Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was early September in Grand Haven, Michigan, and Fall was starting to softly crawl down from the sky’s lap and onto the Earth, the trees’ manes lighting up in the lazy afternoon light like a thousand tiny newborn stars, and the Masters’ lake house lay quiet amidst the birches and the blue ashes, unaware of the turmoil bubbling up inside its walls.
Gini rested her head against the thick pattern of the straw chair she was sitting in, the warm late-summer glow washing over her body.
She still wasn't sure about all this, but as golden sunlight soaked through her skin and the distant laughs of her kids echoed in the clear air, she felt at peace with the world and herself, for the first time in what felt like ages.
When Libby invited her to the Masters' lakehouse for the holidays, she'd been stunned, unable to think of a decent answer for a couple of seconds, before managing something about it being an occasion for her and Bill to spend some time alone and with their children.
“It's much more pleasant to be around Bill, when you're around.” That's what Libby said.
It hadn't been the first time Gini wondered if Libby knew or at least suspected something, but for the very first time since her.. atypical relationship with Bill had started, Virginia Johnson felt an icy shiver running down her spine as she forced herself to smile back at Libby Masters. Bill's wife. The co-owner of the roof currently above her head, the sun bathed yard her kids were playing in and the chair she was placidly sprawled on.
A sharp pang of guilt clawed at the walls of her stomach and her temples throbbed, the words she said to Bill the night they resumed their active participation in the study reverberating inside her skull.
Three days before, as she drove behind the Masters in her blue Ford towards Michigan, she made a promise to herself: she was not to even think about doing anything with Bill during their stay there. Well, no need to take vows though, she had, then, immediately frowned, since he himself would probably be offended even at the suggestion of such possibility.. What the hell, she should have been outraged too! They were work colleagues.
Work.
She rolled the word back and forth over her tongue, the word she so frequently recurred to when describing her involvement with Bill. It suddenly felt fake, fickle, somehow, like she was a shiny, white lab coat and that word a smudge of dirt on it. Or was she the smudge? Shaking the thought off, Gini felt like an acid patch of glue had been laid on the roof of her mouth. She swallowed.
If someone asked her now, anyways, she would be more than happy to say she kept her promise. But then again, she knew damn well it would be a blatant, pathetic lie.
With her eyes closed and her kids far off amongst the trees, her thoughts naturally drifted towards all the little things she never got to see of Bill during the working hours: the way he looked in the morning when he'd just woke up, not shaved yet, the slight but undeniable gleam in his eyes as he gazed intently into the water when they all took a stroll by the lake, the way the wind rustled his loose, black curls and how sunlight danced between them.
Gini groaned to herself, a pained frown twisting her features. She desperately wanted to regain control over her thoughts, over her whole damn body, before this situation drove her crazy to the point she would no longer be able to respond of her actions. Not that she would let herself do anything that stupid.. no. She had her rules, with Bill. She always did. Okay, so she broke most of them so far, yes, but this time a lot of things were drastically different. This time everything was different.. and, she realized with a nervous little laugh, that was precisely why it was so hard to control her thoughts, her movements.
Three days. Three days had passed, four more were ahead.
Shit.
Oh, this was gonna be so hard.
She sighed and slammed her head back into the seat. What use was it to torture herself like this, anyway? She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? No. Not a thing. Her forehead relaxed, and all the lines on her face were replaced by the still, calm concentration that took over Gini when she was about to perform: as she always did when she felt things were starting to feel a little too much to handle, she wiped her mind clean of every single thought, closed her eyes and began to sing.

Bill mindlessly stomped on a dead leaf, its crunching beneath his sole sounding something between a stern reprimand and a laugh of scorn.
Three days. For three long days he had to keep himself from storming off of the dinner table and into the night, screaming his lungs out along with the tightness clutching at his chest every time he met Virginia’s gaze, his wife’s presence like a looming shadow on the corner of his eye.
It was his son’s birthday when Libby told him she invited Virginia over to their lake house, for the holidays. The kids could play together and maybe the two of them (as in him and Virginia, of course) could bring some work along, so he wouldn’t be so grumpy and restless as always; these were the exact words Libby used.
Ah yes, how could he not have thought about it? Bringing some work along. Work. Jesus Christ.
Later that evening, Bill had tried to calm himself down: maybe Virginia wouldn’t have accepted. Yes, it was very unlikely that she would’ve actually thought this whole thing was a good idea.. She would surely feel uncomfortable in such a situation, wouldn’t she? It wasn’t really worth it, panicking over something that was so obviously bound to NOT happen.. Right?
“Wrong.” The word vibrated behind Bill’s eyes and ran straight down his arms to his hands, closed in a white-knuckle grip around the wheel of his car as he drove towards Lake Michigan, his research assistant’s car quietly following, like some kind of a shy, devoted, deep blue puppy. He had then shot a heated look to his rearview mirror, and he could see her mouth moving, spelling out muted words he couldn’t work out, probably singing along to the radio, her eyes fixed on the road ahead.
They eventually reached Grand Haven, and as Bill pulled over in his driveway he took a deep breath, telling himself everything was going to be just fine, as long as he managed to avoid awkward early morning meetings outside their rooms, all rumpled night gowns and hair still messy from the pillows, or late night bumping into each other in the kitchen, her voice drowsy and eyes still half lidded and sleepy and- no, actually, maybe that was not a good road to go down on.
Bill’s eyes went glassy for a second as he kept wandering around the shore, breathing in the sycamores’ earthy scent and their hushed whisper, a surprisingly chilly wind running its fingers down his spine. His thoughts raced back to the first night they spent there, to his tossing and turning, his struggle with the sheets until he eventually fell into a restless sleep, tainted with hazy, gloomy dreams. He was glad to open his eyes and find that morning had finally come, when a sudden, fiery twinge flared up low in his belly, and he sat up, looking down: he couldn’t tell what got his heart pumping and his diaphragm heaving like two pistons, what he actually could tell was that his morning erection looked like it would need a couple of minutes to cool down. Maybe a couple of days.
Goddamnit.
He kicked at a big, round pebble which landed splashing angrily in the water, and Bill tried to focus on the dull blotch of pain spreading upward from his toes, wishing he could just shove a foot at his thoughts and drown them in the lake as easily: flashing memories of the first night he spent with Virginia after two very long years bloomed in the back of his head every time he closed his eyes, and his senses exploded with reminiscences of the smell and the taste of her.
For three days he had to fight his own brain off.
His pace sped up and Bill felt like a riot had just burst out inside of him: his legs were steaming, every single muscle pulling and pushing in protest as pangs of heat and lust coursed through his nerves and shook him like electricity, his fists automatically clenching along with his jaw and shoulders.

Too caught up in his own interior thunderstorm, Bill didn’t realize he made his way back to the house’s lawn, the chiming sound of kids’ laughter tearing right through the clouds roaring around his head. Baffled, he managed a smile as Virginia’s children waved at him and absently kept walking towards the patio, where the back door that led to the kitchen was, slowly moving amongst the trees, looking around as the last, golden rays of light warmed the withering Black Chokecherries, bright red leaves falling right in front of him. He abruptly stopped as a rich, languid voice flooded the space surrounding him, like an overflow of molten chocolate, pinning his feet to the ground like every leaf of grass had just turned into a tiny arm, clasping tight around his shoes.

“Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring,
My summer wine is really made from all these things,
Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time,
And I will give to you.. summer wine..”

Virginia sang loud and shameless, her head laid back and her heels on the wooden banister, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Her skirt hung loose just above her knees, hands resting in her lap as her fingers tapped along the rhythm of the song. Bill swallowed hard and he would have sworn he could feel the melody slide down his throat, dense like honey with the burning trace of alcohol, leaving him with a puddle of heat bubbling up in his stomach. She paused, and his lungs froze in empathy as he watched the tension ease away from the tendons in her neck.

“..Oooh.. summer wine..”

Virginia sighed the last words of the song, and Bill was shook out of his trance by something that sounded somewhere between the low, rumbling moan of a starving predator and the breathy huff of someone who’s seeing the Sistine Chapel for the first time; it took him some time to realize it had been his own voice.
All around him, the Black Chokecherries kept dropping their feathers in a crimson rain that strangely looked like a strip tease, leaves landing on the ground in a hushed murmur.

“Gini! Dinner’s almost ready!”
Both their heads turned towards the door, Gini’s eyelids snapping open and only a second later acknowledging Bill’s presence, her eyes going impossibly wide and her cheeks burning : they gawked at each other and blood buzzed in Bill’s ears, muting every possible word he could muster up to justify his standing there like an idiot who just took a brick to the head. Before either of them could break the bloated silence swelling up like a huge red balloon, Libby appeared at the door, stained apron tied behind her back.
“Come on guys, the table nee- Oh hi Bill, you’re back! Come on in and give me a hand, let’s not let our guests do all the work.”
She strolled back inside, but Gini’s gaze was already fixed on Bill’s face when he returned the stare, feeling like he just transformed into castle of cards: those two dark, surprised and slightly confused (embarassed?) eyes pierced right through him, threatening to make him crumble to the ground any moment, being the only thing that kept him upright at the same time.
Seconds later, Bill found himself moving towards the door as a sudden, wild wave of cold wind vigrously pushed him forward, as if Autumn was blowing straight into his ear trying to solve the puzzle inside his brain, stitching words and thoughts together as his pace got confident, purposeful: he mounted the three wooden steps and made his way to the small, creaky patio, but he was almost sure he could see the Matterhorn's approaching summit, painted on his retinae. And as the bellowing winds threw ice crystals on his chapped skin, he kept climbing:

“I- I didn't mean to..”
The mountain stayed silent and distand underneath his fingers, and Bill felt like he'd just walked in on a perfect, unique natural phenomenon, defiling it with human presence. It was only fair that a mountain would be so stoically offended by an ant's petty attempt at conquering something so out of its reach.
Bill looked down and he was gracelessly tossed back into reality: no Matterhorn in sight, but Virginia’s eyes were the perfect picture of the cold, inky rocks that lay there, hounded and bit by the snow and an appallingly close sky.
“The song you were singing-”
The wind howled softly around them, a gentle sheepgod nudging Bill's unsteady words out.
“It was beautiful. You-”
The wound-up droning of his blood was making Bill's head spin and he forced his gaze up to her face, bumping into a pair of shiny, raven dots that looked more like graphite now, supple and pliant where black granite had been cruel and adamant: she was smiling. He was suddenly alone on top of the Matterhorn, the world far down and away, the Alps all around were quietly talking to him, and he wasn't cold anymore.
“..You were- you are- very good.”

Okay so maybe it wasn't exactly Hamlet.
But as Bill walked past the doorframe he could picture himslef on the very summit of his personal mountain, a tiny flag planted at his feet and he was walking almost 5000 meters above his kitchen floor with a shameless bubble of warmth blooming in his chest when he abruptly halted in the middle of the room, a small but firm, undeniable tug somewhere inside his pants chucking him right back into reality once again.
Goddamnit.

Chapter Text

The day had been clear, a warm glow washing everything in gold, but just as the six of them sat down at the dinner table, the gentle autumn breeze had started to turn into an angry howl, and Gini felt like she could hear it push and bang on the window panes as she tried not to look in Bill’s direction, however weird that would appear.

She chewed thoughtfully on a chunk of roast, her hands shaking ever so slightly: she’d been replaying Bill’s words in her head since their encounter, that afternoon, not really sure how she felt about them. Well no, that actually wasn’t true. Gini knew with absolute certainty what was going on inside her chest, her lungs tight, blood rushing to her cheeks if she just dared looking into his eyes for more than a split second. But what was all this fuss for? It wasn’t like Bill hadn’t seen her in.. slightly more intimate situations, let’s put it like that. He’d seen and heard and  touched parts of her that were far more hidden and private than.. just singing, right? ‘Cause that’s what she was doing. Just singing.

It was a really strange feeling, but she suddenly found that it was extremely hard to lie to herself, there in Grand Haven. Like that afternoon, it just seemed useless denying what was so clear and strong to her heart.  She sat across from Bill, with her kids to her sides, while Libby was so close to him, so natural, and their arms brushed together with such ease..

The green eyed monster buried deep inside her guts bared its teeth and bit down so hard Gini had to close her eyes for a second not to give herself away. It became abruptly so painfully obvious, the weight of Bill’s presence inside her conscience: all the time she spent fighting it, storing her feelings away, because god forbid she ever admit to herself she was human and she wasn’t actually that good at separating love from sex, like she so confidently claimed a long time ago.

She wasn’t just singing, no. That afternoon she was voicing what felt like a hurricane and a cat clawing at her sternum and being hugged by a cactus altogether. She was singing out the feeling of seeing Bill in the play she would never be a part of.. a play she actually liked. And it hurt. So yeah, she wasn’t just singing a random song while she waited for her dear friend to cook dinner and her colleague to come back from one of his brainy, contemplative, spiritual walks around the lake: she was pretty much fucking wailing.

She scowled as every molecule in her mouth started to taste like ash and copper, but she didn’t want to just run away like a heartbroken schoolgirl. She wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction. So she grabbed back the reins of her mind and slowly rose her gaze from her plate: one would expect doctor William Masters to sit with his back so straight it looked like it could crack any moment, but Gini noticed how he slightly slouched, his shoulders relaxed, but his chest still somehow managed to look wide and proud even having dinner in his lake house in bloody Michigan. She eyed his neck and every single cartilage ring moving in tune as he swallowed. She stared at his tongue swiping across his bottom lip, the faintest hint of teeth showing for a second. His jaw flexed and every muscle in his throat danced, his fingers quietly curled around the shiny shafts of knife and fork. Every little shift in Bill’s figure reminded Gini how well she knew him: not just the look in his eyes, almost like she could spell the thoughts going on behind his eyelids, but each and every bit of his body language was familiar and obvious to her. She bit back the smirk twisting her mouth as she put away those small gestures in the back of her brain, placing them near every other image she had of him, images Libby would never be able to see. Gini was the only one who could make him come apart, inch by painstaking inch, turn him into a blind mass of heat and fury and growls and lust. And nothing was going to change that.

Later, in her room, after tucking her children in and half an hour of knights, dragons and sword-carrying princesses, she lay wide awake in her bed, the now familiar scent of the sheets and pillows tainting her already messy thoughts. She tried shutting her mind off, tossing and turning on the mattress for a while, but her body spoke its mind very clearly about that.

So that was it: the final, shameful, physical admission had finally come. With a shaky sigh, she brought her hand down between her thighs and closed her eyes, a shiver running throughout all her body and goose bumps raising on her skin like a tide under a full moon. As her fingers curled inside herself, she didn’t feel any shame, and Bill’s name lingered on her lips, threatening to spill out so loud she would have waken up a corpse probably. She bit down hard on her cheek, but it was Bill’s collarbone her tongue craved, and her left hand furiously fisted in the sheets as a high pitched moan made it out of her throat.

For the fourth night in a row, Bill found himself staring at the darkness above him, wrapped in suffocating linens and uncomfortable thoughts that seem to weight a ton inside his skull. Acknowledging the fact that he wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon, he hastily got up from his bed and made it out of his and Libby’s room as quietly as possible, wandering around the house like he did the previous nights.

There was no denying his head was still a mess after that afternoon, he never would have thought such a.. small event could affect him like this: images of her bathed in sunlight, laid out on that straw chair with her eyes closed, the faint movements in her throat and the wind brushing her hair back on her forehead, like a lover’s touch. And then there was her voice, those sinful words uttered without a single care in the world, her tone so soft  and yet so catastrophically full of colours and heavy with cursed imagery and desire, like it held some kind of spark that made Bill’s stomach flutter and his hands itch with something he couldn’t really recognize. Or maybe he was very much aware of the sensations stirring through all his veins and he just couldn’t bring himself to face them, because that would mean three more days of veritable, palpable Hell on Earth. So he walked and walked and walked, fast, fuming with denial and struggle until he was so drained that his body and mind just gave in, letting him convince himself of whatever lie he may want to tell himself. But something happened that afternoon, and now there would never have been enough land on Earth to give his body what it needed to burn all that energy away.

So Bill speeds around his house like an over-charged battery, blood pumping hot in his neck and waves of that unnamed feeling crashing over him again and again.

He really would have liked to tell himself he didn’t walk up to her door on purpose, but as it turned out, truth seemed to creep through every crack, through every pore of reality, there in Grand Haven, so Bill felt no conflict whatsoever when he leaned his head into the cool surface of the door, chills running down his spine as a faint echo of rustling sheets crawled its way up his right ear, mixed to the feeling of cold wood hitting his skin. It lasted just a minute, maybe less, but it left Bill in something he reckoned being much worse than Hell itself: his whole being shook and he couldn’t bite back the whimper ruinously tumbling out of his mouth, knees quivering and yet all his muscles tensing up like electricity was coursing through him. His mind went blank as he furiously shot away from Gini’s room and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and turning back towards it, pressing his forehead against the hard surface before desperately shoving his pants down: he gripped his erection almost painfully hard and jerked it so fast his brain couldn’t properly catch up, tides of pleasure surging from the fresh wound of Gini’s moans muffled by the door of her room, splashing over Bill’s body like mercury and fire, flogging his nerves with heat, but she was calling his name, he heard it, so clear, loud and hoarse from that voice of silk and poison and Bill’s mouth fell open while air desperately tried to get to his aching lungs and his left fist slammed on the door just as his orgasm hit like a hammer, low at the base of his spine and spreading out like an eruption. He shot hard against the dark wood, panting and growling and finally collapsing to his knees as he tried to regain control of his body.

With his head still pulsing, pressed against the door, Bill opened his eyes, looking for something to tell himself, something to soothe and contain the catastrophe that threatened to break out if he dared think about what just happened: no thoughts were left between the walls of his skull.

He got to his feet, pulled his pants back up and wandered towards his room, his body quietly buzzing in the afterglow, heat still radiating from him. Tucking himself in, he felt like a 60W light bulb that had just been crossed by the energy of a thunderstorm, and his eyelids dropped like anvils while his mind was still at a disastrous loss of words.

Both Bill and Gini slid heavily towards unconsciousness with their bodies so tired and their heads so empty.. and just the vague, traitorous hint of heat pooling once again in both their groins a second before darkness swallowed them

 Goddamnit.

Chapter Text

Gini looked at the clock on the night stand by her bed.
6.48.
She shut her eyes again with a sigh, but her body stayed still, facing the ceiling in the darkness, thin rays of light coming through the shutters as dawn slowly crept along the late summer sky.
It was no use trying to fall asleep again, she knew it perfectly well, but as soon as she opened her eyes she got the clear feeling of having an anvil sitting quietly on her chest, keeping her from getting up.
If Gini was to be honest with herself, she never really slept great since she got there, and she was pretty sure it showed too (what HUGE bags she must have had under her eyes by now, Jesus), but that particular night had been.. rough, to put it gently.

The loud noise came from the bathroom, she was fairly sure about that, and it did just a minute after she was done getting herself off. She dismissed it as something randomly falling off, it could actually happen, she told herself, like a picture falling off the wall in the middle of the night. But then the house went perfectly still, and Gini lay restless in her bed, unable to shake the feeling that that noise was awefully similar to the sound of someone falling on their knees and a door being forcefully shut right after. It felt like a dam breaking inside her chest, and suddenly she couldn’t stay in her bed anymore. She shot up and pinned herself to the door of her room, gluing her ear to the cold wood, waiting for something to reveal someone’s presence. Soon enough, she heard the bathroom door opening again, and steps coming out of it, she figured. It was a careful sound, as if the person was trying to be quiet.. maybe it was Henry, Gini thought to herself, he always shuts the door too hard after all. But what if he heard her?! Well that would have been quite a fun way to introduce him to the “facts of life”, wouldn’t it? Just as Gini winced at the thought of it, she aligned her eye with the keyhole, you know, just to check if her son was alright, and as soon as she recognized the figure slowly making its way out of the bathroom, her whole body jerked, trying to get her back on her feet, causing the top of her head to slam against the doorknob on the way up.
As a wave of dull, ferocious pain spread downward from her head, Gini shoved a fist in her mouth and bit down on her knuckles to keep herself from screaming, grunting, from making any sort of noise or so help her god, she would have been heavenly screwed. And not in a nice way.
The pulsing sensation fogging her vision quickly subsided while her heart still pounded against her ribs, adrenaline racing through her nerves making all her senses stand on edge: the steps had stopped. Gini could practically feel Bill’s presence outside the door, just scant measurements away from her, with only the door keeping them from seeing the other: one walking back to his bedroom, eyes still wide with shock and knees bruised and aching, the other with her eyes shut tight and a hand rubbing at the spot where the doorknob collided with her skull trying to clonk her head open like a coconut.

Gini opened her eyes again, biting on her lip with the desire to hurt herself in some way for being so stupid, so full of teen-y, panic-y crap the night before, undoubtedly making things even more complicated between her and Bill. Wasn’t the atmosphere already tense enough? Couldn’t she have just gone back to bed like the mature adult she was supposed to be? Oh no, no she had to go full on middle-schooler-mode and make a complete fool of herself. Gini huffed out a bitter chuckle as she remembered how embarrassed she had felt after her colleague had caught her singing on the patio. Jesus, that sounded ridiculous right now.
She wondered how Bill was going to approach the situation. He really wasn’t the master of keeping it cool after something like this. Yeah, he was probably going to be so embarrassed he wouldn’t even be able to look her in the eye. Her pride swiftly kicked in, sweeping shame off as she convinced herself that she could be in charge, she could make this whole thing look like a trivial, meaningless accident.
Wait no, not even an accident. Just..
Yeah, no, she could totally do this.
She was in charge, she had control. Of course she did.
Gini sighed again and finally decided to get out of bed and run into the bathroom before.. anyone else could.

It could have been worse, really.
That’s what Bill thought to himself while he tried to chew on his breakfast without looking like he forgot how to be a normal human being.
The first time their gazes met that morning was when Virginia joined he and Libby in the dining room, eyes fixed on the floor and her skin looking still just a little wet with the morning light glowing right on it. Bill found himself feeling really proud for winning the urge to run away in the opposite direction or to just slam his head right through the pavement like an ostrich. He just waved her good morning, half of his face covered by the mug of coffee he was over-enthusiastically drinking from. After that, things seem to settle on a not too unbearable, unspoken agreement between them: as soon as they could manage to pretend nothing happened and that neither of them was aware of the.. situation, everything would be fine. At least sort of. What was yet to be convinced of this, was the rest of Bill’s body: he looked at her hands and his own started to shake, she passed him by and his shoulders tensed up together with the muscles and tendons all along his spine. He surprised himself wishing he could be invisible and quietly sitting in a corner, just watching her every movement without anyone catching him red handed.
Bill never felt so not in control in his whole life. She had managed to turn him into a useless pile of disconnected logs twice already in a ridiculously short period of time. And as much as he hated to admit it, she always seemed to be one step ahead of him, constantly throwing him off balance with the things she said and did and the way her lips moved when she talked, and how her brows would furrow right before she came up with something brilliant. She made things seem so effortless, even when things looked.. definitely not so. Even now, beside the almost constant look of nervousness and slight discomfort in her eyes, Bill felt like she could have just floated through the few remaining days of their vacation without flinching anytime they were less than a foot apart. Which of course he did not just do. He was Bill Masters, not some lovesick little fool. He spilled coffee because he totally intended to.
Oddly enough, he strongly wished his wife would never stop talking to Virginia about how good the new porcelain looked on the top shelf in the kitchen.

It was a clear morning, and never would have Gini thought it would have come to rain. Well, certainly not this much at least.
She was doing the dishes, just her, the sink, and the sound of running water, when she saw the clouds quickly coat the blue out of the window in front of her, rushing their way forward from far off in the distance, where the sky had already turned a deep shade of cobalt. The first, heavy drops started to pour down almost half an hour after Libby had left with the kids to go have a walk before lunch, to enjoy the sunlight and whatnot, so Tessa could stroll little Johnny around and Henry could tear his eyes away from his comics for a change and get some fresh air. She was grateful to be able to get some alone time, some quiet and silence to cool off and regain her balance after what happened the night before.. if only Bill would have gone too. Fortunately, he seemed to be just as eager as she was to be out of his work partner’s sight, so he muttered an excuse about being tired and not sleeping well and just really needing to take a nap before they all gathered up again for lunch.
Just a few minutes after the rain started, Gini heard the phone ring: it was Libby, saying she and the children were right in the middle of their walk when the storm broke down, so they ran to a nearby farm, and the owners had just asked them to stay until the rain didn’t calm down, which they didn’t see happening for a few hours at least, which meant staying for lunch and then maybe the kids could go visit the animals and then-
Gini kind of lost track of the conversation, sucked in a maelstrom of panic, nerves and something that weirdly felt like excitement. When she tugged her brain back on its track, she could hear Libby say they would certainly be back for dinner.
She hung up the phone and laid her hands flat on both sides of the shiny aluminum sink, her head hanging between her shoulders: drops of water smashed against the small leaves of the bushes outside, their dark berries shining and dripping, staring Gini in the eyes like they were trying to tell her something.

Bill lay awake on the queen size bed he shared with his wife, uselessly trying to talk himself into sleeping this nonsense off before it started seriously getting to him. When Libby said she would be gone with the kids until lunch, he felt his stomach fall to his bruised knees, his throat clenching as his eyes shot to Virginia before he could control them. She kept her gaze focused on nothing, staring intently somewhere towards the wall on the side of the room, her brows drawn together while she sipped from her cup. She had gulped, and then looked at him for just a split second before applauding Libby’s idea like she was a Nobel prize winner or something. He had to admit he lost control for a second, internally panicking about how was he supposed to face being alone in the house with her for something like two hours, but he promptly came around and locked himself in his bedroom with an adamant alibi to avoid any awkwardness. Or so he thought until he overheard the brief conversation Virginia just had on the phone with.. well, apparently his wife.

“Yeah.. yes, no, of course not. No, I mean, I just don’t want them to bother you so mu- really? Well in that case.. yes, yeah, Libby, no, you’re right, that’s perfectly fine by me. Yeah. See you at dinner then.”

Dinner.
Did she really say dinner.
Now, Bill would have had no problem whatsoever in just sitting quietly in his room, pretending to be sleeping for a couple of hours, but dinner was a totally different matter, given the fact that he had started feeling like he was about to implode if he didn’t do something about this huge pink elephant between the two of them soon enough. It wasn’t about how to avoid her anymore.. it was just a matter of mustering up whatever courage he could before diving in. God-seriously-damnit.

Chapter Text

What’s holding him back?
What’s the rock, the invisible barrier that’s pushing back against his body not to make him take those few extra steps into the next room, into the portion of universe where she’s now standing, stained white apron tied around her hips, shiny black hair tied behind her head, washing the dishes, like she has been doing for what feels like.. days? Hours? Who can tell anymore?
Bill’s head is light and filled with questions, smudged blotches of a speech he spent minutes and minutes gathering up inside his brain, but mostly it’s just images of her he’d been storing away during all the time they’d spent working together, side by side through every new discovery, through every little fight and argument, biker and petty power play and through every small step they took towards each other, little by little.
Oh, it’s been quite an adventure, walking beside you for all this time, Bill marvels with himself as he struggles to enter the kitchen as quietly as possible, so as not to startle her and thus be forced to face her. He feels like an old hunter, drained and hollowed by the chase, who’s finally caught up with his prey: he’s been following her traces around for so long.. and here he is, frightened like the first time, aching with the need to catch her, but terrified of whatever may happen then all the same.

The atmosphere shifts in the room, and Gini knows he’s standing behind her: she heard him walking down the stairs like she had heard the distant rumbling of storm clouds hurrying towards the cottage.. towards them. How ironical. She gives a small laugh in spite of herself at the thought, just to cut through the thick silence that’s stretching out between the two of them, broken only by the splashing sound of the rain falling outside and the running tap water inside. Bill probably takes it as a permission to go on, and he unhurriedly walks up to Virginia at the sink, where dirty dishes lay separated from clean -and still wet- ones: he looks around for a second, deliberately avoiding her figure, until his eyes settle on a dry cloth on the counter.
Gini watches him from the corner of her eye, both of them working side by side like a well oiled machine, every gesture silent and natural: synchronized, not mechanical. She wonders how many times they’d been seen like this, how many people had been watching them as they worked their magic together, in a way that would have been impossible without one or the other, even with all their corners and faults clashing together on the way to the goal. She wondered if he felt the electricity like she did right now, like she did every time something was going on between them but they were both too.. absurd to just make it right like two reasonable grown-ups.
Gini flashed him a quick look, the gray, gloomy glow of the sky casting a strange shadow over his face, making every single item in the room look like it was coming out of a dream.

Bill’s eyes trail down his colleague’s arms as she takes on a large, greasy pan: those are the hands that used to sign papers with his pens, back at Maternity; the hands that held one of his own through what felt like hell and an abyss opening inside of him, in his office, ages ago; the same hands that guided his length inside of her, the first time they ever.. participated together, and the hands that ran through his hair every time that followed. He felt like he was staring at the hands that guided him all along, the hands that picked him up when he was just a stray (if very ambitious) dog going around in circles, chasing his own, dream-filled tail, and put him on the right path, slapping him back into place whenever he strayed again.
He swallows around the lump in his throat and looks at her, waiting for his gaze to be returned. Gini’s frown stays stubbornly fixed on the task at hand in front of her, but Bill knows in his chest that he has no intention on running away from what he wants, this time.

“It’s awkward, isn’t it?”
“I-“ She hesitates for a second, but it’s just a moment, before she sighs and opens her mouth again. “Yeah. Yes, it’s a little awkward.”
She finally turns to look at him in the eye, pearly bubbles sliding down her wrists as she visibly tries to come up with something else to say, anything else not to fall back into that tense fog of stupid formality. And when her brain fails her, Bill can see the heartbreak floating in her eyes, the tiny, embarrassed flare of heat spiking her gaze with.. defeat?
He smiles at her: its small and tentative, but it warms his face and hers as well, like they both just acknowledged everything in the others mind, and Bill shivers internally at the realization of how well they know each other to be able to overcome an obstacle by just looking into each other’s eyes, dropping the mask for a moment.
She laughs again, but there’s no uneasiness in it this time.

“You know, you should sing more often. You really are very good, it’s a shame you’re wasting such a gift.”
“Copy that. It’ll definitely heat up the atmosphere the next time we have someone who can’t.. ‘do his job’ in the exam room.”
A dark cloud seems to pass through Bill’s face just as she’s done uttering the last word, and for a terrifying second Gini fears she said something wrong, something that will make this fragile equilibrium crumble down again, shutting him off for who knows how long once more. But, again, it’s just a moment before his features soften and he chuckles low and throaty, in a way that tells Gini he’s laughing with himself about something she’s not a part of, but the swell she feels in her chest is not curiosity or suspect, it’s the genuine relieve of seeing him laugh.
Silence falls again, feathery soft this time, pleasant. Gini looks outside the window and follows the bob of the shiny, dark berries on the bushes just in front of them.

“I always see you walking among those bushes..”
Bill stops mid-movement while dabbing at a glass and sets it down on the counter, taking a few steps away from the sink and directly behind Gini, as she goes on washing forks and knives, seemingly not aware of his position, but actually being almost painfully so.
“..I just- I always wondered what they were.”
He stopped again, but he’s definitely close, somewhere right behind her back, she knows it, she feels him in the pressure on her shoulders, in the hollow feeling in her stomach. What the hell was even going on?! Gini nervously scolds herself for feeling this excited, like she knows somehow that something is about to happen. It’s not a conscious knowledge, no: it’s something that’s sewn into her tissues, amidst the billions of cells that compose her.

“They’re, uh.. Black Chokecherries. They’re quite common around here.. and pretty much anywhere else, I guess. They grew on their own a couple of years ago, Libby said we should cut them off, but I liked them. They’re my favourite.”
“Are they? Why?”
She doesn’t turn to look at him. Bill stays silent and idly wonders how things are going to unfold from this very moment on. It’s funny how sometimes just one sentence can decide the course of future events.
“It’s their scientific name. I liked them before I found out, but then I looked them up and.. I guess it’s because of that.”
He breathes heavy and controlled, his heart pumping fast and all his senses standing on edge. He takes a small step closer to her back, fingers brushing lightly against the noose of the apron around her hips. He waits for the question pending on her lips, but Gini bites it back, wanting to let Bill close the last small gap between him and the goal in front of them both.
“Prunus Virginiana. That’s what they’re called.”

He feels the words leave his body and it maybe cliché, but it’s like a ton of other unspoken words and an unbearable weight has been lifted off his chest, his lungs filling like they never had before. He looks down at his shoes, the hand next to her waist lingering there like it’s waiting for another sign of “go ahead” from her.
Gini opens her mouth several times before she settles for a huffed scoff, somewhere between surprise and disbelief. But then she feels one of his fingers playing with the tie of the apron and her body screams and rises to his touch, and Gini gives in.
She turns her head towards him, not all the way, just enough for him to see the corner of her eye, her chin hidden against her shoulder and her gaze to the floor. But Bill knows she’s waiting for him, inviting him in, and his hands finally land on the dip of both her hips, forehead pressing against her temple, parted lips brushing her cheek.
She slides a hand up and around his neck, through the hair on his nape, the feeling so familiar it sends a shockwave of tingles down to her stomach, Bill’s body closing in when he pulls her pelvis closer to his, every layer of cloth teasing and scratching like a cat’s claws.
He strokes her sides and unties the apron, letting it fall between them and kicking it aside, a grin tugging at the corners of Gini’s lips as Bill turns her around and presses close again, one hand beside her ribs, flat on the counter and the other resting loosely at the base of her neck, stretching over her collar bone, just under the hem of her shirt. He looks down at her lips and his eyes are dark, half lidded and hooded but gleaming with the lazy smile that’s curving lips before he licks them and lets Gini kiss him, her fingers dragging down his scalp and brushing the sin just behind his right ear.
He savors the touch of her mouth for a moment before he leans in and slides his tongue against her, gliding slow and wet while he circles her waist with his free arm. He’s still smiling into the kiss and Gini can feel it, the smug but patient desire she feels radiating off of him making her ache for more, making her hook a leg behind one of his knees, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt.
She runs her hands on his chest and Bill huffs on her lips, like a bull with a red flag waving in front of him, and he grinds down on the thigh she pushed between his legs, the hot shape of his cock insistently pulsing to life.
Before she knows it, Gini is undoing his pants, breaking the kiss off to regain control of her breathing while he mouths at her neck, pulling her away from the sink so she can take her shirt off, his fingers fumbling at the zip of her slacks. She steps back and her back hits the edge of the kitchen table, low enough for her to sit on it with the aid of Bill’s hands, and still dusty with flour from the night before. They both laugh for a second at the tiny clod rising from the cool surface as Gini’s body comes landing on it, bare thighs spreading so Bill’s hips can settle there and pull her as close to him as possible, his pants sliding below his butt along with his underwear. Gini tugs him free and wraps a hand around the shaft, both of them panting on each other’s skin, a thin layer of sweat shining on their foreheads as she slowly teases the head with the pad of her thumb. Bill fights back the urge to screw his eyes shut and looks at her, chest heaving and stare dark with lust: Gini kisses him again, pulling on his under-shirt while she leans back on the shiny marble table, spreading her legs further and lifting her knees up, Bill’s body falling on top of her and his hardness weighing down on her sex, a hot line pressing on the damp fabric of her underwear.
He groans when he feels her nails dragging up his back, bunching up the undershirt around his shoulder blades and she’mapping his ribs and his stomach, her tongue drawing wet circles inside his mouth and his senses overwhelmed with her and the sound of the rain and the aching pleasure tugging at his balls.
He pushes his hips against hers, reveling in the breathy moans escaping her throat, making her arch up against him; he slides a hand up her body, palming her breasts and resting it where it lay before, loosely around her neck. As his hips buck up once more, she throws her head back, choking up on her breath and offering her throat to Bill, whose teeth drag along her jugular like he wants to tear the life out of her veins. He lifts his upper body off of hers to shove away his undershirt and tear off her underwear, diving down between her knees and flicking his tongue out to taste her. The impatient, almost pained moan that tumbles from deep down in her chest makes him smile against her skin, and he makes his way back up, planting an open mouthed kiss on her lips before placing his hand over hers around his cock, aligning it with her entrance, wet heat against possibly even wetter heat.
He slides in with the usual easiness, a thing that will never cease to amaze him as he watches her face twist with the gradual intrusion, her voice sending waves of icy flames up his legs and all along his spine and arms and back to his very core. He moans low and desperate, his eyebrows drawn together and mouth hanging open as he starts thrusting as slow as he can without going insane, refusing to give in to the boiling ache in his loins just yet.
Gini pulls him back down against her chest, his lips now brushing her ear and his moans filling her brain while she clenches and tightens around him, unable to hold her orgasm back anymore and crying out one last time, muffling her voice on his shoulder as a burning white fog shrouds her vision for god knows how long. He finally gives in too, his rhythm going frantic as he comes undone in her arms, muscle tensing all at once.

They lay panting like that, Bill on top of Gini and still inside of her, heir sweat mixing and the rain still pounding heavy and distant outside the window, the dark, shiny berries still bobbing up and down against its weight.
Gini could feel Bill’s heart starting to slow down, their breathing going back to normal, and he eventually pulled out, his hands holding him up on both sides of her, his head hanging between his shoulders and his eyes eventually lifting up to meet hers. She sat up and he leaned back to allow her, their faces so close he could feel breath on his swollen, still slightly wet lips.
She combed the hair above his ear like she did a long time before, at the Park Plaza, and looked into his eyes before he kissed her again, touching his mouth to hers and she tied her arms around his neck, burying her face into the crook where it met his shoulder, as they both breathed each other in silence Listening to the rumble of thunders rolling down on the earth somewhere in the distance, far away from the cottage, far away from them.