Fierce

Chapter 28

When Georgie opened the door for him that night, Lincoln was surprised by how relaxed she looked. Despite all their time together – and despite bribing her with sexual favours – she somehow managed to retain her complete aversion to cooking.  He'd expected her to be a sweaty mess – and he was a little disappointed when she wasn't. 

"Hi Georgie."

"Hi," she shuffled aside. "Dinner's ready, actually. And it's getting cold, so come on in."

He checked his watch in confusion. "I'm on time, aren't I?"

"Oh yes," she waved her hand airily. "I stuffed the timing, so I've been trying to keep things warm for the last 40 minutes." He guffawed at her, and Georgie glared at him. "Do you have to be so obnoxious?"

"Sorry," he snickered. 

"You are not."

He followed her into the dining room, and saw a very orange looking table. Georgie went red, and suddenly became a bit shy. "Um. Sit down."

The more he looked at the table, the more confused he was. "What's for dinner George?" he asked. 

"Um. Lots of yummy things."

"...Like?"

She huffed, the redness travelling down her neck and beneath her blouse. "It's pumpkin soup, er, from a can... because I burned the pumpkin burgers we were supposed to be having, and there's some pumpkin bread – burnt also, unfortunately – with spiced pumpkin pie for desert," she coughed. "Yeah."

His lip twitched; it was surprisingly sentimental, and very sweet. "I love it."

She sat down with a smile, and gestured for him to start eating. 

And he tried, he really did. 

After a while of stoically munching through the dry bread, he glanced at Georgie – who wasn't eating either, but was glaring at her barely-touched plate. Thankfully, it wasn't long before George said, "Oh god stop. Stop eating."

He put down his fork. "Let's make some pasta?" 

"I will," she leapt up. "You sit."

He followed her into the kitchen anyway, and leaned against the bench. "It was great George."

She filled a pot with water, her back to him. "It was inedible."

"You could've tried something a little less complicated you know," he teased. 

"I got stuck on wanting to do this – it was a train-wreck from the beginning. I'm sorry."

"It was great," he said again, and she scoffed. "Serious. Next time, we'll make it together though, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "You just like being bossy. Yes chef no chef anything for you chef."

He smirked at her. "Call me that again."

"Yes chef," she said softly. He said nothing, but Georgie felt the weight of his stare as he regarded her in silence. She tried to ignore it as best as she could, and continued to potter around to clear all the pumpkin from the table. "Lincoln, I should also tell you, um, in the interest of full disclosure..." she trailed off with a shaky breath.

He stood up straight."What is it?" 

"Erm sorry, sorry. Um, I want you to know that I'm seeing a psychologist." The longer he was silent, the more unbearable it became for her. 

"I don't really know what to say," he finally offered. 

"Well– that's alright. I just wanted to tell you, really."

"George, you're okay as you are, you know... I hope you're not doing it because you think I think there's something wrong with you– sure I was mad but you're—"

"No, of course not. I just need to wrap my head around this... part of me." Her shoulders hunched over. "I – for whatever reason, I wasn't, or didn't... or couldn't? ... whatever, point is, I held myself back – and maybe it's normal, but it's in my nature to want to figure this out, and I need to try and sort through this, because I want to do better for the both of us. For you."

"C'mere," he said finally, reaching his hand out to draw her into his chest. 

Georgie sighed. She shut her eyes and tried to memorise the feeling of his arms holding her against him. Strong and warm and safe. She breathed him in, and wound her arms around him in return. 

"You scare me too, you know," he muttered into her hair. "You do, George. I don't think you've ever stopped to consider it, but you scare the living shit out of me and I l– and for the record: I choose this – eyes wide open, I want you."

At that moment, it struck her hard: the beautiful fragility of what they were doing. This trust, this honesty... was something she hoped she would never take for granted. He was handing his heart to her – exposing himself – and she would take care of it. She would. 

She felt so deeply, overwhelmingly lucky, that she felt a few tears leak out of her traitorous eyes. "Damnit," she mumbled. "Ugh I'm so dehydrated lately. Sorry."

His chuckle vibrated through her. "No – cry away pumpkin." He licked them off her cheek and she giggled. "Cry away."

"I love you," she whispered. "You don't have to say anything, and I don't know if love is always enough... but I choose you too. Eyes wide open."

He just held her tighter and kissed her temple. "We're no longer in a stairwell."

"No," she said into his chest with a smile. "We're not."

But neither of them made a move – they stood there, holding each other, content. 

"Gorgeous George, there isn't a right way to do this. Let's just see what happens yeah?"

"Sounds perfect to me."

*

After the pasta was cooked and prepared lovingly (by George alone), they ended up laying in her bed: skin to skin. Her back was pressed against his chest as they lay glued together; neither of them had gone near sex again, and neither of them minded in the slightest. For now, it was intimate enough. Besides, with bellies full of the best comfort food in the world, there wasn't a whole lot more either of them felt like doing. 

"Georgiana," he murmured.

"Mmm?" she kissed their entwined hands, which were cuddled into her chest. 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. Seeing a psychologist. Tanie has. I think it's brave you told me – you didn't have to."

"I wanted to though."

"And I appreciate it. But did you hear me? There's nothing wrong with you." He tucked her tighter into his body.

 She kissed their hands again. 

After a long, peaceful silence – just as they were both on the warm cusp of unconsciousness – he said, "I love you too," and she had enough energy in her mellow body to draw his hands to her lips once more, before they both succumbed to sleep.