trashchildren | For Joan

She smiles faintly at that, taking the soap. "The feeling is mutual," she says softly.

She pauses though, soap in hand, looking up at him.

"Are we okay?" she asks, searching his eyes.

The question takes him a little aback. "Yeah, of course," he answers, and it's automatic but it's also genuine.

He doesn't really want to get into it now, but he also recognizes that it's worrying her more to leave it unresolved. He sighs a bit, rubbing at his chin, considering how to explain himself.

"I know you were looking into for my sake," he says finally. "And it wasn't just that, it was.." He pauses, considering. "I don't know, I was upset at having to confront it so unexpectedly, I guess. I got defensive. But.. Yeah, we're okay. It's gonna take a lot more than that to make us be not okay, I promise."

She listens and nods, looking relieved yet still sad, about her mother, sure, but also about the hurt she caused him.

"I'm glad. And I get it. I wish I had handled it better, and I'm sorry. When you want to...if you want to...I would really like for you to tell me about what happened. But until then I won't bring it up. Okay?"

He nods and sighs, also relieved that they've cleared the air a little bit at least. He also very much appreciates the ability to bring it up in his own time - but now knowing it won't be a bit dramatic revelation when he finally does.

Which is not gonna be anytime very soon. They've got enough parental death to deal with for the moment.

"I love you," he says, and leans down to kiss her again.

"I love you," she murmurs back, and kisses him, cupping his cheek, pressing her body warmly against his. She's seeking sensation, something to distract, to numb, to lose herself in if only just for a moment.

He wraps his arms around her gladly, stroking at her shoulder blades with his fingertips, just holding her close. He kisses her back, chaste but affectionate, enjoying the closeness.

She had hoped to be perhaps a little less chaste, but the situation is strange and complicated and she doesn't have the energy to insist. So she holds onto him in return, eyes closed.

She would have to insist pretty hard - if he thought it would help, he might go along with even if this isn't exactly the most arousing circumstances ever. But as it is, he thinks she'd probably just regret it later - he certainly would, if he was in that situation.

So instead he just holds onto her, giving that moment of quiet and safety and affection.

Joan is familiar with the common link between grief and sex, where the bereaved seeks out sexual contact to fill a void and numb the pain of loss, so she wouldn't regret it or feel ashamed. It's perhaps an echo of her "exercise partners" in that the focus is on a need instead of the partner. But Ted isn't an exercise partner, and she won't push when he's pretty clearly uncomfortable with the idea. So she just holds onto him, taking in his affection with gratitude.

He stands there holding her for quite a while, before he gently pulls back to smile at her. "We're turning into raisins," he points out. Not that he minds terribly, but they're gonna run out of hot water eventually, and they can't hide in here forever, unfortunately.

She gives him a faint, sad smile in return. They can't stay here forever. Sooner or later Joan has to start doing what needs to be done. So she gives him one more kiss, then pulls away to carefully soap up before handing the soap to Ted.

Ted soaps himself up too - somewhat carelessly, since the point of this was never to get clean, as he already showered last night.

He steps out of the shower first, just so he can grab a towel and hand it to her when she gets out herself.

Joan accepts the towel and dries herself off before wrapping the towel around herself and getting out of the shower.

"I don't have clothes here," she comments as they go back to the bedroom. "Maybe you..."

She stops as she sees an outfit laid out on the bed for it. It's one of her comfier ones too, with a loose, soft shirt and leggings.

Ted of course just brings the clothes he was already wearing, since he's only been wearing them a few hours. He was thinking the same thing, but then of course Sherlock has thought of everything, as usually.

He smiles when he sees it and nods a bit. "Gotta tell you, I love that man," he comments appreciatively.

"Me too," Joan responds softly. It's not the first time Sherlock has laid out clothing for her, of course, but in those previous instances it was usually because he wanted her to get ready in a hurry so they could go chasing after the latest lead in the case. This...this is Sherlock caring for her from afar, helping her unasked and then leaving her be. It's incredibly touching, and very Sherlock.

She dresses slowly. Her body feels much better after the shower, the hot water having soothed her muscles, but there's still an ache, a heaviness, that will probably be with her for some time.

Ted dresses quickly, which is usual for him, but he's a little extra spurred on by wanting to help Joan. Or at least be available to help. He doesn't want to coddle her either, since he knows she hates that. He just wants to be her safety net.

"You should eat something," he points out, since it wouldn't surprise her if she didn't eat that much last night while working, and she's barely taken two bites today.

She appreciates both him being there and him not coddling her. She manages to dress by herself, even if it takes her a little longer than usual. Then she sits down at the edge of the bed and looks up at him.

"I know," she says softly. "I think I might be able to stomach a few potato chips and some water."

He picks up the bag of chips from the nightstand and opens it, handing it to her, then sits down next to her. He reaches over to grab the bottled water as well, taking a sip himself, then just holding it her for when she wants it, and loosely putting an arm around her back. Just being present.

She leans into him, grateful for his presence, his warmth, his support. His love.

She eats the chips slowly. The saltiness is soothing, and the carbohydrates are gentle on her stomach. She takes the bottle from him a few times, taking a couple sips each time before handing it back. She manages to finish the baggie of chips and the bottle of water. She hands the bag to him, then leans her head against his shoulder with a sigh.

Ted sets aside the empty bag and bottle, and just rests against her, grateful she got something in her at least. It doesn't need to be incredibly healthy as long as there's something in there to keep her going right now.

He rubs gently at her arm and kisses the top of her head. "How are you feeling?" he asks softly.

"Okay," she responds quietly. She knows he's aware of what she means. She's not okay overall. She's sad and tired and aching, emotionally wounded. But physically speaking, she's okay for the moment.

"I should call my dad," she says, her head still on Ted's shoulder.

"Do you want to be alone, or do you want me to sit with you?" he asks gently, reaching over to take her hand, stroking it softly with his thumb.

"I'd like you to stay," she answers, curling her fingers around his hand. It's going to be difficult to talk to her dad, and she wants his support.

"I'm here for as long as you need me," he promises, squeezing her hand gently. Given the grief they're both going through, a conversation like that can sometimes go in unexpected directions too. He definitely prefers staying with her, just in case something happens.

"Thank you." Joan squeezes his hand back, just a little, then reaches for the phone that Sherlock left on the nightstand. She looks at it for a long moment, long enough that Ted might think she's stuck again. But then she turns on the phone, brings up her dad's number and hits the call button, raising the phone up to her ear.

The phone rings four times before a weary voice answers.

"Hey Joanie."

Joan smiles faintly, sadly.

"Hi dad. You doing okay?"

"All things considered?"

She breathes a small, quiet laugh that's just a hair away from a sob. "Yeah. Hey...I was wondering if you've made arrangements. I need to book my flight."

"Right...right...um. Wednesday. Oren and I decided on Wednesday."

"Okay. That's good to know. I'll let you know my plans once I make them."

"Is Sherlock coming with you?"

"Yes. And Ted."

"Ted...oh, that man you've been seeing in London."

She glances at Ted. "Yes. I told you about Ted. We're living together."

"You're not living with Sherlock anymore?"

"I am. Sort of. It's complicated."

"Ted is the one keeping you in London, though."

"Dad..."

"I'm just saying. It would have been nice to have you here. Oren and I would have appreciated it. I know your mom would have appreciated it."

Joan closes her eyes and bows her head. "I'll call when I know my plans."

"All right. Love you, Joanie."

"Love you, dad."

She hangs up, puts the phone aside, and hides her face in her hands.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject