Don't Panic

Participants:

Bowen.jpg Cheusia.jpg

Date: 10/20/10
Location: EW: Lower Cavern
Synopsis: Bowen and Cheusia enjoy a lazy little morning sleeping in together and get some "air cleared" regarding the direction of their relationship.
Rating: PG-18/R for lots of adult stuff
Logger: Bowen


Let it never be said that Bowen does not subscribe to the theory of necessity being the mother of invention. Over the past couple of sevens, the little area surrounding the pushed-together pair of cots that Bowen and Cheusia have been using has undergone a slight transformation. The presses and strongboxes are still present, of course, but a leather mat the size of both cots together has been laid under the mattresses across both frames, which have been secured by the legs, and now provides slightly better support for both of them. No one has to worry about falling through the crack in the middle of the night. In addition, two wooden dressing screens have been situated around the cots to allow for some bit of privacy. While they aren’t big enough to wrap around the little area in complete seclusion on their own, they provide some manner to stretch a rope between them and the wall that fabric can be rested over for a make-shift curtain. Sound and light still travels across and through, however, so to say they are completely cut off from the rest of the weyr peons who are forced into dorm-like living with them would be inaccurate, but at this point in the weyr’s development it’s likely that the new couple are not alone and a number of folks have found little ways to create some bit of privacy under the conditions.

And so it is with pre-dawn that some of the drudges and kitchen staff begin to wake up and get ready for their day, making little noises here and there that might draw the notice of others, or stir some from slumber who do not yet need to get up. Bowen, however, sleeps straight through it, settled in quite happily with one arm protectively around Che’s waist. As it is summer, the man merely sleeps in a pair of loose fitting well-breathing breeches, and no shirt, and the sheet and blankets are liable to be all tangled up in the poor man’s feet if not taken by Che, herself. He breathes easily and rhythmically in his sleep. If he is the type who snores, he’s apparently breathing easily enough right now to not do it.

Cheusia has taken up the blankets and sheets… And oddly enough she has made herself into a makeshift little cocoon despite the summer heat. Though one should note that clothing was abandoned sometime during the night (she sleep walks, somewhat). With Bowen's arm over her, she is pressed up right against him, though not wrapped around him due to the blankets and sheet. There's an occasional sigh that is blown out before she snuggles in closer. The active caverns are completely ignored. It is her day off and she intends on sleeping away most of the morning.

No doubt some of the need to sleep in this morning was due to a late night, at least if Bowen had anything to say about it. Despite the rather ‘nestlike’ and ‘domesticated’ feel to their little area, Bowen seems quite comfortable in it with Che. He may be more or less terrified of marriage and having a family, and terrified of women in general with perhaps the exception of Che right now, but the man doesn’t seem all that terrified of domestication and commitment in this general, non-documented, sense. Which really wouldn’t be all that surprising considering the ‘steady’ kind of guy he is, except his history with women and marriage and family hasn’t been the greatest. So it is little surprise that as pre-dawn activity turns into dawn activity beyond their little borders and barriers here, Bo continues to sleep uninterrupted. If there is tanning work to be done, it’s apparently something that can (or should) wait until Rukbat is a little higher in the sky, for the man is disinclined to wake up and get ready for his day just yet. In fact, as Che snuggles in a little closer to him in her sleep, he does in kind, rolling a little more on his side and burying his face in her hair as his thick arm wraps more tightly and securely about her. Spooning her like this, this man has little to fear of any embarrassment with what would normally be the more typical male reaction to the morning or worry over any possibility of poking her by accident. It is, instead, quite the tender scene with him wrapping his arm closer around her in their sleep, and his breath softly moving bits of her hair. Her nightly sleepwalking rituals have been adjusted to easily enough, as well, and accepted as simply being a part of her and who she is, though he obviously is quick to keep her from harm as she moves about in the middle of the night doing whatever she is inclined to do, which includes disrobing, apparently, before managing to get her back into bed, unless she does it herself. Assuming she does not awaken on her own as the dawn crowd begin their day and depart, and the night crew returns from their shifts to sleep during the day, Bowen will continue to sleep with her, that is until mid-morning when most of the lower caverns’ dorm area population is either gone or asleep, a loud crack sounds from one of the wooden screens, causing Bowen – in a rare flash of speed – to sit up and scramble out of bed and through the nearest curtain.

Cheusia does not wake, not until Bowen is jumping up. It isn't even the crack that wakes her, either. She's sitting up quickly, grey eyes still quite unfocused. "Shit. What the hell?" Even her expression is a visible one of confusion. It doesn't take her too long to unravel herself from her blankets and pull on her nightgown once more all while trying to properly wake up her brain.

In some distant part of this huge cavern that’s been broken up into sections, childlike laughter spills forth, echoing with the acoustics here, and then fading off into the distance as Bowen returns through the curtains, rubbing the heel of his hand against one eye and sinking back into the bed with a grunt, “J’st a cupula lil’uns.” He yawns, eyes remaining closed and motions her back to the bed with him, “S’fine.” If he seems disappointed that she’s gotten dressed again, he doesn’t show it. He settles back on his back, eyes closed, but the rhythm of his breathing is too quick to suggest he’s already fallen back to sleep. He’s just working on calming himself down for now, the adrenaline rush to defend himself and Che from presumed attack is snapping back like an ill-used rubber band.

Cheusia blinks as Bowen returns, "nn." She shrugs and slowly scoots back over to the tanner and moving to slip an arm over him. Her lips press gently to his chest before grey eyes close as she begins to relax and slip back into lazy mode. "Mm. Really hoping to get a room… Don't have to put up with rude kids in the morning. People need to raise 'em better…"

As she climbs back into bed with him and moves up against him, Bowen slips that arm nearest her around her shoulder and rests it on her back. She kisses his chest and his lips tug up into a smile of contentment and some of his breathing begins to slow back to normal. His hand on her back strokes affectionately. “Mm,” he grunts in return, softly murmuring, “Reckon ya will, an’ sooner ruth’r then lat’r. No one wants t’risk pissin’ off th’ Healer Hall with Threadfall injuries a’comin.” The tanners, however, who cares? Especially the non-crafter ones. His other hand reaches up to rest across her arm as he takes deeper breath, starting to wake up, but losing the rapid heartrate and breathing now. “Rude kids,” he repeats in a similar tone, “Reckon they ain’t seen much in th’ way o’raisin’ ‘t’all.” Though he’s not the sort to be unnecessarily critical, “Weyr nannies prolly have their hands full an’ then some. Holder kids’r diff’rent.” Well, at least from what he saw in Southern, that is. His hand on her arm now strokes to the same rhythm as the hand on her back.

Cheusia lets out a soft sigh, pressing her face partially against his chest before breathing in deep. "Mm. Hope so… Goin' to kick their butts…" Really, it's the sleep talking. Though she is starting to wake, slowly stretching only her legs. "Nn. If I had kids… They wouldn't act like that. Sleep is good and you don't go messing with people when they sleep." But it is perfectly fine at any other time, apparently. "Nannies suck… Hated the Hold…" She shifts, only to press herself closer into him. "Going to eat redfruit today."

Bowen smiles again at his fierce little Healer woman kicking butts and taking names, and in no particular order, though his eyes remained closed as he listens to her quietly. His hands go still as she talks of her having kids, or if she did, rather, but the poor tanner kind of obsesses a little and dwells. While his eyes remain closed, the last bits and pieces of her statements earn a lifting of his eyebrows in muted expression of either surprise or confusion or both. “Mm,” this is what he starts with. It’s a sort of placeholder as he contemplates the rest of his reply, taking extra long to do so. Finally, he squeezes her in a light hug with the one arm around her shoulder and murmurs softly, “Reckon y’will make a fine muth’r one day, Che.” He’s earnest, but there is some regret in his tone for what it likely means as the ultimate termination of their relationship. Fostering kids is always possible, but right now, given the hour and the manner he woke up, he’s not exactly thinking down that line. “Redfruit?” he asks softly in delay. And he’s back to stroking her back and arm tenderly.

Cheusia doesn't notice the change at the mention of kids, not because she's being heartless, but because she's still rather tired. And not piecing it all together. That, and she still doesn't think he's broken. The squeeze is returned and she chuckles softly, "the kids wouldn't agree with you… But, if you say so…" She shifts and peeks at him with one eye. "I feel like eating redfruit today… How about you?"

Bowen smiles a little at the sound of her chuckle, always seeming to like the sound of her giggling or chuckling or laughing or in some way showing mirth. Slow to respond as usual, she finishes both comments before he replies, so he replies to the second one first, “Mmm. Reckon some redfruit would be j’st th’ thing.” He punctuates it with a slight nod, not seeing her peeking at him with one eye since he still has both eyes closed and is lying on his back. He adds a moment later, “An’ I say so.” Pause, and then a smirk, “So long as ya don’ unwittin’ly let th’ father name any of ‘em aft’r famous race runners ‘r huntin’ canines.” Now he lifts his arms up over his head a moment to stretch and yawn before snuggling back up with her, only for his stomach to growl embarrassingly. Must be the talk of the redfruit.

Cheusia grins wide, even if he can't really see it. Both eyes open as she shifts, just a bit to get slightly over him. "I'll believe you, since you say so." She laughs and then shakes her head. "Nah. I doubt their father would do that… And if he did, they wouldn't hate me for that." She leans in to press a gentle kiss to his lips as his stomach growls, holding back her giggle.

There comes a soft, satisfied rumble of laughter, but it is more for her laughter than for her comments. Finally, sensing her moving to be more over him, Bowen opens those blue eyes of his to stare up at her, some of his mirth subsiding at her talk of ‘their father’ and trying not to feel a little kicked in the chest for it. But that fades a good bit when she leans in to press a kiss to his lips and he returns it, wrapping both arms around her and drawing her more down on top of him. He smiles against the kiss for her restrained giggle, and then opens his mouth against hers, slowly deepening the kiss.

Cheusia's grey eyes searches his blue ones, but not saying a thing to the look that fills them. If only because she's occupied with kissing him. She shifts so that she's comfortably on top of him, pressing more firmly into the kiss and parting her lips. Though she'll push further, her tongue coming to tease along his lips.

A grunt of a moan comes from within Bowen as her tongue teases his lips and his own tongue needs little further invitation to slip out and alongside hers albeit slowly, occupying both mouths at once. His hands grip her back a little harder. He’d have something witty to say along the lines of ‘screw the redfruit, let’s eat in’, but he’s still sleepy and quite frankly would prefer to kiss her than talk to her. Who wouldn’t? Those hands on her back slide down to her hips where he starts to slowly gather the end of her nightgown in his hands, inch by gloriously blessed inch, while his heartrate and breathing kicks up much more rapidly.

Cheusia lets out a very throaty moan as his tongue slips out to join hers. She pushes into him just a bit more, desperate to get as close as possible. When his hands slide down to her hips, she breaks away from the kiss to press her lips against his neck and then trailing slowly to his ear.

His kiss turns slowly more hungry, powerful and possessive as his tongue strokes in and out of her rhythmically, swirling around her own tongue as his hands finish gathering the end of her gown and sliiiiiiide it slowly up her sides to her arms, urging it over her head to be tossed on the mattress beside him even if it means momentarily breaking the kiss, unless, of course, she stops him. Bowen turns his head to the side as she kisses his neck and toward his ear, his breathing forcing his chest to rise and fall beneath her raggedly, “Ah, Che,” he murmurs softly.

Cheusia lets out another moan as the kiss grows hungry and she grows easily submissive, allowing him to completely dominate should he wish to. She allows the gown to go over her head, even assisting by shifting to get her arms out. The kisses along his neck grow hungry until she's latching gently onto his earlobe and nibbling there, teasing before she pulls back. "I only want you." Is whispered softly into his ear before gentle nibbling continues.

Bowen moans again, slightly muffled by the pillow since he has his head turned for her kissing along his neck and now, nibbling his ear, he exhales a soft groan, wanting to take her right then and there with every ounce of his body but the part that actually is required for such deeds. “Jays,” he murmurs, searching for breath and a response that isn’t, you know, stupid and a mood-killer. So, while his rational mind is busily sifting through some proposals of appropriate commentary, his less than rational mind is sending signals to his hands which move from her sides to her breasts, massaging slowly while his thumbs tease her nipples, and finally he turns his head back and rasps into her own ear, “M’all yers, Che,” in response. It could have been worse, really. A lot worse. And then he trails kisses along her cheek and chin in a line toward her lips, seeking to claim them once again.

… . . sometime later … . .

Soon after Bowen has made certain Cheusia is well satisfied on their shared cots, he quickly and discreetly wipes his mouth and hands off on an edge of the sheet and then crawls up her form to her face and gives her a slow, tender, loving kiss before settling in behind her, holding her close against his still warm skin, basking in her afterglow such as it may be, or perhaps simply be his imagination, whichever the case.

Cheusia's return of the kiss is quite lazy, though still very loving. There's no protest when he pulls away and settles behind her. She only lets out a content sigh and snuggles in close, grey eyes closing as she remains completely and utterly relaxed. "Bo…"

The tanner stifles a bit of a yawn, but it still may be detected as Bowen grunts a reply to his name, “Mm.” It could be just an acknowledgement that he heard her, or it could be that he’s giving her leave to continue if she had something more to say, indicating that she has his undivided attention. His hand slowly strokes her middle where his arm is draped and he holds her close in against him, made closer as she snuggles up without any objection from him, of course.

Cheusia tilts her head back to peek at him, just a little. She only smiles before closing her eyes and snugging in. "Are you okay with this…?"

Missing her smile as his eyes were closed, and thinking her question is for their comfort of the moment, Bo blinks his eyes opened a little and grunts again in vague affirmative, “Mm-hmm.” Pause, “Why? Y’ain’t? Are ya cold?” Then he slowly curls up into a sitting position, leaving her warmth albeit reluctantly, and grabs at the tangle of sheets and blankets, pulling them both back up more across her than him since she was the one naked and more liable to be cold or feel exposed than he is right now. He is covered enough, however, as he settles back in behind her and slides that arm across her middle once more before slowly trailing kisses along her shoulder.

"Nooo. It's not that…" Che chuckles softly and shifts to watch him pull up the blankets. She pulls them in before settling into him once more. She shivers at the kisses on her shoulders. "Are you okay with just.. Pleasuring me all the time?"

The kisses to her shoulder slows and Bowen cracks open those blue eyes to regard her studiously before he stops altogether. There’s a flicker of pain in his eyes as he settles back to the cot mattress on his back, one hand resting across his bared middle in a casual manner while the other hand moves brush knuckles on the skin of her shoulder and then sift through her hair if she allows it, “Ya mean …” he exhales a long breath, “do I wish I wasn’t broken? Sure.” He lowers his other hand and slides it under his pillow behind his head. Despite the unpleasant conversation topic, he’s not gotten up and started getting dressed and feeling kicked and getting out of there. There’s a plus. “Whut fella wouldn’t?” Maybe a tanner who is terrified of ruining something really good by getting the woman he loves knocked up? He eyes her, tension filling his frame, but his expression is carefully schooled stoic, “Do ya not like it? Am I … doin’ sumpthin’ wrong? All ya gotta do is tell me, Che, j’st how ya wannit. We promised t’be honest. I can take it, yanno, if yer not likin’ how I do it. J’st need ta learn how ya like it an’ I’ll fix it.” He’s pretty honest there. While it would probably kill what ego he had begun to build up for himself since being with Che, he genuinely sees how a large part of him not being able to satisfy his wife was because she never told him what she needed, what she wanted, so he’s willing to put up with a little bit of criticism as long as it’s constructive and he learns how to make it right. The alternative, of Che going to another man for sating her needs, is just … too much. No telling what Bo might do.

Cheusia tilts her head as his fingers trail through her hair, "everything that is broken can be fixed…" She murmurs, shifting to sit up and to trail her fingers along his cheeks. "No, it's not like that, Bo… I'm happy… I just wish I could… Make you feel good, too. That's all." Leaning in, she presses her forehead to his. "You do everything wonderfully and I feel selfish."

Oh what a dilemma for Bowen. On the one hand, finding happiness and satisfaction of his own to be able to please and satisfy her, and on the other hand, wanting to fix the fact that she doesn’t feel as good about it, and wants to make him feel that way, too. After a very long pause, he tilts his head up to her face where she rests her head against his, and kisses her lightly, “M’sorry, Che. I wish … I knew … howta make it better fer ya …” awkwardly stated because, well, it’s an awkward subject to be sure. He closes his eyes then and sinks a little more into the pillow and mattress freeing both hands to wrap around her and hold her close against him, sighing softly, “I love you, Che,” and that’s a ‘you’ and not a ‘ya’ there, so it’s not casually stated, taking the time to enunciate properly.

Cheusia is quite oblivious to the dilemma, focusing all of her attention on him. Her fingers trail gently along his cheek before she returns the kiss gently. "It's okay, Bo… Take your time…" Because she doesn't want to push, but she is definitely letting him know that she doesn't believe that he is broken. At all. Her arms tighten around him, just a little though his confession is met with silence for a long moment. As she shift once more to better see his face. "I love you.." Though it comes out as a soft whisper before she hides her face in his neck.

By all rights, Bowen should be elated at their shared sentiment there, and even more excited over her belief in him that he’s not broken, but the man looks more like he’d rather throw up, even getting slightly pale and his hands that hold her start to feel a little clammy. There’s such a tightness in his chest that his breathing gets a little more labored to the point where he’s actually wheezing some and his heart rate speeds up a little, blood seeming to suddenly pound in his ears from the pressure making it even harder for him to hear her. If it weren’t for the fact that he is only twenty three, one could imagine he’s having a bit of a heart attack. But it’s not nearly that bad medically speaking. Still, it can’t really be all that endearing to tell the man you love him and he start having symptoms of a panic attack. Despite how it looks, it’s actually for a completely different reason. This, gentlemen, is one of the wonderful ways your body can get back at you when you internalize everything and not express your “true” feelings. The dummy. Just let him pass out. He’ll be okay. Serves him right, really.

Cheusia is pulling away once that wheezing begins, giving him a little look. She shifts again, checking him over quietly and ohso subtly taking his temperature. "Bowen… C'mon. Sit up. Take some deep breaths and calm down. It's okay." The blankets are slowly shed and she moves to help him up so that he can breathe. And calm down. "I'll get you something to drink, okay?" At least she isn't freaking out after the whole thing. Emotional confession followed by the man she loves going into a panic attack? It's a good thing she's not one of those over emotional people or they'd be kind've screwed.

Bowen isn’t about to deny the woman, a Healer, from telling him what to do here. He’s never experienced a panic attack so he’s not rightly sure what the hell is wrong with him. He remains where he is as she checks him over, but when she tells him to sit up, he does so, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and somewhat instinctively bending a little forward to catch his breath. He doesn’t seem inclined to object to her getting him something to drink, though there is a little possessive glance for her nude body and an inward desire to remind her to get dressed first. Because … when you’re dying (as he’s not really sure he isn’t) and the only woman who can save you is naked, her getting dressed first is a priority, for sure. And then he remembers the waterskin he keeps with him for riding and motions to it hanging on one of the posts of the cot and then leans over to stretch and try to save her the trouble by trying to get it himself.

Cheusia watches him sit up and shifts to settle beside him. "Good." This is said to him bending forward and her hand moves to settle on his back, gently guiding him to lean down just a bit more. "Don't move, just focus on breathing." The skin is given a look and she leans over and easily takes it from the post. She holds onto it until he looks like he is breathing normally before she hands it over. "It's okay. You'll be fine… You're just panicking." Which is cute. And, reall, she's just letting him know he isn't dying.

When his breathing finally starts to get a little more under control and Che hands over the waterskin, Bowen takes it gingerly with a little arching of an eyebrow. He doesn’t speak, however, until he’s had that first sip of (now) luke-warm water, and manages to catch his breath. His skin is less pale and clammy now, and there’s no more blood rushing in his ears, but his heart rate isn’t quite back to normal. “Panickin’? Y’call that panickin’?” he’s quite simply incredulous, though he doesn’t yell. He’s not the yelling sort unless it’s something like he is yelling over some loud noise just to be heard. But he’s definitely incredulous. A manly man like him doesn’t panic, he reasons, not without good cause and he sees nothing to cause him to panic, “There ain’t no pride o’felines ‘ere circlin’ us, or Thread fallin’, or dragons lookin’ t’make us their lunch. There ain’t nuthin’ ‘ere t’panic o’er.” Just her and him there. That’s right. A light goes on in that head of his, perhaps suggesting that he’s not as slow as many people think and he sets the skin down on the other side of him to boldly try and take her into his arms and kiss her on her lips, rather fiercely if allowed, which isn’t exactly like him, but this is him trying to reassure her, and to some degree himself – he’s not panicking over them, or his feelings for her.

Cheusia watches him patiently, making sure that he doesn't somehow choke on the water. "Mhm. Panicking. It is when you suddenly can't breathe and blood rushes to our head…" She trails off and chuckles softly, giving his back a gentle rub. "It's okay, Bo…" She trails off and gives him a little smile at his statement that there is nothing to panic over, clearly noting otherwise. And a smile remains there, on her lips until he takes her into his arms and is kissing her. There's no protesting or fighting, only her arms wrapping around him as she submits to the kiss. She's more than happy to be reassured this way, no longer afraid that her response scared him to this point.

His kiss is one of hungry desire as his mouth claims hers, and Bowen leans back on the bed, his legs still off and feet planted on the floor, but he tries to take her with him, hands wrapped around her back until she settles however is most comfortable for her, and then his hand is stroking her soft skin up to the nearest breast, simply cupping it as he continues that kiss, mouth opened and tongue penetrating somewhat vigorously, at least for him. “Che,” he manages roughly in a breather between kisses, “I do love you.”

Cheusia lets out a soft sound of pleasure for the kiss, moving along as he leans back and settling herself into a comfortable position above him. Her arms come to very slightly brace herself, but mostly relying upon him. More sounds of pleasure slip out as his tongue works, her fingers curling tightly into the abandoned sheets. The break has her breathing heavily, grey eyes opening to seek his. "I.. I love you too, Bo.. I know you don't say things unless you mean it. 'm not going to leave you, either…"

“Ah, Che,” Bowen moans softly with her words, and the hand at her hip grips a little more tightly, possessively as more of that wall around his heart crumbles. That other hand loosely rubs her breast once more as he resumes the kiss, deepening it but slowing it down at the same time, his thumb sliding over her nipple once, and then as his next comment comes to mind, he moves his hand, not really wanting to ‘sully it’ with sexual intimacy, and instead slides it down to her waist. With a deep intake of breath, he opens his eyes to look up into her face, “I promise t’do right by ya,” he says soberly, making his own vows to her that probably are more meaningful to him than whatever vows might be said in a real wedding, “Ya won’t want fer nuthin’. Won’t leave ya lest ya tell me t’go …” his voice trails off and his breathing slows, and he moves those hands to her face, cupping her cheeks gently, “An’ … if ya really wanna give me some powder ‘r tea whuts’pose t’make me work ‘gain, well, I’ll give it a shot, fer ya, if … that’ll make ya happy.” The last is said with a little bit of skepticism. It’s not that he doesn’t want to make her happy. He’s just afraid of disappointing her when it doesn’t work, because, in his mind, nothing will fix that particular problem (which in and of itself is its own part of the problem).

Cheusia lets out a soft mm as the kiss deepens, more so when his thumb slides over her nipple. A breath is drawn when he breaks away from the kiss and she meets his eyes with a smile forming on her lips. Her hands move, fingers toying with his hair and she nods to each of his words, smiling all the wider. "Not going to tell you to go…" She promises, leaning into one of his hands. "Nah, Bo… I'm not going to make you take anything unless you want to… As much as I want to make you happy… I'm sure I can find other ways. So if you're wanting to… We'll give it a try. If not, we won't worry about it."

Bowen turns a little as her fingers toy with his hair and he kisses her wrist lightly before returning his attention to her, smiling softly before letting one of his thumbs slide slightly across her cheekbone, “But ya do make me happy, Che. Th’ happiest man in alla Pern,” just not, you know, orgasmic-ly so. But it’s been so long, perhaps Bowen has just forgotten what he’s missing. He takes another deep breath and lowers his hands to rest on her thighs, stroking them affectionately as he continues to look up at her, “It ain’t that I don’t wanna,” he says, and on a conscious level, that’s very true, “I j’st don’t wanna disappoint ya any more than I already am. Che …” he begins faintly, his adam’s apple moving as he swallows hard before saying, “I been like this fer turns. This ain’t sumpthin’ new.” Obviously if he knocked Darla up, he hasn’t been this way forever, but he thinks it’s been long enough that if the problem was to work itself out of his system it would have done so by now.

Cheusia smiles as he kisses her wrist, watching him and that smile grows more fond. "I'm glad…" She sighs softly, leaning in to rest her forehead against his for a moment. "You're not disappointing me. I promise that you're not, so don't think that you are." She pauses, considering and then offering. "It'll still work out. You can get fixed… Even if it's been Turns… There's just something that we're not seeing… And one day, it'll solve itself. Because.. I don't want to push you. Or nag you… Or try to force you to get better." She shifts, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. "Lets just enjoy what we have and worry later."

“Ahh, Che,” Bowen says again, softly sighing as she rests her forehead to his and reassures him that he’s not letting her down. He moves his hands to wrap his arms around her and hold her close against him as she kisses his temple and finally he nods, taking a deep, cleansing breath and feeling something inside him sort of knot up even more, though hell if he understood it, or his own feelings for that matter. “Enjoy now. Worry lat’r,” Bowen agrees, and to make his understanding of that sentiment clear, he tries to roll her over and kiss her hotly, and hopefully, with a little more time, they both enjoy each other all over again. So much for the tanner getting any work done today, but he’s not complaining.


Closing Credits Theme Music: Josh Turner - "Your Man"


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