fickle_obsessed (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fickle_obsessed) wrote2013-08-27 08:48 pm
fickle_obsessed) wrote2013-08-27 08:48 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Square Age Play
Fandom Skins
Pairing Cassie Ainsworth/Mark Jenkins
Rating PG-15
It’s 11.30pm and Mark’s in what passes for pyjamas in his mind - a pain of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt because he doesn’t see himself as the sort of man that would buy actual pyjamas let alone wear them. He’s drunk a little too much whiskey and is considering going to bed when there’s a knock at the door, tentative and quiet as if whoever’s on the other side really doesn’t want to interrupt or disturb him. He knows exactly who it is. She always knocks like that, as if she knows she shouldn’t be there, as if she only wants him to open the door because he’s listening out for that knock, and sometimes he’s fairly certain he is, because sometimes it doesn’t come and he goes up to bed alone in his now empty house and hates it more every single time. He doesn’t leap up, he’s too tired and just a little too drunk for that. What he does do is push himself up from his arm chair and pad over to the front door in bare feet and a half smile as he opens it to be greeted with her, his son’s ex girlfriend standing on his doorstep. Sometimes she’s all smiles and hugs but tonight’s different. Tonight her eyes are red rimmed, her arms wrapped around herself and she isn’t wearing nearly enough clothes for the cold night air.
“Cass?”
She blinks up at him, tries for a smile but gives up half way through. “Can I come in?” She always asks that, every single time, as if he’s ever going to say no. He hadn’t turned her away the first night, when he’d had absolutely no idea what she was even doing there, when he’d assumed she’d been looking for Sid and he certainly wasn’t going to turn her away now. Though admittedly he’s still a little confused about what the hell’s going on between them.
“Course, darling,” he says, stepping away from the door as she steps in and he notices her shoes, silver ballet pumps damp with rain, and her hair’s wet as well he realises. She’s wearing nothing but what he’d refer to as a slip, but might actually be a dress and his first instinct is to carry her upstairs, to bundle her up and run her a bath and just hold onto her until she’s warm again.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she explains just standing there in his hallway, like she doesn’t know where to go or what to do. “Chris-” and her voice cracks on his name, her eyes close and somehow she seems to get smaller, like she’s crumpling in on herself and before he can even think about what he’s doing his arms are around her and he’s lifting her off the ground and hugging him against her.
“Mark?” she says, holding onto him, legs and arms around him, her face buried against his neck. “Can I stay here for a bit? I can’t stand it, the flat…without him.”
“Course you can,” he says without a seconds thought. “You’re always welcome here, darling. You know that, don’t you?”
She kisses his neck gingerly and pulls back, looking at him with watery eyes, only this time she actually does smile. “You’re so lovely,” she says, leaning in to kiss him delicately on the cheek.
“It’s nothing,” he says, his skin hot and burning and he wonders just how red his cheeks are. He’s never thought of himself as the type of man to blush but there’s just something about her. She’s just so sweet, so delicate and all he wants to do is protect her from the things the world’s done to her. “You’re frozen,” he says, trying to change the subject, because he can’t handle compliments, especially not from this strange and beautiful 18 year old girl in his arms. And then he’s carrying her up the stairs, the TV and whiskey forgotten as he takes her into his bedroom and sets her down lightly on the bed.
“Would you like me to run you a bath, sweetheart?”
She tilts her head, looks at him properly for the first time since she arrived, because before now her head had been full of thoughts of Chris and how lonely she is and then they’d been too close for her to really be able to look at him. “You’re ready for bed,” she says.
He shrugs it off. “Just wanted to get out of my shirt, that’s all. I was just having a wee nightcap, trying to relax after a hard days work, you know? It‘s fine.”
“You’ve got work tomorrow,” she says, as if she’s just remembered that part, like she’s forgotten he’s a grown man with responsibilities.
“I’m owed some time off actually,” he admits. He hasn’t taken it because what the hell is he going to do with it? Sit in the house without getting dressed and drink all day?
“Yeah?” she smiles again, that beautiful wide smile that’s enough to fool him into thinking the world isn’t a pretty crap place, and that maybe somehow things will be okay in one way or another.
“I’ll phone them in the morning. Take the rest of the week off while we get you settled in,” he says. “Now that bath?”
“You sure you don’t just want to go to bed?”
“You’ll catch your death going to bed with wet hair. Bath, then bed, okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees, watching as he turns and walks out of his room before calling him again. “Love you, Mark.”
He stops on the landing. He doesn’t suppose she means it like that, but it makes him feel warm, it makes him smile because he can’t remember the last time he heard anyone say those words to him, let alone someone less than half his age.
“Wow,” she says, as she gazes down at the blue water and the white bubbles on top before turning to look at him. “Bubbles?”
“Aye well…” he feels a little awkward suddenly. He’d found it in the bottom of a drawer while he’d been looking to see if he had any decent shampoo and things for her to use and it had just felt right, like Cassie couldn’t possibly have a bath without bubbles.
“It’s lovely,” she says, toeing off her pumps and reaching down to pull off her dress, before she kisses him on the cheek again. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, trying not to look at her too much, because he still feels guilty about the whole thing, because he still isn’t 100% on what this whole thing is and he would ask but really he doesn’t want to know the answer.
“Chris and I had no hot water for a week once,” she says, as she removes her white cotton underwear and steps into the bath. “So no, it’s not nothing. It’s wonderful and thoughtful, and…” she turns in the water, to find him standing there, eyes downcast and reaches out for his hand, pulling forward and down to her level. “You’re so nice,” she tells him, raising slightly out of the water and kissing him on the lips this time, gentle and chaste, but that and the glimpse of her naked is enough to get him semi hard.
“Not really,” he mumbles. If he’s so nice way have his wife and son left him?
She frowns then, touches his face with her warm, wet hand and looks at him. He has such sad eyes, even when he’s smiling. He isn’t as good at this pretending business as she is. She can see right through him and it hurts, because he isn’t a bad man. At least he’s always cared about Sid, at least he didn’t just ignore him like her parents did. “You’re lovely,” she says again, thumb brushing across his cheek. She’s glad she went out with Sid if only so she could meet him, and she knows this won’t last either, but for now it’s something, she just needs him to believe they can actually try being happy, just a while.
“Cass…” He knows for sure now that his cheeks are burning red, but he can’t pull away because that would be like rejecting her and there’s no way in hell he’s going to do that.
“Sorry,” she says and she lets go. Some things are difficult to hear, some things you’re just never going to believe because they go against everything you know about yourself. She knows that well enough. “Will you help me wash my hair?” she asks, looking around for some shampoo.
He retrieves it from the cabinet beside him, glad for the change of topic and tone as he squeezes some into his hand. “Turn round then.”
She does as she’s told, leaning back against the bath so he doesn’t have to move, ignores the part of her that wants him in here with her, because it isn’t really like that - them. No matter how much she’d like it to be.
“You know I used to do this for Sid,” he says, as he massages the shampoo into her hair carefully. “Total bloody nightmare mind, he was always thrashing about and crying about me getting soap in his eyes, which I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been moving about so much!”
Smiling she closes her eyes, just in case. “I don’t remember mum or dad ever washing my hair. I mean…they must’ve, right? Because it got washed but…I don’t remember it. And I used to wash Reuben’s.” She stops talking suddenly. Just another person she’s lost. She’s only 18 and there are so many of them, people she’s not sure she’ll ever see again.
One hand moves to her shoulder, grips it gently, not sure what to say. They must have loved her, that’s how it works with parents, isn’t it? Maybe they just didn’t know how to show it, not that he can exactly talk there.
“I’m okay,” she says, resting her hand over his, squeezing it a little. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Aye,” he sighs, though he knows she’s lying. If she was okay there’s no way she’d be here with him. “Do you trust me to rinse your hair? I’ll do my best not to blind you.”
“Course.” She leans further into the bath then, head back and back arched so he won’t get water all over the carpet or all over her face and she waits for the sound of running water, only nothing happens. “Mark?” she says, opening her eyes and turning to look at him.
He’s staring, open mouthed, at the sight of her in the water like that and he knows it isn’t a sexual thing, that she isn’t in that position because of how amazing it makes her look, because of the way it curves her spine and presents her breasts, but he just can’t help it. She really is so beautiful, all pale white skin and fragility. “Sorry,” he says quickly, shifting to try and hide his erection, pulling his gaze away to run water into the sink so he can rinse off her hair.
“It’s okay,” she assures him, not moving, because she likes him looking at her like that. Like she’s something special, attractive, because only Sid has ever looked at her like that until now.
“I shouldn’t…fuck,” he hisses as he burns himself on the hot tap, trying desperately to remember what to do. Washing someone’s hair should not be this difficult, even if it has been years since he’s done it for someone else, and there’s now a naked girl involved.
“You okay?” she asks, as he sucks his finger against the pain.
“Aye, aye, fine. Can you just…” he waves vaguely in her direction. Cover up. He rarely sees her naked, particularly not in such bright lighting and for so long and it really is more distracting than it should be.
“Sorry,” she says, sitting up, folding one arm over her breasts. “Is this better?”
“Aye, thanks.” He dips his hand into the now full sink, checking the water isn’t too hot or too cold before filling the jug and leaning over the bath, over Cassie, pouring it carefully over her hair, fingers stroking over it, keeping it out of her face, and helping remove the soap. “All done,” he says, a while later, kissing her shoulder and sitting back on his knees.
She reaches up, pulling her hair back into a pony tail, squeezing out the excess water. She only ever gets to have baths here, normally she runs them herself though, in the morning after he’s gone off to work. Normally she uses his shampoo and his shower gel and spends the rest of the day smelling like him, and it’s comforting, like he’s with her even when she goes back to the empty flat. Part of her just wants to stay here, enjoying the hot water, because he’s right, she was frozen. She’d walked over here without even changing from what she’d been wearing in bed, because she couldn’t stand it anymore, being alone, missing Chris. The other part wants to be back in bed, back in the warmth of his arms where she can finally sleep, finally feel safe.
“Want the towel?” he asks, already reaching back for it.
“Thanks,” she says, noting the way he looks away and holds out the towel for her, It’s warm from the radiator as she steps into it, and soft as he wraps it, and his arms around her, His hands move firm but tender over her back, helping dry her off as she leans back against him.
Slowly he stands, pulling her up with him, keeping her close against him. “Bed, darling?”
“Bed,” she agrees, as his hand moves from her back, over her shoulder and guides her back towards his bedroom to sit at the foot of the bed as he leaves her there, finds the hairdryer Liz left when she went, plugging it in by the bedside and moving to sit beside her with it in his hands. He doesn’t ask if he wants him to dry her hair for her, just does it instinctively despite the fact he has no idea what he’s actually doing, when it comes to another person. Cassie shifts and turns to help him though, making sure she doesn’t get her head burnt and that the air’s distributed evenly.
“You can stop now,” she says over the sound of the dryer and he turns it off, puts it down on the floor and looks at her, sitting there in nothing but a towel, her hair curlier than normal and god she’s beautiful. So beautiful it’s almost enough to take his breath away.
“Anything you need?” he asks. “Do you want to borrow a t-shirt to sleep in? Or I can go and get your clothes from the bathroom?” She should have things here really. It’s been months since they’ve been doing this, but all she has is a toothbrush.
“Whichever you want,” she says. Really she doesn’t want anything to wear, she’d quite happily sleep with him naked, but they’ve never done that, it’s like they’re both too scared to take things any further.
He doesn’t want to leave her alone, that’s the thing. So he grabs a clean t-shirt from the chest of drawers and hands it over, turning away again as she starts to remove the towel.
“Mark?” she says, a hint of a amusement in her voice as she tugs on his t-shirt. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” He still isn’t looking at her, as if he’s afraid he might see something inappropriate.
“It’s safe to turn around now.”
He feels like an idiot, but he’d rather avoid the temptation, the disappointment because there’s no way she could want to have sex with him, kissing him is one thing, but sex is quite another.
She’s already crawling into bed when he turns around, goes to the other side of the bed and gets in beside her. The moment he is she’s there, head on his chest, reaching for, and pulling his arm across her.
“You sure you don’t mind me staying a while?” she asks, shuffling against him, trying to get comfortable.
“Cass…” he’d turn over to wrap his arms properly around her, but he likes this, having her so close, on top of him. “I couldn’t think of anything better.” He needs looking after, he isn’t made to be alone, he just can’t quite cope. He dips his head, kisses her hair, tightens his arm around her, as his fingers brush against her stomach over the fabric of his t-shirt.
Smiling she turns so she’s facing him, head still on his chest, because she likes listening to the beating of his heart. It’s comforting and steady enough to lull her to sleep. “Will you come with me to get my things?”
“Course I will. You should pack some things to leave here, you know? Or you could just stay. Move in properly.”
She thinks for a moment that she’s fallen asleep, because he couldn’t possibly be asking her that in reality, because she just isn’t that lucky. And she wants to move, to look him in the eye, but that requires movement, and she really doesn’t want to do that. “Is that what you want?” she asks, snuggling closer into the warmth of his body through his t-shirt.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
And she knows that’s true, why would he? He has to know all he has to do is call and she’d been there, although he never has to, because she shows up weekly at least, because all she wants is to be here with him,. Finally she moves, because she can’t not, she needs to see his face and she needs him to see hers. And she’s smiling, warm and genuine down at him. She touches his hair, runs her fingers through it. “I love you,” she says and she’s never meant it as much before.
He reaches up in turn, runs his finger through her hair. He can’t believe it, he just can’t, because she’s just too young, too lovely, too kind. “Don’t,” he says.
“But I do,” she assures him, turning her face towards his hand, kissing his palm. “You’re so special, so wonderful.” And she wants him so much all she can think about it taking off her t-shirt and his, of taking full advantage of being in bed with him for the first time ever.
“You make me better than I am,” he says, and it sounds ridiculous, like the kind of bullshit line you’d hear in a crap chick flick, but it’s true. He’s learnt his lesson by losing Liz. He won’t be that man again, not if he can possibly help it. And Cassie, Cassie listens to him, doesn’t make him feel like a failure, like she’s settling for second, third, forth best.
“I’m glad,” she says, and she leans in to kiss him, a proper real, genuine kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth and he can’t resist, he can’t stop himself from sliding his tongue into hers, from kissing her properly, like he used to kiss when he was young and carefree. They don’t kiss like this, it’s always just lips and hands, and it was enough, it was better than nothing, actually it was better than any number of things, because she’s always so tender, so soft and warm. But this, this is incredible. He feels like a teenager again, desperate and horny and he shouldn’t let himself get like his because it can’t possibly end how he wants it to, but her tongue’s in his mouth, her hands are in his hair, tugging and it means so much more than he wants it to. It was simple before, when they just shared a bed, when she’d kiss him goodnight then turn over and they’d sleep in each other’s arms, knowing they weren’t alone anymore. But now she’s moaning against his mouth, touching his unimpressive body like she wants to get below the fabric, wants to feel his skin and it’s impossible not to react to that.
“Sleep with me,” she says as she pulls back. “Look at me.” And it’s funny, because she doesn’t like being looked at, she’d rather have darkness and anonymity, but not with him, never with him. She sits up, pulls off the t-shirt, tosses it aside and locks her eyes on his, challenging him to look away, to do what he always does.
“You don’t want to do this,” he says, because how can she possibly want to? He’s old and flabby and apparently not very good at this and she’s…god she’s breathtaking, she really is.
She smiles, touches his chest, scrunches the fabric of his t-shirt up in her hand. “Yes, I do,” she tells him, and she wants him to believe her so badly, because it’s all she wants, all she can think about sometimes- when she’s in bed with him, or in bed alone. It’s the thought that stops her weeping over Chris sometimes, the only thing that actually manages to make her smile, but it’s so, so frustrating. “More than anything.”
“Cassie.” He can’t bear it - the thought of disappointing her, which he will and then she’ll leave, because why the hell would she stay?
“You don’t have to,” she says. “If you don’t want;”
“Cass,” he sits up, because this is not a conversation to be had lying down. “It’s all I want. You’re all I want. Fuck!.” He presses his lips together, unsure of what to do with his hands now she’s naked. He wants to touch her, so much he has to ball his hands up into fists just to keep them in check, because if he does that if isn’t sure he’ll be able to stop and he has to. He can’t let this happen, he just can’t.
“So why don’t you?” It’s so simple in her mind, yet so difficult to him and she doesn’t want to have to talk him into it because that’s just not right, and she’s not sure the tiny bit of self-esteem she has can take it.
“Because I can’t, Cass, I can’t.”
Slowly she nods, tears in her eyes and she removes herself from him, leans over the bed to find his t-shirt and pull it back on, curls in on herself on the other side of the bed and tries not to cry.
“Cass.”
She doesn’t respond, her eyes are closed too tightly and she doesn’t trust her voice not to betray how utterly ruined she is, how stupid and lost she feels.
“Cass,” he says again, moving closer to her, because he can’t let her be alone, can’t not wrap his arms around her no matter how awkward things are. He just needs her to know he’s there. Gently he rocks her against him, kisses her hair, tries to soothe her.
“I’ll wait,” she says, pressing herself against him, desperate for any contact she can get from him even now. “As long as you want.”
And he’s sure it won’t take long, not if she’s living here with him, which is the plan now and he knows he won’t be able to resist her forever, he doesn’t even want to, he just feels like he should for as long as possible.
Fandom Skins
Pairing Cassie Ainsworth/Mark Jenkins
Rating PG-15
It’s 11.30pm and Mark’s in what passes for pyjamas in his mind - a pain of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt because he doesn’t see himself as the sort of man that would buy actual pyjamas let alone wear them. He’s drunk a little too much whiskey and is considering going to bed when there’s a knock at the door, tentative and quiet as if whoever’s on the other side really doesn’t want to interrupt or disturb him. He knows exactly who it is. She always knocks like that, as if she knows she shouldn’t be there, as if she only wants him to open the door because he’s listening out for that knock, and sometimes he’s fairly certain he is, because sometimes it doesn’t come and he goes up to bed alone in his now empty house and hates it more every single time. He doesn’t leap up, he’s too tired and just a little too drunk for that. What he does do is push himself up from his arm chair and pad over to the front door in bare feet and a half smile as he opens it to be greeted with her, his son’s ex girlfriend standing on his doorstep. Sometimes she’s all smiles and hugs but tonight’s different. Tonight her eyes are red rimmed, her arms wrapped around herself and she isn’t wearing nearly enough clothes for the cold night air.
“Cass?”
She blinks up at him, tries for a smile but gives up half way through. “Can I come in?” She always asks that, every single time, as if he’s ever going to say no. He hadn’t turned her away the first night, when he’d had absolutely no idea what she was even doing there, when he’d assumed she’d been looking for Sid and he certainly wasn’t going to turn her away now. Though admittedly he’s still a little confused about what the hell’s going on between them.
“Course, darling,” he says, stepping away from the door as she steps in and he notices her shoes, silver ballet pumps damp with rain, and her hair’s wet as well he realises. She’s wearing nothing but what he’d refer to as a slip, but might actually be a dress and his first instinct is to carry her upstairs, to bundle her up and run her a bath and just hold onto her until she’s warm again.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she explains just standing there in his hallway, like she doesn’t know where to go or what to do. “Chris-” and her voice cracks on his name, her eyes close and somehow she seems to get smaller, like she’s crumpling in on herself and before he can even think about what he’s doing his arms are around her and he’s lifting her off the ground and hugging him against her.
“Mark?” she says, holding onto him, legs and arms around him, her face buried against his neck. “Can I stay here for a bit? I can’t stand it, the flat…without him.”
“Course you can,” he says without a seconds thought. “You’re always welcome here, darling. You know that, don’t you?”
She kisses his neck gingerly and pulls back, looking at him with watery eyes, only this time she actually does smile. “You’re so lovely,” she says, leaning in to kiss him delicately on the cheek.
“It’s nothing,” he says, his skin hot and burning and he wonders just how red his cheeks are. He’s never thought of himself as the type of man to blush but there’s just something about her. She’s just so sweet, so delicate and all he wants to do is protect her from the things the world’s done to her. “You’re frozen,” he says, trying to change the subject, because he can’t handle compliments, especially not from this strange and beautiful 18 year old girl in his arms. And then he’s carrying her up the stairs, the TV and whiskey forgotten as he takes her into his bedroom and sets her down lightly on the bed.
“Would you like me to run you a bath, sweetheart?”
She tilts her head, looks at him properly for the first time since she arrived, because before now her head had been full of thoughts of Chris and how lonely she is and then they’d been too close for her to really be able to look at him. “You’re ready for bed,” she says.
He shrugs it off. “Just wanted to get out of my shirt, that’s all. I was just having a wee nightcap, trying to relax after a hard days work, you know? It‘s fine.”
“You’ve got work tomorrow,” she says, as if she’s just remembered that part, like she’s forgotten he’s a grown man with responsibilities.
“I’m owed some time off actually,” he admits. He hasn’t taken it because what the hell is he going to do with it? Sit in the house without getting dressed and drink all day?
“Yeah?” she smiles again, that beautiful wide smile that’s enough to fool him into thinking the world isn’t a pretty crap place, and that maybe somehow things will be okay in one way or another.
“I’ll phone them in the morning. Take the rest of the week off while we get you settled in,” he says. “Now that bath?”
“You sure you don’t just want to go to bed?”
“You’ll catch your death going to bed with wet hair. Bath, then bed, okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees, watching as he turns and walks out of his room before calling him again. “Love you, Mark.”
He stops on the landing. He doesn’t suppose she means it like that, but it makes him feel warm, it makes him smile because he can’t remember the last time he heard anyone say those words to him, let alone someone less than half his age.
“Wow,” she says, as she gazes down at the blue water and the white bubbles on top before turning to look at him. “Bubbles?”
“Aye well…” he feels a little awkward suddenly. He’d found it in the bottom of a drawer while he’d been looking to see if he had any decent shampoo and things for her to use and it had just felt right, like Cassie couldn’t possibly have a bath without bubbles.
“It’s lovely,” she says, toeing off her pumps and reaching down to pull off her dress, before she kisses him on the cheek again. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, trying not to look at her too much, because he still feels guilty about the whole thing, because he still isn’t 100% on what this whole thing is and he would ask but really he doesn’t want to know the answer.
“Chris and I had no hot water for a week once,” she says, as she removes her white cotton underwear and steps into the bath. “So no, it’s not nothing. It’s wonderful and thoughtful, and…” she turns in the water, to find him standing there, eyes downcast and reaches out for his hand, pulling forward and down to her level. “You’re so nice,” she tells him, raising slightly out of the water and kissing him on the lips this time, gentle and chaste, but that and the glimpse of her naked is enough to get him semi hard.
“Not really,” he mumbles. If he’s so nice way have his wife and son left him?
She frowns then, touches his face with her warm, wet hand and looks at him. He has such sad eyes, even when he’s smiling. He isn’t as good at this pretending business as she is. She can see right through him and it hurts, because he isn’t a bad man. At least he’s always cared about Sid, at least he didn’t just ignore him like her parents did. “You’re lovely,” she says again, thumb brushing across his cheek. She’s glad she went out with Sid if only so she could meet him, and she knows this won’t last either, but for now it’s something, she just needs him to believe they can actually try being happy, just a while.
“Cass…” He knows for sure now that his cheeks are burning red, but he can’t pull away because that would be like rejecting her and there’s no way in hell he’s going to do that.
“Sorry,” she says and she lets go. Some things are difficult to hear, some things you’re just never going to believe because they go against everything you know about yourself. She knows that well enough. “Will you help me wash my hair?” she asks, looking around for some shampoo.
He retrieves it from the cabinet beside him, glad for the change of topic and tone as he squeezes some into his hand. “Turn round then.”
She does as she’s told, leaning back against the bath so he doesn’t have to move, ignores the part of her that wants him in here with her, because it isn’t really like that - them. No matter how much she’d like it to be.
“You know I used to do this for Sid,” he says, as he massages the shampoo into her hair carefully. “Total bloody nightmare mind, he was always thrashing about and crying about me getting soap in his eyes, which I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been moving about so much!”
Smiling she closes her eyes, just in case. “I don’t remember mum or dad ever washing my hair. I mean…they must’ve, right? Because it got washed but…I don’t remember it. And I used to wash Reuben’s.” She stops talking suddenly. Just another person she’s lost. She’s only 18 and there are so many of them, people she’s not sure she’ll ever see again.
One hand moves to her shoulder, grips it gently, not sure what to say. They must have loved her, that’s how it works with parents, isn’t it? Maybe they just didn’t know how to show it, not that he can exactly talk there.
“I’m okay,” she says, resting her hand over his, squeezing it a little. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Aye,” he sighs, though he knows she’s lying. If she was okay there’s no way she’d be here with him. “Do you trust me to rinse your hair? I’ll do my best not to blind you.”
“Course.” She leans further into the bath then, head back and back arched so he won’t get water all over the carpet or all over her face and she waits for the sound of running water, only nothing happens. “Mark?” she says, opening her eyes and turning to look at him.
He’s staring, open mouthed, at the sight of her in the water like that and he knows it isn’t a sexual thing, that she isn’t in that position because of how amazing it makes her look, because of the way it curves her spine and presents her breasts, but he just can’t help it. She really is so beautiful, all pale white skin and fragility. “Sorry,” he says quickly, shifting to try and hide his erection, pulling his gaze away to run water into the sink so he can rinse off her hair.
“It’s okay,” she assures him, not moving, because she likes him looking at her like that. Like she’s something special, attractive, because only Sid has ever looked at her like that until now.
“I shouldn’t…fuck,” he hisses as he burns himself on the hot tap, trying desperately to remember what to do. Washing someone’s hair should not be this difficult, even if it has been years since he’s done it for someone else, and there’s now a naked girl involved.
“You okay?” she asks, as he sucks his finger against the pain.
“Aye, aye, fine. Can you just…” he waves vaguely in her direction. Cover up. He rarely sees her naked, particularly not in such bright lighting and for so long and it really is more distracting than it should be.
“Sorry,” she says, sitting up, folding one arm over her breasts. “Is this better?”
“Aye, thanks.” He dips his hand into the now full sink, checking the water isn’t too hot or too cold before filling the jug and leaning over the bath, over Cassie, pouring it carefully over her hair, fingers stroking over it, keeping it out of her face, and helping remove the soap. “All done,” he says, a while later, kissing her shoulder and sitting back on his knees.
She reaches up, pulling her hair back into a pony tail, squeezing out the excess water. She only ever gets to have baths here, normally she runs them herself though, in the morning after he’s gone off to work. Normally she uses his shampoo and his shower gel and spends the rest of the day smelling like him, and it’s comforting, like he’s with her even when she goes back to the empty flat. Part of her just wants to stay here, enjoying the hot water, because he’s right, she was frozen. She’d walked over here without even changing from what she’d been wearing in bed, because she couldn’t stand it anymore, being alone, missing Chris. The other part wants to be back in bed, back in the warmth of his arms where she can finally sleep, finally feel safe.
“Want the towel?” he asks, already reaching back for it.
“Thanks,” she says, noting the way he looks away and holds out the towel for her, It’s warm from the radiator as she steps into it, and soft as he wraps it, and his arms around her, His hands move firm but tender over her back, helping dry her off as she leans back against him.
Slowly he stands, pulling her up with him, keeping her close against him. “Bed, darling?”
“Bed,” she agrees, as his hand moves from her back, over her shoulder and guides her back towards his bedroom to sit at the foot of the bed as he leaves her there, finds the hairdryer Liz left when she went, plugging it in by the bedside and moving to sit beside her with it in his hands. He doesn’t ask if he wants him to dry her hair for her, just does it instinctively despite the fact he has no idea what he’s actually doing, when it comes to another person. Cassie shifts and turns to help him though, making sure she doesn’t get her head burnt and that the air’s distributed evenly.
“You can stop now,” she says over the sound of the dryer and he turns it off, puts it down on the floor and looks at her, sitting there in nothing but a towel, her hair curlier than normal and god she’s beautiful. So beautiful it’s almost enough to take his breath away.
“Anything you need?” he asks. “Do you want to borrow a t-shirt to sleep in? Or I can go and get your clothes from the bathroom?” She should have things here really. It’s been months since they’ve been doing this, but all she has is a toothbrush.
“Whichever you want,” she says. Really she doesn’t want anything to wear, she’d quite happily sleep with him naked, but they’ve never done that, it’s like they’re both too scared to take things any further.
He doesn’t want to leave her alone, that’s the thing. So he grabs a clean t-shirt from the chest of drawers and hands it over, turning away again as she starts to remove the towel.
“Mark?” she says, a hint of a amusement in her voice as she tugs on his t-shirt. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” He still isn’t looking at her, as if he’s afraid he might see something inappropriate.
“It’s safe to turn around now.”
He feels like an idiot, but he’d rather avoid the temptation, the disappointment because there’s no way she could want to have sex with him, kissing him is one thing, but sex is quite another.
She’s already crawling into bed when he turns around, goes to the other side of the bed and gets in beside her. The moment he is she’s there, head on his chest, reaching for, and pulling his arm across her.
“You sure you don’t mind me staying a while?” she asks, shuffling against him, trying to get comfortable.
“Cass…” he’d turn over to wrap his arms properly around her, but he likes this, having her so close, on top of him. “I couldn’t think of anything better.” He needs looking after, he isn’t made to be alone, he just can’t quite cope. He dips his head, kisses her hair, tightens his arm around her, as his fingers brush against her stomach over the fabric of his t-shirt.
Smiling she turns so she’s facing him, head still on his chest, because she likes listening to the beating of his heart. It’s comforting and steady enough to lull her to sleep. “Will you come with me to get my things?”
“Course I will. You should pack some things to leave here, you know? Or you could just stay. Move in properly.”
She thinks for a moment that she’s fallen asleep, because he couldn’t possibly be asking her that in reality, because she just isn’t that lucky. And she wants to move, to look him in the eye, but that requires movement, and she really doesn’t want to do that. “Is that what you want?” she asks, snuggling closer into the warmth of his body through his t-shirt.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
And she knows that’s true, why would he? He has to know all he has to do is call and she’d been there, although he never has to, because she shows up weekly at least, because all she wants is to be here with him,. Finally she moves, because she can’t not, she needs to see his face and she needs him to see hers. And she’s smiling, warm and genuine down at him. She touches his hair, runs her fingers through it. “I love you,” she says and she’s never meant it as much before.
He reaches up in turn, runs his finger through her hair. He can’t believe it, he just can’t, because she’s just too young, too lovely, too kind. “Don’t,” he says.
“But I do,” she assures him, turning her face towards his hand, kissing his palm. “You’re so special, so wonderful.” And she wants him so much all she can think about it taking off her t-shirt and his, of taking full advantage of being in bed with him for the first time ever.
“You make me better than I am,” he says, and it sounds ridiculous, like the kind of bullshit line you’d hear in a crap chick flick, but it’s true. He’s learnt his lesson by losing Liz. He won’t be that man again, not if he can possibly help it. And Cassie, Cassie listens to him, doesn’t make him feel like a failure, like she’s settling for second, third, forth best.
“I’m glad,” she says, and she leans in to kiss him, a proper real, genuine kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth and he can’t resist, he can’t stop himself from sliding his tongue into hers, from kissing her properly, like he used to kiss when he was young and carefree. They don’t kiss like this, it’s always just lips and hands, and it was enough, it was better than nothing, actually it was better than any number of things, because she’s always so tender, so soft and warm. But this, this is incredible. He feels like a teenager again, desperate and horny and he shouldn’t let himself get like his because it can’t possibly end how he wants it to, but her tongue’s in his mouth, her hands are in his hair, tugging and it means so much more than he wants it to. It was simple before, when they just shared a bed, when she’d kiss him goodnight then turn over and they’d sleep in each other’s arms, knowing they weren’t alone anymore. But now she’s moaning against his mouth, touching his unimpressive body like she wants to get below the fabric, wants to feel his skin and it’s impossible not to react to that.
“Sleep with me,” she says as she pulls back. “Look at me.” And it’s funny, because she doesn’t like being looked at, she’d rather have darkness and anonymity, but not with him, never with him. She sits up, pulls off the t-shirt, tosses it aside and locks her eyes on his, challenging him to look away, to do what he always does.
“You don’t want to do this,” he says, because how can she possibly want to? He’s old and flabby and apparently not very good at this and she’s…god she’s breathtaking, she really is.
She smiles, touches his chest, scrunches the fabric of his t-shirt up in her hand. “Yes, I do,” she tells him, and she wants him to believe her so badly, because it’s all she wants, all she can think about sometimes- when she’s in bed with him, or in bed alone. It’s the thought that stops her weeping over Chris sometimes, the only thing that actually manages to make her smile, but it’s so, so frustrating. “More than anything.”
“Cassie.” He can’t bear it - the thought of disappointing her, which he will and then she’ll leave, because why the hell would she stay?
“You don’t have to,” she says. “If you don’t want;”
“Cass,” he sits up, because this is not a conversation to be had lying down. “It’s all I want. You’re all I want. Fuck!.” He presses his lips together, unsure of what to do with his hands now she’s naked. He wants to touch her, so much he has to ball his hands up into fists just to keep them in check, because if he does that if isn’t sure he’ll be able to stop and he has to. He can’t let this happen, he just can’t.
“So why don’t you?” It’s so simple in her mind, yet so difficult to him and she doesn’t want to have to talk him into it because that’s just not right, and she’s not sure the tiny bit of self-esteem she has can take it.
“Because I can’t, Cass, I can’t.”
Slowly she nods, tears in her eyes and she removes herself from him, leans over the bed to find his t-shirt and pull it back on, curls in on herself on the other side of the bed and tries not to cry.
“Cass.”
She doesn’t respond, her eyes are closed too tightly and she doesn’t trust her voice not to betray how utterly ruined she is, how stupid and lost she feels.
“Cass,” he says again, moving closer to her, because he can’t let her be alone, can’t not wrap his arms around her no matter how awkward things are. He just needs her to know he’s there. Gently he rocks her against him, kisses her hair, tries to soothe her.
“I’ll wait,” she says, pressing herself against him, desperate for any contact she can get from him even now. “As long as you want.”
And he’s sure it won’t take long, not if she’s living here with him, which is the plan now and he knows he won’t be able to resist her forever, he doesn’t even want to, he just feels like he should for as long as possible.