Re: coffee: sam & neil
"I just don't get the word," she admitted of content. "I think I'd go fucking nuts if I was just content. I want everything, yeah? I want perfect days every fucking day. I know it won't happen, and I know it'll fall short more often than not, but I still want to go for it. For those perfect fucking moments." And, ok, so there hadn't been many recently. There hadn't been many before that, either. Shit had been bad before he disappeared into Pirates; there was no point in bullshitting about that. "Happier's good," she finally admitted, though she had to think about it for a while. But maybe that was good enough for him. Maybe everyone didn't want to feel the exquisite happiness that felt like being perched on a razor's edge, yeah? She grinned a second later, when his brow furrowed. "Maybe we'll get kicked out, arrested, and end up on the Internet."
She listened to him talk about sitting in his car; she knew what that felt like. Well, what standing outside a dealer den felt like, which was the equivalent. "I don't think I buy into all the higher power stuff, but talking helps me. Talking always fucking helps me. But it's been quiet the past year for me. I still fucked up a few times, but I keep worrying shit's going to go insane and I won't be able to do it," she admitted. She didn't look away; she didn't even think about it. "What days?" she asked of when he'd almost gone into a bar. There was a point to it, yeah? Figuring out what his triggers were. Her therapist, she was big on fucking triggers. But she grinned when he offered to listen if she needed to talk or whatever. "Yeah? Not too awkward?" In the end, the steps were the same everywhere. Her fucking therapist even made her go to some sex addict meeting once.
He shifted beneath her toes, and she laughed and rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" But there wasn't any anger there; she wasn't pissed. She was affectionate and tactile, and it didn't mean anything, but yeah, distance was fine. She tugged her bare feet up onto the table, arms around her knees and her dress a fall of woolen pink to her toes. "Happy, not content, yeah?" She asked of Meredith, and she grinned. "Ok. What's the worst that could happen? Someone punches someone or pulls someone's hair? And it might be good or whatever. You tell Meredith, and I'll tell Cris? Next weekend, maybe, if they don't lose it at the suggestion?" She poked his chest with her toes. "And calm the fuck down, yeah? I'm not going to jump you, baby."