lysistrategic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lysistrategic) wrote2012-06-03 10:01 pm
lysistrategic) wrote2012-06-03 10:01 pm
[For Arthur] Operation: Empty Nest
The walk back from the new aquarium is long and filled mostly with restless silence, the kind they've not shared since Arthur's arrival on the island, but long familiar to both of them. It's not, ultimately, an uncomfortable silence, not with Joan's fingers laced with his - far more unfamiliar to both of them than the silence itself, simply one where words and emotions won't align and brush up against each other looking for the way out.
It persists until they're home, and thankfully Emily and Matt seem still to be out. Joan inclines her head to the bedroom, and when Arthur nods, she finally breaks the silence to say, "I'll pour us a drink." That will, also out of long habit, tell her husband she means to retreat to the bedroom for private conversation rather than sex, although that, too, is very much on her mind.
Never more so than lately, after her conversation with Emily on the night of Matt's arrival. She supposes - as Arthur smiles his fond approval and she retrieves glasses from the bar to pour two glasses of fume blanc and decides to bring the bottle - she has been very fortunate in that regard. Their sex life has always been passion-filled and mutually satisfactory.
Retreating to the bedroom herself, Joan hooks the door on her heel and pulls it shut. She hands Arthur his glass as she perches her hip on the chair they've brought in. It's not like the study at home, but it functions the same way. An intermediate place between their public lives and their intimate one, where they can talk and ease their way back to lovers from coworkers. Here, though, it's different, isn't it? Since she brought up the most intimate of topics in a public place and now they've still got so much to say to each other.
It takes her several minutes to find the thread of her thoughts from earlier and her free hand trails to play idly with the buttons of the dress shirt he insists upon wearing even here (and she rarely argues, since he's a handsome man and she's more than a little vain about how they look together) while she thinks. "You must think I'm a harpy and that I don't trust you at all," she says finally, somewhat reluctantly.
It persists until they're home, and thankfully Emily and Matt seem still to be out. Joan inclines her head to the bedroom, and when Arthur nods, she finally breaks the silence to say, "I'll pour us a drink." That will, also out of long habit, tell her husband she means to retreat to the bedroom for private conversation rather than sex, although that, too, is very much on her mind.
Never more so than lately, after her conversation with Emily on the night of Matt's arrival. She supposes - as Arthur smiles his fond approval and she retrieves glasses from the bar to pour two glasses of fume blanc and decides to bring the bottle - she has been very fortunate in that regard. Their sex life has always been passion-filled and mutually satisfactory.
Retreating to the bedroom herself, Joan hooks the door on her heel and pulls it shut. She hands Arthur his glass as she perches her hip on the chair they've brought in. It's not like the study at home, but it functions the same way. An intermediate place between their public lives and their intimate one, where they can talk and ease their way back to lovers from coworkers. Here, though, it's different, isn't it? Since she brought up the most intimate of topics in a public place and now they've still got so much to say to each other.
It takes her several minutes to find the thread of her thoughts from earlier and her free hand trails to play idly with the buttons of the dress shirt he insists upon wearing even here (and she rarely argues, since he's a handsome man and she's more than a little vain about how they look together) while she thinks. "You must think I'm a harpy and that I don't trust you at all," she says finally, somewhat reluctantly.
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"I did trade Geena in for someone that suited me better." He chose his words carefully. "But not for someone that suited me for where I was at the time. You suited me and still do far better than Geena ever did. You understand me in ways that she will never get and you make me become a better man, something that she never could do. Yes, there are amazing, beautiful, intelligent women on the island, just as there are a plethora of them in DC, but none would ever think to get me Manning for an anniversary gift. That comes from someone that knows me and loves me anyway."
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Almost, because it would do them a disservice to turn away from conversation for bed when they're communicating effectively. "There is no 'anyway', Arthur. I love you for the stubborn, overbearing, overprotective, damned if you do and if you don't patriot that you are. Nothing has ever made me angrier than the thought that you'd been sleeping with someone else. Nothing has ever made me more willing to shed every last bit of reserve and fight. This island isn't big enough for me and you in love with someone who isn't me." It's all said with a deceptive mildness, Joan's self-perfected mask of civility and restraint, that only Arthur and Meg truly knew to look behind for the ferocity there. She tips her head, lashes dropping in a calculating sort of look. "I won't ever go quietly. That's why I need to know, for sure, that you don't want a child, because if I'm going to give you one, we need to do that now before it becomes impossible."
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It also is sexy as hell, hearing her say that she wouldn't go quietly.
His fingertips lightly caress her arm where his fingers rest and he slowly shakes his head. "If we were to have an unplanned child, I would be very happy with him or her in our lives." Arthur caveats that with, "but I made my choice long ago to not have a family, not putting them in danger because of my job. If we could guarantee that we'd stay here on the island, I'd like nothing more than to have a blend of you and me here. But, we can't and a child of ours back in DC would be used as leverage against us, both by our enemies and colleagues."
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But there is something new now, not a desire, but a soft wistfulness that she would never have expected. She unbuttons the second button of his shirt and leans into him to kiss the small triangle of his chest that she's revealed. "I don't think it's practical, even if we could guarantee that we'd be here and never leave a child behind. We're both far too set in our ways to handle a baby. But--" Her voice softens and her eyes with it when she meets his gaze again. "I can't deny there's a simple--" Not simple, terribly complex and inexplicable, but still simple in its effect. "Pleasure in knowing that you'd want that with me. I love you very much, Arthur." And that is simple.
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He reaches up and cups the side of her cheek and strokes the skin with his thumb. “And I love you very much, Joan.” Arthur isn’t just parroting it back to her because it’s expected. Neither would do that, but it’s heartfelt and meant. “I never indulge in foolish what ifs or might have beens, but I honestly would have wanted to have a child with you if our paths had gone that way.”
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Not long after, possibly to rescue them from the sentiment of the moment as she often will, Joan's eyes sparkle with something more interesting than tears. "My birth control's still effective, but there's nothing to stop us from indulging in a little roleplay..."
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