SUMMARY: The morning after, she just has to hear his voice.
POSTED: 29 Jul 2008
CATEGORY: REAL PERSON FANFICTION
WARNINGS: This is a product of my fevered imagination. I don’t claim that any of this is true, therefore it is RPF.
FICPIC CREDIT: N/A
1) I wrote this last August or September and posted to my LJ but was reminded that I’d never posted it here. So I am doing that now.
2) If some of the wording and word choices are familiar it’s because I was inspired by the song Lips of an Angel by Hinder.
She tries four times before she dials all seven digits of his number, her finger over the ‘end’ button.
It rings and she wonders why she’s doing this, making things harder, but she wants to….hear his voice. Connect with him. Especially after last night, the dancing and the kiss staying on her mind, robbing her of sleep.
It’s almost like a dream she had, the feel of his hands on her back and his mouth on hers. There’s a thin thread of pain, right in tandem with her heart beating that only the sound of his voice seems to be able to assuage.
But the phone keeps ringing and she moves to hang up, fighting off the quick, painful disappointment.
Then the phone picks up and she realizes she’s on the line with him, her stomach plunging.
His voice sounds like he’s been licking ashtrays all night and she winces for the hangover he must be feeling.
“Hey.” She smiles, keeping her voice down.
There’s a pause, and then he sighs.
“Chari.” He says and all of her doubts fade into the background as she smiles into the phone, stupid glad to hear him call her that. Ridiculously, her eyes fill up, the tears running over. “Honey, this isn’t a good time. Ingrid’s asleep in the next room.”
She nods as though he can see her, fingers plucking at the hem of her robe.
“I know. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
He sighs again and she can imagine him leaning against a wall, forehead pressing the plaster. Her palm rubs along her leg, anxious, scared he’ll reject her, even more scared that he’ll ask her to meet him.
“Baby, are you crying?” He asks, hearing her sniffle. “Is everything okay?”
“Please don’t call me that, don’t – don’t make it harder.” She gets up and takes the phone with her into the bedroom, aware that Damien will be home with breakfast any minute.
“Is he home? Can you talk?”
She sits on her bed and holds the phone as though it were him, her best and only connection with him outside of work.
“I’m okay. He’s out getting some bagels.” She pauses. “I couldn’t stop thinking about last night, about when you kissed me. David.” The yearning in her body is strong enough to catch her by surprise, and his name comes out like it was drawn by force, the pain like a second skin. She’s falling in love and she can’t stop the tide. He’s married, and she has someone who loves her, and she can’t stop herself from wrecking it all.
Silence greets her confession and she’s afraid he’s trying to find the words to draw back, put some distance between them, but again he sighs.
“Did you dream about me?” He asks. She imagines him laying back down in bed and stretching out his long body, shoulders taking up all the space.
But of course he’s not.
Ingrid’s in their bed.
“Yes.” She whispers. “All night.”
He groans quietly and there’s a noise like something hitting a wall.
“I dreamt about you too, baby.” He confesses and she presses the phone closer to her ear, thirsty for his words the way a plant needs sunlight. “The way you say my name, the way you smile. You have a mouth like an angel.”
She blushes as she soaks up his love, wondering why they couldn’t have met six months earlier than they did, when she was single and David hadn’t committed quite so much of himself to Ingrid.
She hears him swallow.
“I have to go. Ingrid will be up soon.” He sounds regretful. She can hold onto that much until she sees him on set Monday morning. She has to pretend he’s nothing more than her co-worker there, but at least she’ll be able to see him, watch him smile as looks at her. “You make everything so much harder, Chari.” He says as a goodbye.
That makes the tears come harder and she whispers her good bye, hearing the click of a severed connection through her sigh.
She puts the receiver on the cradle and goes into the bathroom for a cold compress.