Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2026-01-27
Words:
1,099
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
5
Kudos:
5
Bookmarks:
1
Hits:
38

water cooler conversations

Summary:

It was about time to test out the tempting waters.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The bed creaks from the weight of their moving bodies.

He huffs and groans into the crook of Linda’s bare neck, where a faint bite mark begins to form. She had demanded that he leave no trace, but he knew it drove her wild.

Linda, washed with an afterglow, chuckles, “God, that was crazy. You’re crazy.” A hand combs into his thin, red hair.

Exhaustion leaves him with only a hum to reply with. After his body relaxes, he straightens up. He examines Linda, who is verging on sleep. Her naked and soft body in his callused grasp. 

It felt surreal. Through all the smoking, alcohol, and poor eating habits, she looked beautiful. He felt guilty. She deserved someone better. This wasn’t better– but it felt incredible.

He pulls himself out, a soft moan escaping Linda’s lips. He steps to the bathroom, dampens a small towel, and returns to wipe between her legs and stomach.

“Thanks,” Linda mumbles. “You seriously don’t have to do that.”

No reply. The cloth brushes her skin, leaving goosebumps in its path. Linda cranes her head to watch him. His dead eyes were glued to the task.

“Something on your mind?” She asks. He drops the towel, puts his wire-framed glasses on, and sits on the edge of the bed, with his legs closed and his gaze toward the window.

Curious, she crawls over. The paint-scattered freckles on his pale back catch her attention. She has never noticed it before. Her hands slither across his stomach and pull him into a warm, comforting hug. Her head rests against his upper back. His heartbeat is faint.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, you can tell me.” Her jagged nails softly scratch his skin. An action that he barely registers, or chose not to. 

“Are you sure Charles doesn’t know you’re here?”

She hums, “I’m sure. My daughter’s with him. They’re seeing a movie.”

He stares into the navy blue abyss. It’s a typical summer night. The grey tops of roofs peek from the large window frame. A single streetlamp softly bathes the street. His heavy, unfocused eyes fall to his palms. His pale hands rest on his lap. Between them, her slender arms crossed over– there’s a finger gently circling above his pec. 

Her silver ring reflects in his small eyes. The reminder makes him wince.

His warm hand covers her small fingers and moves them off his body, more aggressively than he intended to. He gets up and reaches for his shirt.

Linda, slouched, observes the tall man dressing himself. The sudden loss of contact makes her vulnerable. The cold air spreads goosebumps and shivers across her thin body. She pulls the sheets up to cover her exposed breasts.

“Did I do something?” She mutters.

No reply.

“Where are you going?” Linda pleads as he paces away.

“I’m going for a walk.” He snatches his leather shoes, slips them on, and walks out.

Hey!

He stomps down the stairs. Then, a door slams.

She sits alone, quiet. The sheets were still tight in her hand. Her voluminous hair begins to settle. Her hard face loosens. Everything returns to its usual rhythm. There was no high to chase. It was gone, drained from her body.

Linda steps to the window. From it, the long street of suburban houses looked endless. The cold floor sends a shiver through her toes and to the crown of her head. The white sheets slide off the mattress when she wraps them over her shoulders. 

Then, she spots him. The parallel streetlights illuminate her therapist. Four shadows spawned, like a crosshair or star.

Linda watches him fade down the street. She tries to get a better look, but taps her head on the glass. Defeated, she returns to the mattress.

She crawls to the stacked pillows, tossing them away except for one. She grasps it, her face enveloped in the smell of his drugstore deodorant. 

In the fetal position, warmed by his sheets and the lingering touch from the pillow, she falls fast asleep. The reality of her life slips back into her consciousness. This sand, fleeting from her hands, was all she had left.


Sunlight pours in, bathing Linda in a glow that illuminates the whole bedroom.

It seeps through her eyelids, forcing her to awaken. She hadn’t moved an inch during the night. Her body still curved around the absence of him.

Linda sits up, bringing her knees to her chin. The sounds of cars passing down the street remind her of how alien the neighbourhood was. Compared to the tiny downtown apartment and its accompanying, disruptive ambiance, her alertness was up.

She slips out of bed and navigates slowly to the bathroom. The harsh light around the mirror’s frame forces her to squint as she makes out her appearance. Still naked, Linda scans her thin body. A light bruised bite mark hides under her hair. Fuck. Hopefully, she can get home before her daughter awakens and dab makeup over it.

Moving from the mark, she searches her pale face. Her small pupils and knitted brows call her to relax. Her pores and dark, hollowed eyes are suddenly pronounced when she stares at her reflection, something that never happened back in the apartment. It frightens her.

Pulling her focus away, Linda grabs a large shirt from the bathroom and slips it on. Clearly, it wasn’t hers, from the way the collar ended under her collarbone and the short sleeves hovered at the elbows.

She takes careful steps down the wooden staircase. An abrupt creak sends a jolt up her curved spine. A hand flies to her chest, as if her heart would fly out of her ribcage.

“You’re up.” A voice states plainly.

Linda snaps her eyes to the head poking from the couch. A messy bunch of red hair faces her.

She tucks her hands under her armpits. “What time did you get back?”

“I dunno, late? You were asleep by the time I got back.”

“You checked up on me?”

“Well, it’s my bed, Linda. My room.” He gets up. The clothes he hastily threw on were still on his tall body. “I thought you’d be out, so I slept here.”

She nods. A sense of unwanting seeps in. Linda shifts side to side, causing the wooden creaking to become rhythmic. Her fingers fiddle with the tight wedding band. Staring at it now, her nausea was rising. Realization fills her with regret.

“I’m making coffee,” He calls out once he disappears from her view.

“I should be on my way.” She mutters, barely audible. 

And she returns upstairs.

Notes:

if you enjoyed this, feel free to leave kudos and comments!!
you can also find updates on my fics here (or you can ask me things!) : https://metrobakedovens.tumblr.com/