Chapter Text
Christine has a miserable night’s sleep, punctuated with equally miserable dreams. In one of them, the fight never happened. In another, he never comes home. That one makes her get out of bed, around four in the morning, just long enough to crack her bedroom door and see his jacket hanging on its peg. For a moment, relief overtakes the sadness and frustration simmering in her chest.
She dozes fitfully for the rest of the night. She's spiraling. She's convinced she’s ruined their friendship. She keeps fixating on the idea of Felix leaving, since he said that he expected her to kick him out. The thought of it turns her stomach.
She hears Felix leave the apartment before her alarm goes off, the door clicking shut without any other noise to indicate he was even up. When she ventures out of her room she finds the coffee machine is still off. A folded blanket on the couch is the only indication he was even there last night.
Christine debates calling in sick but ultimately decides the distraction of work might help. The train ride downtown provides more time to stew on the mess she’s made. The city slides past the train windows, today’s weather a match for her mood: cold, rainy, gray. Listless. Lifeless.
Christine gets to her desk, puts on her work shoes, plugs in her laptop. It immediately chimes with a notification. She was forwarded a meeting, apparently while she was on the train, and it started five minutes ago, in a conference room about as far from her desk as possible. Shit. And the person forwarding it was the department head, with her manager also on the invite. Double shit. She grabs her laptop and notebook and hurries, but even then she's ten minutes late.
“Ah, Christine,” her manager says as she slides into the room. Every head turns to her.
“Sorry!” she says, taking the last seat at the table. “Train was running late.”
“Well, you’re just in time,” her manager says. “Are you ready to present?”
“I’m sorry, I must have missed that?” she says, forcing a smile onto her face. Present? What the fuck are you talking about?
“Oh, it was in the email this morning. The forecasts for Project Slate. We’ll give you a second to pull it up.”
And like that, she’s thrust into an impromptu presentation, using unfinished data and projections she mostly hasn't finished, feeling like she’s just stepped into quicksand. She muddles through, putting on her best professional voice and answering questions where she can, and thinks she’s home free when–
“Christine can get those figures to you today,” her boss says, without even looking at her. She successfully hides her irritation but that's a huge ask for her to turn around same-day. It would usually be multiple days of work, if not a week.
She gets back to her desk, and before she starts working on the heap of bullshit that just landed on her plate, she glances at her phone. There’s a text from Nicky.
Felix is acting weird. Did something happen?
Christine doesn’t even know where she’d begin. She leaves Nicky on read, and feels a little guilty about it.
It's fine. Today isn’t totally unsalvageable. She still has lunch to look forward to. There's a sandwich place nearby where she goes when she's having a crappy day, to get a–
At 11:45am, she’s forwarded another meeting. For noon. For an hour. So much for lunch.
The meeting could have been an email but takes the entire hour anyway. Afterwards, she gets a granola bar from the break room vending machine, and eats it while trying to attack the project.
At least she has Cathy to vent to tonight. A couple of drinks and some girl talk will set things right. Maybe this will even be funny by then, in a “hey, can you believe how unbelievably shitty life can be sometimes?” kind of way.
It’s just after two, when she’s in the middle of typing out a quick text to Cathy (Looking forward to tonight…long story short, but I need it!) when the three typing dots pop up. Catherine’s text follows a moment later: I'm so so sorry but I have to cancel. I just got called about showing an office space up in Rockford and the usual guy who could do it is out sick.
Christine’s heart sinks but she types back: It’s okay. Rain check?
Yes please! And sorry again. Cathy follows it up with two frowny emotes.
Hope your showing goes well.
She puts her face down on her desk. So much for girl talk. Now all she has to look forward to is getting home, a thought that feels like a pit in her stomach.
She endures another meeting that could have been an email, and when she gets out, she decides she’ll text Felix. She’d mentioned her evening plans, so he wouldn’t expect her to be home; she figures at least he deserves a heads-up. She decides to keep it short and to the point.
Change of plans, Catherine had to cancel. Probably will be home late though.
After a moment she types out and sends a second, more impulsive message.
I’m having a really shitty day.
She doesn’t know what she hopes to get from that second text. Pity? Sympathy? Maybe just acknowledgement would be enough.
After about five minutes her phone buzzes. It’s Felix. Huh. He actually wrote back. Maybe he has some sort of condolence to offer after all.
When she taps into her text messages, she doesn’t see any reply. Just a reaction. The thumbs up emoji.
…
Did he. Just hit her. With the fucking. Thumbs up emoji. Not a “Sorry to hear that” or a “what happened” or even a frowny face. The thumbs up emoji.
“Fuck you,” she mutters. She’s royally pissed off by this. It hurts, hurts more than nothing would have hurt.
Fueled by rage, she powers through the rest of her afternoon, pulling together spreadsheets while muttering darkly under her breath. The clock is just about to hit six when she finishes typing up the email with the completed presentation, with more force than she needs to. The enter key on her keyboard makes a crunching sound when she mashes send. She yanks out the power cord of her laptop, shoves it in the laptop bag, and stuffs her feet into her sneakers.
The weather has gotten colder and rainier since this morning. She badges out of the building and unfurls her umbrella, steeling herself for the prospect of dealing with whatever awaits her at the apartment. Maybe Felix will be there, maybe he won’t. Maybe they’ll fight. Whatever. Fine. At least she can fight with him while wearing comfy pants.
When she gets to the train station there's a group of people clustered around the stairs to the platform. It’s obvious why. There's a sheet of water coming out of a broken pipe, above the stairs and halfway up them. The water is cascading down the steps and pooling at the bottom.
“Is there another staircase?” she asks one of the other commuters milling around. The lady shrugs.
“I think this is it.”
Christine watches the water for a minute, to see if it slackens off at all. It doesn’t. Anger still burning hot inside her, she wields her umbrella like a war banner and makes a break for it.
It doesn’t go great.
The umbrella gives out almost instantly under the torrent, and Christine is drenched in the time it takes her to scamper through the spray. She staggers to the top of the stairs, trying not to slip, and throws down the now destroyed umbrella in a snit. The train is just pulling into the station, so at least she doesn’t have to wait long. Once she’s aboard, she tries to dry off, but all she has in her backpack is a half-sodden packet of tissues. Her wet clothes cling to her, and the two block walk from the station to her apartment is sensory hell. By the time she gets inside she’s shivering.
She checks the mailbox. There's no mail. That means Felix is home. She sighs and starts making her way up the stairs, shoes squelching with every step.
As she fumbles with her keys Christine lowers her head and sets her shoulders. She's ready for a fight. This day has already been so immensely shitty. What's a little more shittiness? May as well get it out of the way, cry herself to sleep, and start fresh tomorrow.
She opens the door to find Felix putting a casserole dish in the oven. He's wearing an apron, a stupid one he found at a thrift store that reads STAY THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY in block letters. There's music playing on her little Bluetooth speaker that sits on the counter, some alt rock band from twelve years ago. He smiles to himself, closes the oven door, and turns to her.
His face falls instantly when he sees her. "Holy shit, what happened to you?"
She realizes how she must look, grits her teeth, kicks her sodden shoes off. "Burst pipe on the L platform stairs."
Felix steps closer but she holds up a hand and he freezes almost midstep. "Don't." She says. "Just...just don't, okay?" She has a complex relationship with physical touch at the best of times; between how overloaded she is right now and how mixed up she feels about Felix, she'd probably elbow him in the balls if he got in her space. He’s six feet away and he’s still too close for her mood.
He holds his hands up. "Okay. You look like you're freezing."
"Yeah," she says bitterly. "I am." She sighs. "I'm going to take a shower. After that..." She meets his eyes, which are wide, concerned. She can't deal with this right now. "Whatever."
She doesn't wait to see what he says. She heads down the hall to her bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake.
The hot shower reduces her misery, but she puts off getting out of the warm spray of water because she knows the minute she's back out there, things will blow up. Or simmer. She doesn't know which is worse at this point. She can hear Felix moving around the apartment and wishes she was anywhere else right now.
She finally shuts the water off, steps out, dries off. She wraps a towel around herself and quickly steps from the bathroom into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She's confident that Felix would never creep on her, but she heard his footsteps go past the bathroom door a few minutes ago. Wait...
There's a set of pajamas laid out on the bed. What the heck?
She didn't pick anything out before she got into the shower. She steps forward to see. Flannel pants. Soft t-shirt. One of Felix's hoodies, the one she's been stealing regularly for months. All neatly folded in a stack. When she runs her fingers over the clothes, she realizes they're warm.
Did he put her pajamas in the dryer for her?
Something clenches in her chest and she's glad Felix isn't there because in a moment she is full-on ugly crying, even as she's pulling the pajamas on. How dare he! How dare he do something so sweet and thoughtful when he's been such an ass, and she needed something like this, and she doesn't know what she's feeling and that just makes her cry harder.
After a few minutes she wipes her eyes on her towel, blows her nose in a tissue and checks herself in the mirror. Her eyes are red. She feels drained. Her anger has burned down to embers and ash. She tugs the ragged cuffs of the hoodie down over her wrists and tries to ready herself for whatever she finds in the living room.
The apartment smells amazing, which is par for the course when Felix is cooking, but she can't quite figure out what he's making by smell alone. She pads to the kitchen in bare feet and finds him putting a saucepan on the drying rack and wiping his hands.
"Feeling warmer?" he asks. His eyes flick over her, and his expression is...strained. Nervous?
"Yeah," Christine says hoarsely, hovering by the edge of the linoleum. She can see he's cleaned up the water she dripped everywhere.
"Good, because you looked like one of those sad cat photos from the calendar Nicky has at the shop." He turns back to the stovetop and pulls on a pair of oven mitts. He carefully extracts the casserole dish, which is full of some sort of bubbling pasta. Christine doesn't cross the threshold to the kitchen, but her stomach rumbles audibly. If Felix hears it, he doesn't say anything.
"That...that smells really good." Christine says.
"Mac and cheese," Felix says. “Homemade.” His mouth goes up at one corner.
"You made mac and cheese from scratch?" she asks, impressed in spite of herself.
"Uh, yeah. Don't get me wrong, sometimes you just want the boxed stuff, but this is gonna blow your mind. I'm almost done, why don't you pick something to watch and I'll bring you a bowl in a minute?"
An offer to just have a normal evening together, having dinner and watching shows on the couch. Well, that's a peace offering, or something like it. "...all right."
He makes two trips, bringing a glass of water for each of them, followed by their bowls of pasta, which are steaming gently and look just as good as they smell.
He puts her bowl in front of her, along with a fork, and then settles on the far end of the couch, giving her a wide berth. He's very deliberately not watching her to see her reaction. To the food, or overall? She's not sure.
She blows on the first forkful, then bites in. White cheddar, pepper, bacon, breadcrumbs. Another cheese too, sharp and salty...Parmesan, she guesses? Felix had teased her for having a bottle of grated Parmesan cheese on her condiment shelf, pulling a disgusted face at the idea that it deserved to share the name with the real thing. Maybe he had a point. This is heavenly.
She forgets she's supposed to be mad at him for like, one second. Maybe two. "What gave you the idea to make mac and cheese?" she asks around the next mouthful.
"Aside from your continuing education that there's a reason people don't live off frozen meals and packaged crap?" he says smugly. Then, in a lower voice: "It's… what I would always make for myself when I had a shitty day and needed cheering up. But you sounded like you needed something better than boxed macaroni.”
Christine feels the lump come back to her throat and chews for another moment before swallowing both the feeling and the macaroni. "Thanks," she whispers. "It's, uh...really good."
He smiles, genuine and self-satisfied. "Good. Because I made enough that there's gonna be leftovers. Not worth it to make less of it."
They sit in silence for a moment before Felix asks, "Are you gonna hit play or do we just sit here staring at our bowls of mac and cheese until it's time to go to bed?"
"Oh, right," she says, and grabs the remote. The episode of Bake Off begins.
They don't talk for the next half hour, except when she finishes her bowl and Felix, unprompted, asks: "Seconds?" She nods, still hungry after her non-lunch, and he fetches each of them another portion. When the episode is over, he goes to the kitchen and she can hear him doing cleanup while she quickly checks in with Catherine by text. It seems like the showing went well. She keeps trying to apologize for canceling.
"I put some in a container for you to take for lunch tomorrow," Felix says, coming back and flopping down on his end of the couch again. Then, after a pause: "Do you want to talk about it?"
"...do I want to talk about my lunch tomorrow?" Christine asks, baffled.
Felix gives her a “you've gotta be kidding me” look and says, with surprising patience, "About your day? Your shitty day at work?"
That brings her up short. "Oh. Why would you care about that?" Christine asks. It comes out sounding a little more accusatory than she intends.
Felix doesn't seem bothered. "I dunno, Pompom. Maybe because when you showed up back here looking all pathetic I figured at least there was a good story behind it." The words are vintage Jax, but there's no venom behind them. He doesn't meet her eyes, though.
“My boss dumped a huge project on me,” she says. “First thing in the morning. And in the process he made me look like I was either ignorant or lazy. So that was a great start to the day. Then I had a meeting scheduled over lunch, so I basically didn’t have lunch. I spent all afternoon getting nagged about this stupid presentation I didn’t sign up for…and I was looking forward to seeing Cathy, but she had to cancel.” She doesn’t tell him the reason why she was looking forward to seeing Catherine so much. That won’t lead anywhere good.
“Is she okay?” Felix asks.
That catches her off guard. Felix and Catherine are still not particularly friendly. He normally never asks about her. “O-oh, yeah? She’s fine. She just had an office showing out in Rockford.”
“Tch. Who rents office space in Rockford?” He glances at her. “Sorry, go on.”
“Uh, so…coming back…well, you saw what happened. I got drenched. My umbrella didn’t make it.” She sighs. “And wet fabric is like…my least favorite sensation in the world. So yeah. In summary: Today sucked.”
“Sorry your day was shit,” Felix says, picking at a piece of fuzz on the arm of the couch. “I hope it’s sucked a little less since you got back.”
“It helped,” she admits, looking down at where her arms disappear into the oversized front pocket of Felix’s stolen hoodie.
She hasn’t talked at all about one of the biggest reasons today sucked, which is the aftermath of their fight. It’s eating at her not to be able to talk to him about it but she knows, she just knows that the second she brings it up he’ll shut down. And yet…
He’s watching her closely. He’s been surprisingly considerate since she got home, so there’s something there, but she can’t figure out what it is, how to approach it. Is he trying to be nicer? Maybe. She doesn’t know how she feels about that. Part of her is still in fight mode.
She chooses the path of least resistance, for now. "More Bake Off?" She asks, and Felix relaxes. He nods assent and gets comfortable again.
After three episodes, she looks over and realizes Felix is out like a light on his end of the couch. This surprises her. He never falls asleep first (and he regularly teases her for doing so). Well, actually, that's not true. She knows he did the first night they were holding each other in bed. She'd stroked his hair and that had knocked him out.
She can see dark circles under his eyes. She wonders if he's been sleeping worse, too.
He looks softer in sleep, all his rough edges smoothed out. His face, so quick to contort into a smug grin or grimace, is slack. He looks so young. She's never seen a picture of him as a kid; he doesn't have any. She wonders what it would have been like to know him, before.
You can't go through something like the Circus without being changed in some way.
What must it be like to be Felix? You’re stuck in a place where you can never relax, never let your guard down. When you do, you get hurt, and you hurt others in turn. Until you're ground down, down to the breaking point. And then one day…you’re out. Back to a life that wasn’t exactly sunshine and roses. Trading one struggle for another.
Does he even know what it's like to not have to fight all the time? Wouldn't it be better to just rest for a little while? Christine has always thought of herself as someone who can fight when necessary. Jax, the man she knew inside the Circus, fought with everything and everyone, as casually as breathing.
And that’s what Christine expected when she got home tonight. She expected Jax, all rough edges and insincere smiles. But what she found was warm pajamas and a homemade dinner. Because Felix wanted to help. Because he knew she’d had a bad day.
He must have known, she thinks. He must have known that he was part of the reason her day was hard.
Felix can be an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid, even when he’s out of his emotional depth. It would have been easy for him to fuck off somewhere else for the evening and let her stew. It would have been easy for him to keep their argument stoked until it blazed like a fire. It would have been easy for Felix to be Jax. And he chose a different path. A harder one.
Her chest hurts as she looks at him. She wants to comfort him and be comforted. She thinks about how soft his hair was. She wants to touch it again. Wants to reduce him to that state of blissed out bonelessness. "I hate being like this," he had whispered. For a little while, they’d been able to find solace in each other.
She sighs. She thought she was being careful. That no one was going to get hurt. She made assumptions, and it’s gnawing at her that both of them wound up getting hurt anyway.
She doesn't want a life without Felix. Who had been so cautious and respectful around her parents. Who had taken care of her in November when she had the flu without hesitation. Who had worked to mend things with Nicky and Emily, and had even reached something approximating friendship with Catherine. She wants him here. But it has to be his choice to stay.
Felix’s breathing hitches and he stirs awake, eyes opening and locking on Christine’s. "Watching me while I sleep?" He says, a little gravelly. "Creep."
“Just…seeing if you were gonna drool on yourself,” she tries to joke.
“Gross. I do not drool in my sleep.”
That definitely is not the case, but she worries saying so would just provoke another fight. She wants so badly to talk to him, find out what he’s thinking and feeling, but it seems that would provoke a fight response, too. So what other options does she have? Leave and let him be? It would be easy to let this evening pass, and settle back into their emotional cold war of the last few days. She almost does it.
Christine thinks of warm pajamas, and mac and cheese, and olive branches. Jax was never good at talking about his feelings. But Felix...well, he’s no better at talking about feelings, but his actions were not the actions of someone who doesn't give a fuck. She decides, all right. Maybe there's another way.
Felix hates being embarrassed. Hates and fears it. And despises being questioned about it when he feels like he's backed into a corner. Well…maybe she can work with that.
When they did karaoke together, she showed she was willing to be silly along with him. Make a fool of herself. Let Felix know it’s all right to let the walls come down a little bit. She has an idea of how she can do that now. If it works, maybe he’ll be willing to have a tough conversation with her.
And hey, if it doesn’t work, at least it will be funny.
Christine pulls her legs under her, clears her throat, and says: "You know, one time I gave myself a concussion during sex."
Felix's eyes go huge. "What?!" Christine can't help but smile at his expression. It's almost the same as the one he made during The Incident when she told him she was close. It's clear she has his attention now, if only because he’s completely bewildered. “I’m sorry, did I get hit on the head while I was asleep or something?”
“Do you wanna hear the story?” she asks. He hesitates, then nods, still confused. "I was fooling around with my first serious boyfriend in college. He was in one of those double rooms with a bunk bed. I thought I'd be sexy and ride him, but once I got my pants off I straightened up too fast and I smacked the back of my head on the frame of the upper bunk. I knocked myself out cold."
"This poor guy," Christine says, struggling not to laugh at the memory and the expression Felix is making, "went from so psyched that he was gonna get laid to absolutely convinced I was dead on the floor of his dorm room. And of course when we get to the ER the first thing they ask me is, are you pregnant. I had to be like, no, I didn't even get the chance to get him inside me!"
Felix lets out a startled bark of a laugh. It feels good to make him laugh.
"At least I had on my nice underwear for the nurses."
"Why are you telling me this?" Felix asks with a smile, still slightly strained because he is completely baffled by her conversational tactic. Perfect. She's got him right where she wants him.
She shuffles forward on the couch, until her knees are touching his leg. His eyes flick down when she makes contact but he doesn't flinch or pull away. "Another time, I was in the middle of hooking up with this girl and the fire alarm went off. Like for the entire building. And then smoke - actual smoke - starts pouring in under the door. We had to go out the fire escape and I threw on the first thing I could find to cover myself which was her gym shorts and a poncho."
He's grinning now, a shade more earnest. "That's pretty embarrassing."
"It gets worse. So we're standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the fire department, and guess who lives in the same building? My boss's boss. This scary as hell British lady. And of course she's perfectly put together, looking like she just came from a business meeting.”
“She spots me through the crowd, standing next to my hookup, who's in a parka and Crocs, and I can tell it takes her a second to realize who I am. And that's when I realize she's standing next to some dude who's wearing a bathrobe and a dog collar. With a bone-shaped nametag and everything. And we have this mutual moment of each knowing that the other person knows what we were up to when the fire alarms went off.”
“So after like fifteen minutes the fire department gave the all clear and they left together. And we never said a word about it to each other, but she also never made eye contact with me the whole rest of the time I worked there."
“Wow,” is all Felix can say.
Christine holds up a finger. “But! She had to do my performance review like a month later, and I got the maximum raise for my pay grade. And I definitely didn't deserve that based on my performance.”
“Oh my god, did she think you were gonna blackmail her?” He seems delighted by the possibility.
She smirks. “I like to think she rewarded my discretion.”
“That, or she liked what she saw.” Felix grins. Well, more leers. “Is this why you don’t own any ponchos?”
Christine does laugh at that one.
Felix still looks confused about why she’s telling him these stories at all. She takes a deep breath and prays he’s willing to listen just a little bit more.
"Fe, I know you don't want to talk about what happened. I get it. And I'm not gonna push you on that. But I have a few things I want to tell you. You can take them or leave them, okay? And if you really want me to stop talking, I'll stop. But I think you should hear me out, because I've just given you some really great blackmail material and...and I'm okay being embarrassed around you. I trust you, Felix."
Felix's eyes narrow but he doesn't say no. It looks like he's considering it. After a long moment, his expression relaxes and he nods. Christine takes another breath.
"There's this book, right? About how people communicate with different love languages." Felix rolls his eyes as soon as the words are out of her mouth.
"Oh my god, no. No, no, no. This is so hokey. I can't believe you're going to ask me about that-"
"It's bullshit," Christine interrupts, waving her hands. "It was written by some Baptist pastor. It's not scientific. It's basically astrology for relationships."
Felix’s mouth works silently for a second before he rallies and says: "As a Pisces sun, Cancer moon, I'll have you know that astrology is completely real and you should feel ashamed for your harsh words."
Christine laughs. "The point," she says, "is that people really do show affection in multiple ways. It seems obvious, right? But it's something you've got to learn about a person. And living with you, I've noticed a lot about you. Like I've noticed that you run your mouth all the fucking time."
“Which most people consider charming-”
She cuts him off. "I think you do it because you can hide behind it. People pay attention to what you're saying, and what you're saying is mostly crap. You'll say anything for a reaction. But there's more to people than what they say."
He slaps his knees and begins to stand. "Okay, well, thanks for the armchair psychology session. Now if you don't mind, I need to brush my teeth before-"
“I'm not done,” she says. “Please?” After a moment he settles back down on the couch.
“Felix,” she says, sighing, “You drive me fucking nuts sometimes. But my life has been better with you in it and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.”
His forced smile dissolves, leaving him looking just as confused as he was a minute ago, but watching her with rapt attention.
“Sometimes I feel frustrated because I know how hard you’re working to become the person you want to be,” she says, “and I know progress isn’t linear. Sometimes what you say makes me upset. But what you do…you can be so sweet and so considerate. It's a little hard sometimes for me to hold both parts of you in my head.”
He looks like he wants to speak, but when he sees her expression, raw and real, he holds his tongue. “You make me feel ways I haven’t felt like…ever,” she says. "When I'm kissing you it feels like everything else falls away. When you hold me in bed, I feel so, so happy. I don’t want you to leave.”
“After we fought the other night I felt…hollow. You said some stuff that really hurt me, Fe. And when I came back today I expected…god, I dunno. A lot of screaming.” She closes her eyes. “That’s what I'm used to in situations like this. And tonight wasn’t that and I’m still trying to figure out why.”
“But this is what I think: you made me dinner. You offered to listen to me. You…made sure I felt warm again.” She plucks at the sleeve of his hoodie on her wrist. Her throat feels tight with emotion.“You didn’t have to do any of that, Felix. I know you didn’t have to. Most people wouldn’t. You could have not been here after I texted I’d be home late, or just done nothing at all.”
He nods, once. It gives her the strength to say what she wants to say next.
“You asked me the other day what this thing between us was supposed to mean.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t intend for it to mean anything. It was just careless fun.” She can’t miss the way his expression falls. “But Fe…I realized somewhere along the way that I wanted it to mean something more.”
"I want you," she tells him. “I want you here with me, for as long as you want that too. I want to be something with you. More than friends. More than whatever we are now. I don’t know what that something is. But…I’d really like to know if you want me too.”
His eyes are huge. It's the one thing the Circus got right about him, how big and expressive those eyes are. Right now they're looking at her with a degree of surprise she hasn’t seen since she asked him to live with her. She can tell that somewhere behind those big, hazel eyes his brain is working furiously, so she gives him the time he needs. It feels like half an eternity before he says anything, although in reality it’s probably not even five seconds. “You…want me? Even after everything?”
“...yes?” she says.
It takes him three tries to ask: “Why?”
“...wh…Felix, I just said why.”
“Christine…I’m basically the worst.” His voice is hoarse with disbelief.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” she says, trying to get a smile out of him. He shakes his head.
“I’ve been awful to you. Like, I’m a colossal fuck-up, and not just because of that shit I said. I’ve been mooching off you, living on your couch. I’ve been taking advantage of you physically, too, and–”
“Hang on,” Christine cuts across him. “You think you've been taking advantage of me physically?”
“Well…yeah. You've already given me so much and it's just one more thing I've been taking from you…”
“You dumbass!” She smacks his chest with the back of her hand. “What the fuck are you even talking about? How could you think that and then say that shit about me kicking you out?”
“Yeah, that…that was over the line,” Felix says, eyes downcast.
“I’ve been beating myself up about that all day,” she says. Another thought races through her mind and interrupts her again. “Wait, hang the fuck on, I’m the one who always initiates! And you got me off twice before I even touched you that way!”
He cringes. “When you put it like that…” he mumbles.
She gives him another shove in the shoulder, more gentle. “God, you’re lucky you’re cute, because sometimes you can be a real doofus. How did you even reach that conclusion?”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, then immediately uncrosses them, clearly uncomfortable. “I had a lot of time to stew yesterday after our fight. I, uh…regretted leaving basically the minute I closed the door. By the time I got back…” He waves his hand around by his temple. “I wasn’t in a great headspace.”
She chews her lip. “I know I said I wasn't going to ask you any questions, Felix, but this one is really important, and we should have done it earlier. Did I overstep and make you do anything you didn't want to do?”
“No! No, nothing like that. I…I liked it, Chris. Everything we did.” He scratches at his cheek, which has a little color to it.
Thank goodness. She slumps against the couch in relief. He can’t quite meet her eye, but it’s because he looks downright shy about admitting that he actually enjoyed himself. He clears his throat. “Uh, did…did you like…?”
“I liked it too,” she admits. “And you didn't take advantage of me. Ever, okay? We were two adults, enjoying each others’ company.”
“I think we were enjoying a bit more than that,” Felix mutters, his cheeks still flushed.
“You dork,” she says. She puts her hand out on his knee, palm up, and he doesn’t hesitate to take it, interlacing their fingers. She feels much better almost immediately, more grounded. She hears Felix sigh too.
“When I got to work today Nicky could tell something had happened,” Felix admits. “Between us.”
“You mean that they know?” Christine isn’t upset by the idea of Nicky (or any of their friends) finding out that she’s been fooling around with Felix, but she worries about how Felix would feel about it.
“Know? Nah. I think they suspect, but they haven’t asked and I wouldn’t have told them. Why do you think I didn’t want any hickeys? I thought if I showed up to the shop sporting one of those it would be a dead giveaway.”
“I wasn’t aware I had a reputation for biting,” Christine says drily.
“Uh, excuse me? One time you sunk your sharp-ass gremlin teeth into my leg!”
“I do not have gremlin teeth!” she objects.
“Anyone who’s seen the way you eat chips would agree with me,” Felix says. “Anyway, they, uh…put some pieces together. I guess they texted you and when you didn't respond, they figured out we’d had a fight. And they chewed me out a bit. Told me I looked guilty as hell about something and that I couldn’t waste time beating myself up if I wanted to mend things.”
“...and that worked?”
Felix glares at her, not seriously. “Oh, screw you. You don’t have a monopoly on pep talks, you know.” She giggles and his expression softens again. “Compared to you, Nicky is pretty tough love, but they had a point. I was definitely too wrapped up in my own head about everything. So when you said you were having a shitty day I figured, even if I’m not great at…talking about this kind of stuff, I could still do something for you. To help. Just a little.”
“It helped,” she tells him. She squeezes his hand twice. Thank you.
He squeezes back twice. You’re welcome.
She decides to risk asking another question. “So why did you never kiss me after the first time, on New Year’s?”
“I did kiss you after the first time,” he says sullenly.
“I mean why didn’t you initiate, dumbass?”
He shrugs. “Guess I used up all my courage on the first one.”
He says that like it’s a joke, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. Shit, is he actually telling the truth?
“Am I really that intimidating?” she asks gently, giving his hand another squeeze.
“Yes!” He says, and his voice nearly cracks. “Christine, the thought of fumbling you is intimidating as hell. God, where do I fucking start? You're too good for me. Way, way too good for me. Like when you found out I didn't have a place to go you just…gave me one.”
“I couldn't just leave you, Felix.”
“That's not something most people would do. And trust me, I know. I, uh…well. I know, okay?” She doesn't know all the details about Felix's life before he entered the Circus but she knows they're not pretty.
“You don't have to tell me if you're not ready.” He swallows and nods, and presses on.
“You gave me a place to sleep, you put clothes on my back, you fed me…if that was all you had done for me I don't think I could ever repay you, Chrissy. But that's just the start.”
“In the Circus, when you showed up, you had this…energy. You weren’t willing to accept the status quo. And you care about people, even when they don’t deserve it. Even when I don’t deserve it.” He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and says, softly, “And you make the people around you feel safe. I can’t tell you the last time I had someone like that in my life.”
Oh.
“So what do you want me to tell you? That I think you're gorgeous? Because I do. God, you're stunning. It's been so fucking hard not to get caught staring at you, Chris. That’s part of why I liked kissing you so much. I had permission to be that close, to look that much. The way you smile at me…I don't know what I ever did to deserve someone looking at me like that. And that look you give me when I'm teasing you and you're a little mad but you also think it's kind of funny…” He chuckles. “It makes me want to be kind of a shit, to be honest.”
His eyes are still closed as he continues, the words starting to come faster now.
“Every time I hug you I try to memorize how it feels because I worry it might be the last chance I get. And when you fell asleep on me I was afraid to breathe too deep because I wanted it to last forever. And now every time I taste watermelon flavor I get–”
His eyes snap open as his confession crashes to a halt, suddenly aware of what he came close to saying. His cheeks are a little flushed. Christine reaches up and presses a hand to his face. His eyes close again halfway as he leans into her touch.
“I'm trying, Pompom. I swear I'm trying. But I know it's not enough. You made me feel safe and I just…threw it in your face.”
“Felix,” she says, thumb stroking his cheekbone, “you are enough just the way you are.”
Something breaks inside Felix, and he lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. He pulls her closer, into a hug that feels like everything to her.
“How can you say that?” He asks, between sobs.
She holds him until he’s able to pull himself together, and she uses a spare tissue she’d stuffed into the pocket of her hoodie to wipe his cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t believe it yet,” she tells him. “I can believe it enough for the both of us for now.”
“I’m sorry for being such a pain in your ass, Christine,” Felix says. “For the things I said to you…for the way I made you feel.”
“I forgive you.”
“I don't understand why.”
“Even so,” she says.
“So where does that leave us?” Felix asks.
She takes a deep breath. She feels like they're on the cusp of something big, something scary. "I've told you what I want, Felix. But what do you want?"
He can’t look away from her now. “You,” he whispers.
“Then you can have me,” she says, simply. She puts her hands on his chest and presses him back into the couch, and climbs onto his lap, taking care to settle herself closer to his knees. He seems to disagree with that choice, because he wraps an arm around her and pulls her flush against him, and then an instant later his lips are on hers, and she’s in heaven.
He's more assertive this time, confidence borne of their mutual confession, and he seems almost starving for her touch. But other than that, he's still the same Felix. Her Felix. She slides her hand up the back of his neck and runs her nails against his scalp and he moans a yes against her lips.
They ride the waves of each other's energy, one minute gentle and tender, the next passionate and intense. One of his hands slides down to cup her bottom, giving it a gentle squeeze, and she breaks the kiss to laugh. It took him so long. She kisses him again and sucks on his bottom lip, and he gives her ass a proper, firmer squeeze.
She glances down and sees that Felix is definitely enjoying himself. “Wow, you weren't kidding about the lip balm thing,” she says. She shifts slightly and even if she were trying to avoid it, they're so close that there's no way she can move without rubbing against him.
“God, it’s humiliating how easy it is for you to get me like this,” he groans.
“I think you’d better start getting used to it,” she tells him. “If I have my way, we’re gonna be doing this a lot more.”
He looks excited by that idea. “Still. Embarrassing.”
She giggles and loves how wicked it feels to push his buttons like this. “It doesn’t feel to me like you have anything to be embarrassed about.”
“Oh my god that is such a corny line.”
She grinds against him, making it obvious that this time it's intentional, and his hips twitch in reaction. “It seems like it’s working pret-ty well on you, bunny.”
Felix looks up at her, suddenly curious, eyebrows knitting a little. “Bunny?” he asks.
Oh shit, I just said that out loud, Christine realizes. How do I tell him?
“It’s…how I think about you sometimes. Like a nickname. I'm sorry, I should have realized it would make you uncomfortable. I won't say it again.”
“It’s like a pet name?” Felix asks.
“Yeah.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then says in a small voice, “I never thought anyone would like that part of me enough to use it for a pet name.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“I don't mind it coming from you.”
“You sure?”
He looks her dead in the eyes. “Will you say it again?”
She runs her thumb along his cheekbone. “Do you like it when I call you ‘bunny?’”
He smiles, slow and soft, and nods eagerly. He did such a good job using his words just now to tell her how he felt. She rewards him with a kiss. Even so, there's a tension to him, thrumming through every muscle, and not just the one that’s conveniently nestled between her legs. Today’s been a lot for both of them. Maybe this is far enough for now. It's fun to push his buttons, but she doesn't want to push his boundaries.
She traces his cheekbone again. “Hey, you know I won't mind if you want to take things slow,” she tells him.
He breathes a shaky sigh and she feels him relax. “That…that honestly sounds really good, Chrissy,” he says, looking up at her with trust and adoration. “I…I want more, but…” He looks to the side, clearly still conflicted with some part of himself. “Maybe not tonight?” He says it like he’s asking for something huge. It makes her heart clench to see this side of him.
“I understand,” she says. “I want more too, but we don’t need to rush, okay? We have time. We'll go as slow as you want.”
“Here, can we…” Felix lifts her so he can slide down the couch a little more, then she’s re-deposited on top of him. For someone so gangly, she always forgets how strong Felix is. He’s looking up at her with a goofy grin, like he can’t believe his luck. She returns it.
“Thank you,” she says. “For being willing to talk with me about…us.”
“Sure,” he says. “No problem.” Now that he's out of the woods, she can see his guard creep back up, just a little.
“Felix,” she says, as she snuggles down under his arm, along his side, between him and the couch, “if we’re going to be together, we’ve gotta find a better way to talk about our feelings than…whatever this is.”
“Aw, but making up is the best part! Eventually,” he says.
She laughs. “It has a certain appeal, but I think we’d kill each other.”
“Hmm. You’re probably right.” He’s close enough to plant a kiss on the top of her head.
They watch another episode of Bake Off, warm and comfortable, simply enjoying their newfound closeness. Christine can’t get the smile off her face, and when she checks Felix’s expression, he’s got the same kind of dopey grin. And she has to restrain herself; she wants to check about every six seconds to see if it's still there.
It’s nearly eleven when she finally decides she needs to start getting ready for bed, a process delayed almost another ten minutes because Felix pulls her in for a kiss when she tries to climb over him and, well, there’s nothing to do but kiss him back. Finally he lets her go. She gets ready while he uses the bathroom, and then when she finishes brushing her teeth, she sees him once again sitting on the couch. He glances up from his phone at her, his expression anticipatory.
“You coming?” she asks, jerking her head towards her bedroom.
“Oh, uh, yeah. I just wasn’t sure if…”
“Felix,” she says, smiling at him. “Get your ass into bed, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He rushes past her and burrows under the covers on his side of the bed. She realizes that she already thinks of it as his side of the bed, and feels a funny warmth in her chest. As she climbs under the covers, she sees that Felix is peeking out at her from a cocoon of sheets, only his face visible. It makes her laugh.
“Come here,” she says, and pats her chest. He gets the idea and slides closer, puts his head there, so she can card her fingers through his hair again.
“God, I missed this,” he says, eyes already closed.
“It was like three nights without it!” she says.
“Doesn’t matter, still missed it.”
“You dork,” she says. Then admits: “I missed it too.”
After a few minutes of this, even though Felix is turned away from her, she realizes he’s tensed up again.
“You’re thinking too loud,” she teases.
“I’ll keep it down,” he mutters.
Christine decides to give him one last nudge for tonight. “Orrr…you could talk to me about it,” she says. “You did so well earlier.”
Felix sighs, and for a minute she thinks he might pull away, put his walls back up. But he surprises her by saying, in a very small voice: “I don’t deserve this.”
“You don’t deserve cuddles?” Christine asks, her hand stilling in his hair.
“I don’t deserve you. Forgiveness. All of this. And I’m not…I’m not good at getting things I actually want.” He pauses. “I don’t have much practice at it.”
“Lucky you wound up with me, then,” Christine says. “I’m gonna love you whether you like it or not.”
Felix cranes his head to look at her, that same wide-eyed look as before. Not quite believing it.
“Hey,” Christine says. “Let me put it another way. Do you trust me to kick your ass when it needs kicking?”
He props himself up on an elbow and narrows his eyes. “...yes? You once beat the shit out of me because I wouldn’t fight you.”
She snorts. “It was about more than that.”
“Pompom, you literally attacked me while yelling at me to fight back.”
“And it kind of worked, right?” Christine says. “I mean, you said a bunch of cringy stuff about everyone being your playthings–”
“God, don’t remind me.”
“–but I did get you to stop bullshitting me, just for a second. And that was when you still kind of hated me.”
“...yeah, I guess so.”
“If you trust me to deliver a necessary ass kicking, then trust me when I tell you it’s okay to want something. I want you to want things. I want you to feel safe. I want you to…to flourish, okay? I want to find out who Felix is. All of you.” She smiles. “I can’t promise you’ll never piss me off, which is why I’m keeping my ass-kicking rights. But I promise to try, if you promise to try too.”
He thinks it over for a long moment, and then settles back down against her, this time fully relaxing into her embrace. She loves the weight of him on her chest. “Deal,” he says. “As long as you don’t chomp my leg with your gremlin teeth.”
“Okay, once again, I do not have gremlin teeth!” She pokes him on the temple.
“Look Pomni, we’ve gotta agree to disagree about something,” Felix says, the smile creeping back into his voice. “Otherwise we’re gonna become one of those lovey-dovey couples who never argues at all, and I refuse to let us be that boring.”
Christine chuckles as she goes back to scratching his scalp, because of all the things she can imagine about a life together with Felix, boring is not on the list.