"The last thing I wanna do is push you away," Vega said, her voice shaking with emotion. This was what she meant, what she did. "An' you've done nothin' wrong, Arlo, it's me. I don't know or care what other people mean when they say it's me, not you. I mean, it's me, not you." She needed him to hear that, she said. She smiled a little sheepishly when he asked what she meant, though. "I mean last night, when we didn't even sleep in the same space, I thought that was a permanent decision. You'd decided it was a risk not worth takin'," With a shrug, she tried to sound like it wasn't an enormously big deal to her and she failed miserably in that. "An if that's what you want, we'll work it out, but you're an ass for makin' that decision."
When he talked about how her jumping to put her family straight made him feel, though, Vega shook her head. "If it were what you wanted, I'd marry you to trial an' we can go down there an' do it enough times that we have a dozen fat babies," apparently with alphabetically ordered names, now she thought about it. "I don't want that, not right now but I'd do it an' I'd be happy as long as it was us. I'd go anywhere an' do anythin' as us. It'd jus' be another adventure, wouldn't it?" She looked at him and said, utterly seriously. "I mean it completely, but I might hyperventilate from sayin' it."
And then, they got to the crux of it for her and Vega listened to him. Standing there, tears on her cheeks and with more than one gulping hiccup, she stood and listened. What made her think this? "I was broken, Arlo. By the death forged rose, an' I died an' my legs. An' I needed to talk about it, when you said to me that of course my legs would heal, I needed to ask you but what if they don't." But she hadn't asked, and she hadn't because she didn't want to pressure him. Breathing in, she lifted her head to meet his eyes, her own a swirling mass of colours. "When I thump you an' mean it, it's cos I'm hurtin' an' I need you to comfort me. Don't you know that?" She was sure she'd told him, she said with a slight, brief smile; she knew she'd done no such thing. "An' when I try an' pimp you out, Arlo?" There was a serious point to be made here, for all that it was a very unlikely situation to happen. "It's cos I need you to tell me that there is only me, always me, for you an' that we're gonna make it work even if I never walk again. Don't agree to move down the hall when I want you to work out how to get back in to bed." She was contrary and difficult, she knew. Living with her was hard and she didn't make it easy. She knew that, she told him. But trying to be someone else was making them both miserable.
When he kissed her, when he told her that there was no one to fight, Vega pulled herself against him and kissed him back. Forehead against his, she whispered to him. "I think half the time, Arlo, I'm jus' fightin' myself." Touching her nose to his she added, "but you're a dweeb, you know that?"
When he talked about how her jumping to put her family straight made him feel, though, Vega shook her head. "If it were what you wanted, I'd marry you to trial an' we can go down there an' do it enough times that we have a dozen fat babies," apparently with alphabetically ordered names, now she thought about it. "I don't want that, not right now but I'd do it an' I'd be happy as long as it was us. I'd go anywhere an' do anythin' as us. It'd jus' be another adventure, wouldn't it?" She looked at him and said, utterly seriously. "I mean it completely, but I might hyperventilate from sayin' it."
And then, they got to the crux of it for her and Vega listened to him. Standing there, tears on her cheeks and with more than one gulping hiccup, she stood and listened. What made her think this? "I was broken, Arlo. By the death forged rose, an' I died an' my legs. An' I needed to talk about it, when you said to me that of course my legs would heal, I needed to ask you but what if they don't." But she hadn't asked, and she hadn't because she didn't want to pressure him. Breathing in, she lifted her head to meet his eyes, her own a swirling mass of colours. "When I thump you an' mean it, it's cos I'm hurtin' an' I need you to comfort me. Don't you know that?" She was sure she'd told him, she said with a slight, brief smile; she knew she'd done no such thing. "An' when I try an' pimp you out, Arlo?" There was a serious point to be made here, for all that it was a very unlikely situation to happen. "It's cos I need you to tell me that there is only me, always me, for you an' that we're gonna make it work even if I never walk again. Don't agree to move down the hall when I want you to work out how to get back in to bed." She was contrary and difficult, she knew. Living with her was hard and she didn't make it easy. She knew that, she told him. But trying to be someone else was making them both miserable.
When he kissed her, when he told her that there was no one to fight, Vega pulled herself against him and kissed him back. Forehead against his, she whispered to him. "I think half the time, Arlo, I'm jus' fightin' myself." Touching her nose to his she added, "but you're a dweeb, you know that?"
