought about what they would look like post-Tower; he'd come from Europe, and she lived in California, and she didn't see either of them changing that outside of vacations maybe. And he was successful, and had his shit largely together, and had a whole family out there waiting for him. She wouldn't have thought he'd have much room for someone like her.
And she didn't want to think about how much she wished that he did.
"I'm not sure that I do," she said carefully, chest tight. "Explain, please."
Moving slowly, as if he was afraid of spooking a frightened animal, Gable reached out and placed a hand over Shay's. "When we entered into our… arrangement we had agreed that there were no expectations and indeed that is how I intended to continue to be. And yet I have found myself tied to you. Not out of any sort of obligation, but out of affection."
He paused then, waiting for Shay to make some sort of comment. To laugh or crack a joke. He was just now processing his feelings as he spoke. He needed to give Shay the space to do the same.
"You will not be alone for as long as I walk this earth I will walk beside you. For as long as you allow."
Shay didn't have a joke for him, and she wasn't laughing. She felt her expression shift into something like dismay, like regret, before closing off. Her knee was bouncing frenetically, until she had to stand up and pace again. The heel of her hand rubbed small circles over her heart in an unconscious move as she paced.
"You've got some fucking timing," she breathed. "'Hey babe, you're probably going to die in here and also...' what? You're tied to me? What does that even mean?"
She shook her head, making a negating gesture with one hand. "Doesn't matter. I'm not the kind of person you tie yourself to, Gable." It was the same thing she told herself all the time. So why did it feel so much worse to have to admit it to him? "If we try to make this more I'm just going to fuck it up. It’s what I do.”
Gable watched her stand. He watched her begin to pace. And he said nothing. He had caught the flickers of emotion on her face. It was something she did not want. He had overstepped. Again. All those things Nisha had said to him lifetimes before came rushing back. He cared too deeply. His attentions too daunting. Too overwhelming to bear day in and day out.
He could feel the rising stiffness of embarrassment creep along his spine. He should leave before he…
No. Had he not said he would be there? That she should not be alone? What would that make him if he left now?
Rising to his feet, he did not try to get in the way of her pacing, but remained firmly planted where he was. "Explain that, please."
"I mean, it feels pretty self-explanatory," Shay said, shooting him a faintly incredulous look. "I'm a fucking anchor, okay? It just won't work. You could do so much better." Even in the limited population of the tower, she knew there were people without the mountain of baggage she carried with her.
Even so, none of that was really an explanation, and truth be told it wasn't one she was sure she knew how to give. Or one she could give. It was a feeling, bone-deep, that had followed her around ever since she'd realized she was drowning after her parents died. She'd given up and let herself ruin everything good she'd had left, and it still tainted her even after clawing her way back up.
Her hand was pressed to her heart again, unthinking, moving in small little circles as if massaging away a hurt. Yasiel had asked her once where her anxiety was; she'd always carried it in her heart. "You've got a family and a good job and all this other shit. I ruined mine. I'm not going to do that to yours."
It would be so much easier to lash out in anger, to impose his will until he could make her see reason. But that would cross a line that Gable had always tried to hold himself to. Not for those he cared for. For all of his uncertainty around emotions and his purpose, he knew that one fact to be true. That was not how one showed love.
"You do not know my family. Not yet, at least. I dare say they think you would be a marked improvement." Gable tried to keep the remark light, but he could not help the bit of self-deprecation. "I will always respect your boundaries, but you will respect mine as well. You do not get to decide who I should or should not care for. If you do not wish to alter our initial agreement, I will abide by those terms."
Catching his bottom lip between his teeth, Gable knew that he should remain where he was, but he could not help himself. The distance between them could not have been more than three strides, but it felt like a chasm. Grasping Shay lightly by the shoulders, he waited until she met his gaze. "You define yourself as an anchor. You think of it as something that will drag a person underneath the water's surface. But there are other purposes. Other meanings. Anchors support. They prevent others from going adrift. You are more than just a mistake made in the depths of grief."
Shay opened her mouth to tell him it was better if they kept it casual, but before she could get the words out he was there in front of her, cool hands on her shoulders, and it froze the words in her throat. His teeth were set in his lip, and she knew it betrayed strong emotion if she could see it on his face where he was usually so inscrutable.
In that moment, she knew she had the power to hurt him, and a little voice at the back of her head that constantly whispered all the ways she wasn't good enough urged her to do it. Cut it off now and spare him worse later.
She couldn't bring herself to do it.
Instead, she was going to hurt herself to try and make him see. "That's poetic," she said, regret in her voice despite trying to keep it unemotional. "I don't think that's me, though." She'd been keeping it to herself for so long that trying to get the words out took so much effort. "I'm an addict." She said it flatly, ripping off the bandaid she'd been trying so hard to keep on, and let the wound bleed in front of him. "That's why my sister won't talk to me. Our parents died and instead of handling shit, I left her with a guardian so I could go party my way across the country for five years. I don't think I'm keeping anyone from drifting if I couldn't even manage myself."
"Heroin?" All of the little hints and suspicions now became a clear picture in his mind. And that did not change his opinion. He shook his head, not out of disbelief or resignation or rejection, but out of empathy for the pain Shay must have experienced. Then and now. "You were a child. Who acted out of grief," Gable reiterated. "You are not that person now. You carry her with you, but you have lived and learned. I do not believe that you would not make those same choices now."
He had no idea if his words were having the effect he wanted them to have. But what else could he do but continue to repeat himself until she believed him? It was a small blessing that he no longer needed to breathe.
"I am sorry that your sister no longer wishes to speak to you. She may have her reasons, but she is missing out on a wonderful person I have come to care for."
Her head reared back and she stared at him, green eyes wary and surprised. "Why did you guess that?" It wasn't uncommon, but she hadn't actually said she'd done drugs. Just that she was an addict. It could have been anything from alcohol to cocaine to shrooms.
"Your flu. It was not the first time I have supported someone in withdrawal from an opiate." He had said nothing then, but maybe he should have. To let her believe that it made a difference.
Her chest was tight; she couldn't meet his gaze. Forcing a deep breath, she shrugged. "I did it once. Shit gets bad enough in here, who's to say I won't again? Even if I don't want to." They'd already given it to her twice. She'd dumped it twice, but if things got really bad? "Ten years clean. No, eleven now. Depending on whatever they drugged us with when we first got moved in here, I suppose. Maybe all that's trashed and I'm back at three months."
Shay shook her head. "It doesn't matter. The point was that you can do better. Someone that knows how to do all this... relationship stuff without being a giant pain in the ass. You deserve better."
Gable let go of Shay and took a step back, afraid that he might be moved to shake her until she saw reason. He would not touch her out of anger. "This is not about what I deserve. Or what you deserve. It is what we want." It was now his turn to pace about the room, trying to form the right argument to make her see reason. To understand what happened in the past did not have to dictate their future.
"What do you want, Shay?" he asked, finally. "Because despite what you may think of me and my past, I am not experienced when it comes to relationships. I know I have my faults. I am too intense and stuck in my ways. But I am willing to try. So I ask you again. What do you want?"
She stayed where he left her, watching him pace with a falcon's eyes. He was usually so still; she wasn't used to seeing him agitated like this. She bristled a little when he mentioned his faults, mouth opening as if to argue that, but she closed it again a second later when he asked his question.
What did she want? It wasn't a question she'd thought about in a long time, except for the part of her brain convinced she didn't deserve those things to immediately shoot them down. To convince herself that she didn't want them or that she couldn't have them.
Silence was the safest bet. He'd walk away and she'd cry about it and whenever they managed to break their way out of this shithole, he'd go home to the people who cared about him and not have to think about her or her baggage. But he'd already taken a big first step. Could she do less?
"I want you to keep turning my brain to mush and my bones to jello," she said quietly, anxiety lending the faintest tremor to her voice. She was terrified of how this would turn out. Of giving him the power to hurt her as badly as she was afraid he could. But then again, she supposed he'd had that power for a while now.
"I want to read you mystery novels while you play with my hair. Or tell you a stupid joke just to watch you roll your eyes at me. Or lay down in the dark together and talk about our days even if there's almost never anything new or exciting to talk about in this fucking cage." She passed a shaky hand over her face, trying to slow her breathing or her racing pulse. "I want to be the person you know you can lean on when you're tired or hurt because you do that for me. I want to be worth all of that." She swallowed past a lump in her throat. "I'm just really afraid that I'm not and you'll figure that out too late for it not to hurt. And I don’t get what you get out of it."
It took no time at all to cross the distance between them. Both figurative and literal. Arms wrapped around Shay's shoulders as Gable tucked her head underneath his chin. As their bodies fit together, he felt something settle within him. "All of this is easily done," he murmured in her ear. "It is something you deserve and I will tell you that as long as you need me to. And then several times more, just in case."
Her last statement gave Gable pause. Because while he knew he felt fulfilled, he had little reason to put it into conscious thought. "You are a bright, vibrant spot in a life that I had allowed to become small, dull, and lifeless." He brushed a curl out of Shay's face, tucking it behind her ear. "And when I feel like I cannot trust myself, I can trust the trust you put in me."
Gable could not decide if it were better to remain quiet as Shay's heartbeat returned to the rhythm he most associated with her or if it were better to talk. Even if it was about nothing at all. "I think I will need to find a new mystery series soon… But right now I am reading about the Dutchtulip mania of the seventeenth century."
This time when he held her, she was softer, pliant. Their bodies fit together in a way that was not just familiar, but comfortable. Safe. This time when he held her, her arms came up to circle his back, her eyes closed as she took a slow, deep breath. She kept it up as her heartbeat gradually slowed, a warmth in her chest as he spoke.
She still didn't quite understand how they'd come to this place, how this had crept up on her when she'd been so determined to keep things purely physical and yet here she was, pouring out her feelings like an absolute idiot. So when he moved on, her head shot up as she leaned back slightly to look at him without moving out of the circle of his arms.
"Wait a minute," she said. "I want to hear about the flower insanity, I promise, especially since you were probably there to see it. Gable, you said when we started this that you got off on being what people needed. But this can't just be about me and what I want - what do I want, I'll never be alone. What do you want? Because I'm not built to just take. I have to be able to give you what you want or what you need too." She knew enough to know that relationships were like scales - occasionally they might tip more to one side than the other, but ultimately they balanced. She needed to know that they balanced.
He gave her a quizzical look. All previous understanding and eloquence seemingly depleted. Had he not made it clear? No, clearly not. "First of all, the so-called tulip mania was easily two hundred years or so before my birth. Or estimated birth. Second, to answer your question I want to have those nights with you, recounting our days, just as you described. My existence was small beforehand, an endless tiresome grind. But with you I am challenged to try new things." His face turned a slightly pained expression. "I still do not like the spinning. Or the corned dogs. But I am glad that I tried them."
Gesturing towards the door, and all the people beyond, Gable shook his head. "Out there, they see the vampire first. Possibly only. " Though he was partially to blame for that, he conceded, but the point remained. "I want to be seen as more than that. I want to be the man first." He had no idea if this made any sense. While Shay had given very concrete examples, Gable could only grasp at vague concepts.
"I want to dance with you under the stars on a moonless night. I want to swing dance with you so you can fly in a whole different manner." He pulled her impossibly closer. "I am sure there is still yet more, but I did not prepare one ahead of time."
“I don't need prepared speeches,” Shay said, shaking her head and adjusting her arms so that they were looped around his shoulders. She started swaying, just a little, to music that wasn't playing. She was still anxious and angry and upset about the other news he'd brought, but underneath that was the strangest bubbly feeling. Like champagne bubbles tickling her nose, except in her chest, filtering into her blood and trickling down through her limbs. “God knows I'm not good at them either. I'm a fucking mess, so you should probably get your head checked for wanting me. I just need to hear how you're feeling. However it comes out.”
She grinned. “And it's corn dogs. I guess we're lucky we did the tilt-a-whirl before the gravitron. I suppose that means night skydiving is out too.” A vampire with motion sickness. Who'd have thought? Just another one of the things that made him who he was.
Stretching up just the little bit needed, she kissed him. “You've always been the man first to me,” she murmured against his lips, fingertips tracing little circles on the back of his neck just above the collar. “You always will be.”
Gable held Shay, his own body moving in time with hers. They danced to music only they could hear, that only their hearts could feel. ”I cannot say that sharing my feelings comes naturally." When could it be when no words were ever needed from the person he was closest to previously? It had made poor habits more entrenched. "But I will endeavor to change that behavior."
He let her kiss him as he supported her body, lifting her that extra two centimeters more. "There is room in my life to embrace a mess, though I wish you would not speak of yourself in that way." She deserved so much and to hear her say that she did not pained him. He would be happy to continue to show her all that she deserved again and again. That would not be a hardship.
"We are both new at this. Perhaps we both ought to allow ourselves some grace."
Shay eyed him, a little dubiously. She was, after all, just being honest. She was a mess, and the tower wasn't exactly the place to work on self-discovery. Or it was and she was just bad at it, which was more likely. But she kept her mouth shut because a little voice was yelling at her about letting herself be complimented and not pushing people away, and it sounded suspiciously like a certain cranky witch she knew.
"Maybe," she said instead. If she felt like he had a better handle on it, well, she'd keep that to herself too. She had no idea what she was doing. Fake it 'til you make it.
"I think you're better at it than you let on," she accused, eyeing him with mock-suspicion. "You were real slick the night of Yasiel's birthday party. 'Oh, let's tango' like it didn't give you an excuse to get your hands all over my thighs."
"That was a desire," Gable allowed, "to dance. My hands on your thighs was an unexpected and greatly enjoyed bonus. However, I am taking note of your distinction. Thank you for the clarification." Tilting his head down, Gable's lips pressed a series of closed-mouth kisses along the line of her neck. He lingered at Shay's pulse point, teeth scraping lightly over blood-warmed skin.
He should stop. There was not enough time between now and when Shay would have her clinic shift. "There is nothing more I would love more than to continue this or curl up in bed with you, I know there are other obligations." Pulling back with some regret, he adjusted the neckline of her sweater, smoothing it down. "We can always pick this up later."
Later, when this morning's revelations finally began to set in, both interpersonally and in their situation in the tower, they would need to talk more. Or maybe they would just sit in the dark, taking comfort in each others' presence. "I am happy with either option."
“Or we can let Yasiel handle the clinic on his own for a little bit,” Shay suggested, eyes half-hooded with pleasure from the scrape of his teeth. She wasn't really serious; she took responsibility for the work she signed up for, but it was a nice thought. Staying in and getting frisky with him was an infinitely nicer prospect than having to keep quiet about what she knew for six hours. Or should she tell him? It felt weird to keep that secret, but tomorrow was going to be their weird Christmas and she didn't want to ruin it for him or Ford. “Or we could go for a speed round.”
That wasn't Gable's style, either; she wasn't sure the man was capable of letting her stop at just one. But she couldn't forget the news and their friends, and she needed to know if she should keep quiet. So she sighed and relented, letting him put her clothing to rights and absently smoothing down his shirt. “Are you going to tell Ford and Yasiel too?” she asked then.
"That had been my original plan," Gable said, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. Their heart to heart had taken precedence. If he were forced to reveal it, he was sure that the two men would understand the delay. "Maritza informed me that she was going to put something up on the network."
He looked past Shay's shoulder to where the computer sat. "It is possible she already has." It would take the emotional burden off of him if she did. Telling Shay was hard enough. Gable did not look forward to having to share the news a second or third time. Already, he knew that each conversation hurting in its unique way. Even he had his limits on masochistic tendencies. "But if you should see Yasiel before I do, share whatever information you think is best. Hearing it from a person you care about is preferable to a cold computer screen."
Dropping a kiss on Shay's forehead, Gable finally stepped away. "I will be available after your clinic shift. We can pick up where we left off then."
"Christ, that's not a conversation I want to have at all," Shay said. Selfishly, she wondered if she should just let him find out via the network. It wasn't really the thing a good friend would do; she agreed that the news was probably better delivered from a person rather than a network post. The best she could do was head down for her shift and hope he hadn't read it yet.
Shaking her head, she chased him a moment longer when he stepped away, seeking one more kiss that was deep, long, and full of promise.
"I'm gonna hold you to that," she said as she stepped away, licking her lips. Sure, there was more they had to talk about, but after that? She was going to make sure both their brains turned off.