Participants:
| Scene Title | Furry Godfather |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Richelieu has magic. |
| Date | May 10, 2020 |
Raytech Corporate Housing: Richard's Bolthole Apartment
It sounded so easy at first. How hard could it be to just not touch anyone else?
As it turns out, harder than he’d assumed. Richard was starting to understand part of what had driven the longest-term holder of the Black so far over the edge. The lack of connection, of true human contact, was an emotional blow that he hadn’t expected.
That wasn’t even counting the pain of not being able to hold his own children anymore.
The door to the small apartment that he’d set aside for his personal use while he worked on learning how to better control the abilities that had taken refuge within him closed behind him, and he kicked off his shoes near the door. Gloves, next, tossed onto the coffee table with a grimace. Fingers flexing, glad to feel the air on them. The suit jacket was shrugged off, tossed on the back of the couch, and then the shirt beneath, leaving him in just an undershirt as he dropped face-down onto the upholstery with a heavy sigh.
The MAN had been avoiding him for a long time now, and he did not know why. While the VERY LARGE KITTENS were wonderful to play with, they were not the MAN, and the MEAN WOMAN FROM THE DESK did not take care of him properly and sometimes even fed him /dry/ food, as if she did not know that he preferred /wet/ food.
This was not a situation that he was happy with.
But he was a clever cat, and so he had slipped away from the MEAN WOMAN and into the MAN’s new den when the LADY WITH A CART stopped in to clean up, and hidden, and lain in wait. Now the MAN was back, and he would be reunited with him properly!
Slowly he crept up to the couch, the stealthy, clever hunter that he is, and leapt up to the back. And struck!
“MEOW.”
As the demanding feline noise sounded out in the room, Richard rolled over to look up with a confused expression— his eyes widening as he saw the reddish cat perched there upon the back of the couch. “No, Richelieu, wait—”
The cat leapt for his arms, not knowing there was anything to be afraid of.
—-
A text reached Elisabeth’s phone from Richard’s number: hey liz, can you come over when you have time?
As if she wouldn't make the time even if she didn't have it. It's not very long — he's only using the same apartment she moved out of to move into what is supposed to be their home. Knocking twice, Elisabeth pops the door open and pokes her head in. "Hey, handsome" she calls out just to let him know she's here. He kind of freaks out at the slightest hint that anyone will get too close.
Stepping further in, she closes the door behind her before coming past the entryway so she can see the whole main room of the apartment.
"Hey, love," Richard calls back; not immediately visible, he's in the kitchen. There's something off about his tone, though, some emotion that's hard to identify.
"So, uh— Richelieu got in somehow," his voice drifts back to the front. There's the soft thump of something being set down on the counter.
Elisabeth turns toward the kitchen, curiosity about his tone making her concerned. And then he says that and she halts for a second just before coming into sight. Her stomach flip flops and for a split second she wonders if he accidentally hurt the cat. He doesn't sound utterly destroyed … just odd. So she pulls in a slow breath and completes the last couple of steps into the kitchen area. "I'm sorry," she begins immediately. "Did you shut him in the bedroo—"
A can opener sits on the counter having done its work, a can of opened tuna in Richard's hand that he's feeding to the cat— who he's holding cradled to his chest, nestled happily into the crook of his arm with his head all but buried in that tin enjoying his treat.
Richard looks up, his eyes slightly puffy from where he's clearly been crying, and he smiles over at his wife. "I guess Ingrid was right," he admits quietly, "I just needed a cat."
One hand comes up to cover her mouth for a moment while the other rests on the door jamb. Elisabeth stares at the scene in front of her and has to fight the prickle of tears herself. The relief is overwhelming. It's just a small step, maybe, but it's forward progress. "Oh wow," she whispers, the hand on her mouth slipping around to rest on the side of her neck.
Blinking back the waterworks, for all the good that does — they're likely to get going any time now. His wife seems to have picked up a habit of tears — she shifts her gaze from the cat to the man and gives him a brilliant, if damp-edged, smile. "Look at you."
There is such naked relief in her expression, it's almost as painful as what he must be feeling. But she doesn't move closer to him. "Are you… are you okay?"
“Yeah. Yeah, I…” Richard shifts awkwardly, setting the can of tuna down on the counter and setting the cat down as well - Richelieu hopping from his arms with the motion and continuing to enjoy the fruits of his conquest (in his own feline mind, at least).
He hesitates a moment, looking at her, and then he steps over and reaches out for her with hands that are just a little shaky, “I’m okay.”
Her eyes remain on his face and Elisabeth goes still, letting him dictate the speed at which he's testing out his situation. She has absolute faith in him; it's his own control she knows he worries for. As he reaches for her, she pulls in a soft breath and seems to hold it for just a moment until he has actually placed his hand on her. Then she has to close her eyes — it takes everything she has to wait until he draws her toward him to actually let go of the door frame and melt into the touch.
"Thank god," she breathes out softly.
There’s hesitance there, uncertainty and worry, but when that ability coiled within him doesn’t flare up, doesn’t strike out— Richard’s arms wrap around her completely and pull her in fiercely against his chest, head turning to bury his face in her hair and just drink in the scent of her. Tears are moistening her hair as he holds her tight against him, and in her embrace she can feel him shaking slightly.
Lack of touch, of contact, is a terrible torture. He knows that now.
Only when she's pressed against from shoulders to knees does she finally let her own tears slip out. One hand cradles the back of his neck while the other just twines around him, holding him just as tightly as she's being held.
"I missed you," she whispers against his neck. Elisabeth hasn't been more than a hallway away, they haven't been avoiding one another. But being so close to him and yet unable to touch or hold hurt; they might as well have been miles apart. Her fingers stroke the nape of his neck while they both find comfort. They could stand like this for days, for all she cares. Her nose nuzzles into his throat so she can breathe him in as they hold each other.
Richard’s fingers slide through her hair, cradling her head close; his face turned into those locks, his other arm wrapped about her waist to keep her pulled in closely against him. He draws in a slow, ragged breath, then exhales it just as slowly.
“I missed you too,” he murmurs there, “God, I missed you.”
Tensions that have been subtly present in her body are finally releasing as she processes that he really is okay, he's holding her, that this is happening. Her breath hitches quietly in her chest as she fights to keep her emotions in check. She doesn't move until his shaking finally slows a little.
When she finally pulls back to open her eyes and look up at him with wet blue eyes, her hand moves to cradle his cheek. She leans up to brush her lips across his, the lingering touch whisper-soft as they share the air between them. "Please come home?"
It's a request she wouldn't make while he was so afraid of hurting their kids. But the plea betrays that he wasn't the only one suffering their loss of contact. Waking up in his arms is one of her anchors to the world.
The eyes that meet hers are similarly wet, his smile shaky but there and genuine as he leans into the touch of her hand. The kiss returned, ever so softly, and he murmurs back to her, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go home…”
There’s silence a moment, then he asks, “Can I bring the cat?”
She looks confused for a moment and then just laughs, leaning up to kiss him again. That cat's gonna live like a king. He brought Richard home.