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 Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 11:43 am
The schedule for working as a firefighter was always changing, and Chris sometimes found himself away from home for a couple weeks, to being only on-call. It really just depended on the needs of the city — if something happened, he might be working long hours, but in the quiet times, he might be allowed to go home.
Tonight he was allowed to go home early. They had just added a few new recruits to the team and instead of working out the rest of the week, going home to be with his family was like dream come true. He would still be on call, of course, but that was a small price for helping people.
It was night, after dinner by now, and certainly after Lilah had been put to bed. Whether his mother and Paris would be still awake would depend on how exhausted they were. Living in the city wasn’t easy, especially when trying to keep up appearances and avoid suspicion.
He slipped quietly through the front door and locked it behind him. None of the lights were on in the living room, and over the stove light was on in the kitchen. Slightly disappointed that he missed everyone before they went to bed, Chris made his way to the room he shared with Paris. The bedside table lamp was on, but Paris was nowhere to be seen. A small amount of panic began to well up as he looked around for her, before hearing the soft sound of music coming from the bathroom.
With his nerves calmed only slightly, Chris made his way to the bathroom, gently pushing the door open to peek inside.
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 12:11 pm
Five years had brought a world of changes to Destiny City—indeed, it had affected her entire family—but nothing short of her own death could come between Paris and a relaxing bath. (That this would likely be the case one day was not lost to her, but she purposefully chose not to dwell on it any more than she needed to.)
Unaware of Chris's return home, Paris sat in a tub full of rose-scented bubbles up to her shoulders; she had one leg bent at the knee, which peaked up through the water. Music played from a radio on the bathroom counter. Paris hummed along to the waltz from Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty and ignored the pangs that ravaged her heart at the reminder that she'd never reached her dream of dancing the part of Aurora. She had her short hair piled up on the top of her head, though many strands slipped free, framing her face in frizzy curls or sticking to her neck in dampened streaks. In her hands she held a recent issue of some celebrity gossip rag, and on the side of the tub sat a glass of red wine.
She didn't notice the door open beneath the sound of the music, and only caught motion when she turned to remind herself where she'd last placed her wine glass when her first grab for it left her empty-handed.
Her heart gave a start and she tensed to suddenly find that she was no longer alone, but the shock left her almost as quick as it came once Chris's face came into view.
“Jesus, you scared the s**t out of me!” Paris said. She'd nearly sent her wine glass toppling to the floor. She brought her empty hand to her chest as if she meant to still the rapid beating of her heart. “What's wrong? What are you doing home? Didn't you call beforehand?”
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 12:32 pm
Chris winced as Paris was obviously startled, feeling guilty for making her think someone was sneaking into their house. “Sorry, sorry,” he quickly apologized, having not even thought about calling until Paris mentioned it. “I didn’t know if you were asleep or not. They let some of us off early, instead of staying at the station the rest of the week. I’m still on call…” he mumbled needlessly, pushing the door open a bit more so he could make his way into the bathroom.
“Everything okay here?” he wondered out loud, trying to keep his voice down lest he wake up his mother or Lilah. Everything seemed quiet, but that wasn’t always the case. They could never be too careful, and he was always cautious about speaking openly about anything that might be overheard. If their home had been bugged somehow, the last thing he wanted was for them to pay for any of his stupid mistakes.
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 12:41 pm
Paris settled down somewhat and even managed to look happy at the prospect of having Chris home for the night. The years had taught her to expect a lonely bed, first due to Chris's schedule in the major leagues and now to the more exhausting (and more dangerous) demands of a fireman. Any change to that solitary routine was welcome, however unexpected it may be.
“You mean aside from the usual?” she asked, straightening up a bit and dropping her magazine over the side of the tub. It obviously no longer interested her.
“'S fine as far as I can tell. Work's always the same. We had pot roast for dinner tonight. Did you want some? I can heat up some left-overs. Momma and Lilah are asleep,” she added needlessly.
She rose from the tub before he'd even had the chance to respond, grabbing a towel to wrap it around herself as she dripped water and suds onto the tile floor. Paris approached Chris before he could even make any headway in getting to the bathtub, throwing her arms around his neck without warning and hopping up to grab a welcoming kiss.
“You smell like smoke,” she observed against his mouth.
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2014 1:00 pm
It was definitely a relief to hear that things were pretty normal at home. At least as normal as things could be with everyone being in constant danger these days. He nodded quietly, watching as she made her way out of the bath and over to him before he could react. The kiss back was tame, unable to make it anything more with Paris’s comment about how he smelled.
“I always smell like smoke,” he mumbled against her mouth as well before pulling back to look her over. “You look exhausted…” he frowned, hoping she wasn’t using her own energy in exchange for helping people out. There were things they both did that were risky, but they also both knew the risks. They were both careless about their own lives and he felt hypocritical pointing out the things he worried about Paris doing.
His stomach growled in answer for him when Paris mentioned pot roast and leftovers. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your bath,” he said instead, his arms around her but ready to let her go if she tried pulling away. “I can wait if you want to finish,” he offered with a small shrug, just glad to be home.
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Posted: Thu Aug 07, 2014 8:32 am
“I'm already done,” Paris said. It wasn't an entirely accurate statement, but she couldn't imagine any better interruption than this. “It's fine. Shower. Get un-stinky. I'll heat up some dinner for you.”
She kissed him one more time before slipping away, loosening the towel and quickly drying herself off with it as she went. She pulled on a short nightgown before heading out of the room and trotting down the stairs, her mind already supplying her with new ways to wind down for the evening.
Paris drifted back up only a few minutes later with a plate full of pot roast fresh from the microwave. She placed it on one of the bedside tables for the time being, slinking back into the bathroom long enough to pull the drain on the tub and return her discarded magazine to its proper place.
“Food's ready,” she announced, and grabbed the glass of wine she'd left on the side of the tub.
For the moment she made no further attempt at conversation, which were frequently somewhat stilted between them these days if they didn't steer clear of certain subjects. Work was a common cause of arguments, so much so that it'd become something of a routine—one Paris didn't care to fall into that evening. Chris didn't like her taking risks and Paris didn't like Chris putting his life on the line in turn.
Of course, there was little else for them to do these days.
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Posted: Thu Aug 07, 2014 6:01 pm
Chris watched as Paris pulled away, wishing for simpler times, but did as he was instructed as she left, getting into the shower to wash whatever ash and dust remained from work. Showering at work was definitely not like showering at home. No matter what he did, he never felt like he could get completely clean.
He’d finished by the time she came back into the bathroom, turning off the water and pulling a towel off the rack to get dry. “Jeez, why bother?” he mumbled as he eyed Paris’s outfit… which wasn’t much. Granted, he wouldn’t expect her to walk around the house naked. But this was a close second. “Not that I’m complaining,” He added, only bothering with boxers in the summer heat.
“How’s Lilah?” he asked, running the towel over his head, only needing to do it once or twice seeing as how short it already was. The years and discipline of being a firefighter had at least taught him to pick up after himself — his clothes were already in the hamper instead of on the floor.
He felt old. He was only 26 but he felt old, and was always tired. But now that he was home, he couldn’t take his eyes off Paris, who shone like a light in the darkness. “You’re beautiful. And I love you. I don’t feel like I tell you that as often as I should,” he admitted sadly, hanging up the towel once he was done and following her back to the bedroom where she’d brought him up food.
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2014 7:18 am
“Why do you bother?” Paris countered, grabbing at the waistband of Chris's boxers and quickly releasing it to let it snap back into place.
She made no further comment on it, but the way she slunk out of the bathroom to lead the way toward bed and dinner was surely suggestive enough. She hopped up onto the bed and arranged herself becomingly, pulling her short hair free from the elastic that kept it back and ruffling a hand through it while sipping at her wine.
The compliments were not unwelcome. Though Chris had never been dishonest with them, Paris found that she had an easier time believing them these days, not because he said them any differently but because she felt differently about herself. Years before her self-esteem and sense of worth had taken a sharp nosedive. That had improved over the years. Though she hadn't developed the fuller figure she often admired in others, she nonetheless delighted in her slighter curves.
“Love you, too,” she said, and patted the spot on the bed next to her for Chris to join her. “You could tell me more if you weren't at the station all the time, but as it is I think you tell me plenty. Eat up. I can't imagine you eat well at work. You're so skinny.”
It was not an entirely accurate assessment. Paris had never known Chris to be what most people imagined as “skinny.” Certainly he'd put on a little more weight over the years, yet Paris thought he could still use a little more to soften him up.
“Lilah's fine,” she continued. “I don't think she's looking forward to going back to school in a few weeks. And she misses you,” she said and eyed Chris meaningfully. “I miss you, too. And Momma. She worries about you, you know, even if she doesn't always show it.”
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