Private Mess Is Mine

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Hearing the confusion in his voice drew Myra’s attention from the risotto - marvelously moist and full of flavor, so not fair he could cook this great - and saw his frown, the way his lips purse slightly in a tell that he was holding back saying something - either because he didn’t understand or because he didn’t want to make me upset - and the stammer in his words.

The art of conversation lies in listening; listen to understand, not respond.

Saffron’s mantra on active listening came to mind. Myra gnawed her lower lip and then gave a heavy sigh, not in frustration at Makai but at herself. I’m doing it again.

This time, Myra pushed through her embarrassment. She set her fork down and brought her wine glass close, fingers nervously rubbing up and down the stem.

“Makai, you don’t need to apologize. I do.” She told him, swallowing hard as she put herself out there to potentially make herself look like an idiot.

“Yes, that is the responsible thing to do. I’m grateful you took that step.” Provide the points highlighting a job well done.

“I’m sorry, but…I was a bit thrown off because, based on what we’d been talking about getting naked after dinner, my mind assumed that it meant you wanted to sleep with me. And…” a pause, as she opened then closed her mouth, searching for the right words,” I just wasn’t sure what that meant. I mean, the expectations. What you expected. Of me.”

Her face began to burn again.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“Oh.”

Here she was connecting the navpoints again for him. Makai supposed he could see the connection between potentially getting naked after dinner equating with a more carnal encounter. Quite obviously in his mind the two had been worlds apart, not even in the same orbit.

She was nervous, that much he could see. Ellie always had little tells to her nervousness, fiddling with something or tapping her fingers were always a sign.

He felt bad that she felt that way. Embarrassed he could see, not nervousness.Maybe due to the fact the first time wasn't always pleasant for women? Makai would be nervous if he thought such a thing was going down tonight as well.

“Expectations?” He echoed, once again confused. What expectations? “You mean sexually? Right?”

There was a pause, wondering if he should take a stab at what he thought was the root of the issue. Worst he could do was be wrong and that was already a frequent occurrence in his life.

“You know pornography is fake, right? Ninety, ninety-five percent of it is just straight up masterbatory fantasy…. I'm not expecting anything besides you being you.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Okay, going into this again. The topic wasn’t a new one for Makai and Myra. When hormones were raging as teens and Myra had questions, Makai had answered each one to the best of his ability, no matter how intimate. It was great for fueling Myra’s imagination but also meant that at least they went through the initial embarrassing questions and got those out of the way.

Granted, this time around, it wasn’t like she was pretending to be curious in general about guys as much as wanting to learn about Makai’s tastes and experiences; so much so that he humored the one question that landed them in her closet and her nearly hyperventilating — exaggeration — from overstimulation.

“Ah. No, that isn’t what I meant about expectations. Although I guess that is another subject to discuss…” Actually, what was there to discuss? Other than kissing four other guys and Blythe’s attempts to push through her boundaries, the only experience Myra had was an overactive imagination, memories of Makai, and what it took to get herself taken care of.

“On that end, not much to expect. I told you already I’ve… never slept with anyone, and that pretty much includes everything else other than kissing.” For her sanity’s sake, she wouldn’t count Blythe’s groping that she let herself submit to before it got too far.

Another sip of wine. Okay, the Pinot noir was starting to grow on her.

“… although I was curious about adult films after a few encrypted searches, it seems too many people have a thing for specific types of material…” Myra gave a grimace. “Not… what I want to think about when… yeah. And then the titles were—” I’ll leave it at that, her expression said.

“Besides… if I really wanted to explore that—.” She paused, realizing what she almost said about Casteel. It was not something to bring up, even if it was to be considered with a Companion she had for six years.

“Well, I didn’t. So yeah, not going to blow your socks off.” She tried to joke, but her bashfulness regarding her inexperience was evident.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“Oh…uhm, okay. Nice to know.”

Fork pushed a bit of risotto around, frankly more confused now than he had been ten minutes ago. If he could transport himself back in time Makai would have told himself to merely not mention the PharmaTech thing ever. It had just dissolved into a weird, confusing, conversation about virginity and his expectations but not those expectations.

What type of expectations did she mean? Ones he might have about their roles in the relationship? Their future? The rest of their trip? It was all incredibly vague.

Nor did he feel comfortable asking for clarity. It was as if cold water had been thrown on his evening and he had sobered up greatly.

“Yeah, there’s weird stuff out there…”

Brows were still furrowed as he was trying to figure out how they had gotten to this point, completely missing the near-mention of Casteel as Ellie mentioned about blowing his socks off.

Thirty minutes ago that would have elicited a crude and groan inducing joke like my socks aren't what I want blown off. Now? Would have dissolved into the weird category. Fell flat instead of eliciting the playful eye roll he wanted.

Another large sip of wine. It was going to be a very interesting rest of his evening.

“Glad you like the meal at least.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

By now, with the earlier big swigs and Myra’s continual nervous drinking of her wine, she was starting to feel the relaxing effects. A pleasant warmth spread from her belly to her fingertips, coaxing a soft, tingling sensation to dance through her veins.

However, as the conversation progressed and Makai seemed even more lost and no longer giving any quips of humor, Myra knew she had to bite the proverbial bullet.

“It’s wonderful. Everything tastes delicious— I love your cooking,” she genuinely said in a compliment, flashing him a soft smile.

“Thank you,” after a few seconds, she took a deep breath, reading herself for what she was about to say.

“Makai…” there was a flash of vulnerability in her expression, anxiety, and nervousness. Vocalizing this was hard. She swallowed hard, dropping her gaze to her wine, rotating the glass in her hand.

“The last time someone told me they take birth control stims to make sure no complications would ensue… they had expectations about sleeping with me right away. It was expected. I’m sorry, but my mind immediately went to that, and while I trust you implicitly … I had to be sure where you stood on those expectations so I could tell you that I’m not ready. Not yet.”

 

[Makai Dashiell]

"No need to thank me, I enjoyed making it.”

It has been some time since he had been able to flex his skills, not that he had ever had anyone to impress. Uncle Zej from time to time. His father. Not quite the same experience of cooking for the woman he loved.

Conversation had stalled and he was going to have to pick a safe topic to go to. Wine perhaps, but he didn't know enough to carry it. Maybe he could talk about her painting or break his own self-imposed rule of not talking about work.

Work was safe.

“What did you think of that pro-...”

“Makai…” there was a flash of vulnerability in her expression, anxiety, and nervousness.

Words were cut off as she caught his attention. The tone was different. Then she dived straight into her concerns. Concerns about being expected to have sex immediately just because of a stim. Ellie spoke as if it had been a requirement. A chore to be endured.

His stomach felt as if it was filling with ice as he read between the lines. It was quickly followed by a quiet rage towards whoever dared to push Ellie in such a manner. Mix in the fact he had failed to protect her, to shield her from this hurt, and he was on a roller coaster of emotion.

First thing was Ellie. His hand reached across the table, palm up if she wanted to take it. He dare not move yet, a new level of concern growing as standing over her in this vulnerable moment may send the wrong message. Concern flashed in his iced blue eyes.

“I'm sorry that happened to you. Know with me, you're in control. We do as little or as much as you like. Just say the word and we stop immediately.”

I'm going to smash this bastard's hands to shards. Let's see him touch someone else after this. Makai knew it would happen to another. Enough time in a frat had shown that. He had shoved enough creeps out of parties to know they always popped back up at the next one, never taking a hint.

“What is his name? I'd like to talk to him, man to man.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

To say that Myra wasn't reliving the experience would be a lie. At the very least, she was cognizant enough to recognize she was safe and okay with Makai. Part of her said she was being overly sensitive. Another said it was completely and utterly validated.

It was hard to figure out just where in the spectrum would be typical behavior for what occurred that particular evening. Some might say, well, he stopped, didn't he? Or add that, well, you did go into his apartment; what did you expect? Or the ever wonderful, well look at what you wear, you are practically advertising men to pay attention to you.

Myra was cognizant that those lines of thoughts were ridiculous, but in the moment, in the act, it had been very, very real. The overwhelming scent of patchouli had made her nauseated. The breath of alcohol on his lips. Over eager hands and increasingly frustrated jabs at her inability to respond, to do something. Taking the skin-crawling pawing that felt nothing like what she'd imagined and certainly did not evoke the same heady, effervescent, tingling sensations Makai gave her back on Palanhi. Everything Makai did as he touched her felt so... right.

Swallowing hard, Myra looked up, the storms in her eyes swirling a deep charcoal hue. She took his offered hand, drawing it from her wine glass to grasp it. She needed his touch. Needed to feel his warmth. His presence. The tether to her sanity.

"Okay, that's all I want. But ask me if I want to stop completely or go no further." She told him, regarding his explicit explanation regarding the boundaries of their exploration of each other, that she was fully in control. While she appreciated he was willing to stop, she also wanted to let him know that asking her what she meant by it may let him know that she may not want to go no further, but still want to make out. "But tell me too if there is anything that bothers you. I know on Palanhi I got a little..." Well, overzealous may be pushing it.

"Either way. It doesn't matter," regarding Makai's question of giving him a name, shaking her head from side to side. The last thing she wanted to do was bring Blythe up. She only did it because she saw how the conversation had turned, and Makai closed in on himself. She didn't want him to become frustrated and leave like he had in the past.

"That isn't important. It’s in the past. I want to talk about us." she squeezed his hand, trying to turn her hand within his grasp to be able to interlock her fingers with his.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“I will ask every step of the way.”

Hand turned to interlock his fingers with hers, weaving their digits together. He gave a squeeze of reassurance, silently letting her know it was safe, that he fully had her back in this moment.

“No, Ellie, it matters. Maybe you can’t say his name, that's okay. Writing on a piece of paper is fine too. Don’t protect this fucker, I won’t even mention your name during our little chat.”

For good or bad, Makai had been molded into the man he was by several forces. One large force was his father, as was with most men, but Judah had free reign to raise Makai as he saw fit. As such much of the elder Dashiells values and ideals had been hammered into every fiber of his being without input from others. Backwater ideals to some. Old fashioned to others.

One of those very ideals was taking care of your wife - in this case, girlfriend. Judah had been quick to impress this was not to be an authority figure and demand, but to step in and shield as one’s partner navigated life. To assist in ensuring comfort and safety regardless of the situation. To always have their best interests at the forefront.

As a man, this may put you in some morally ambiguous ground. Know who your first priority is.

Makai understood in this moment ; he would have to break ethical concerns of torture and inflicting harm in order to protect. To ensure future safety. He had no doubt this man would push his luck with Ellie again.

“I don’t want this guy to get so bold to think he can try this again, either with you or someone else.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Makai's reasons were not unfamiliar to Myra. They were the same Danger, and Alric had pressed upon her until Myra broke down in sobs, asking them to please, please just leave it alone. Alric had attempted to press the issue, but Danger stayed his hand, face blanched of color as Myra's, silently shaking her head and giving him a look that they were done. Myra had been in no condition to continue that conversation.

Already, the spike in her heartbeat was starting to jackhammer at Myra's throat. The anxiety swelled, and her stomach twisted as if burning in battery acid. The fingers that held her wine glass stim became knuckle white.

"No. Just let it go. " Myra told Makai, looking away from his face and simply nodding to herself as if this was the best decision. A nervous sweep of her tongue over suddenly dry lips, and Myra attempted a half smile, rolling her shoulders back, spine straight. The heiress was back. At least, enough of it to make it seem as if she was okay.

She wasn't.

"Did you mention desert?" he hadn't, but Myra figured if Makai had gone all out with dinner, odds were he'd do the same with what came after.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

The fingers interlaced with his were white, trying to center herself. He saw the shoulder roll, the straightening of her posture, the veneer pop into
place.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t shut me out Ellie.”

Makai was aware he was pushing now. He saw the anxiety starting to swell. He could only imagine the emotions that occurred during the unwanted advances, the worry afterward no one would believe her. He could understand not wanting to rock the boat or utter a name. Makai would have been completely fine if she asked for time and space to gather the courage to at least point him in the right direction.

Yet to not even want to pursue some type of retribution? To ensure the ‘verse knew how much of a scum bag this mystery man was at the very least? Why was she protecting him?

Bordering on the edge of taking his frustrations out on her, Makai reigned himself back in. They could argue but being mad towards her would accomplish nothing.

“Its me, Ellie. Its just us.” Thumb rubbed against her hand, trying to bring her back to reality. “Its my job to protect you and I’ve failed once. I won’t fail again…I need to know who this is, what if he tries to get near you again? What if you go somewhere without me and he’s there? If this guy thinks no one has your back, if he doesn’t think another man is there to challenge him, I worry what will occur.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

By now, Myra could feel her breathing quicken. Not in the way that she’d been hoping for after dinner with Makai. Blinking rapidly, Myra shook her head rapidly from left to right.

No. Not going over this again. Not now. Not here.

Not when this was supposed to be a place where they could block off the unvierse and just focus on Makai. On him. On me. On us.

Dragging Blythe into it was not the sort of recuperative sort of time she wanted to waste these precious hours with. No, Myra wanted to be able to lay in Makai’s arms, to feel his heat, his scent, his laughter, and his dirty jokes. To be able to reminisce, to lose herself in him again, and get that high she only felt in his arms again.

Not focus on Blythe. The thought alone disgusted her.

“Makai… please.” her voice cracked, the veneer crumbling a bit at his own plea that this was him and just them here. That he wanted to protect her and that he was worried. “Things are in place. Don’t worry. It’s fine. It’s in the past. It won’t matter because in the grand scheme of things, he’s not worth it. I just want to focus on us.”

A fine trembling took her, and she brought the wine glass up to down the rest. Swallowing hard she tried one last time.

“Which wine did you like best?” another attempt at the change of topic, “Want to maybe play a boardgame after. I don’t know swimming?”

She thought she saw an indoor pool.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Her veneer almost crumbled, her plea stabbing him like a knife to the gut, twisting deep. She mentioned ‘things’ being in place, that the event had been in the past. Considering his return, Makai knew the event had to be fairly recent, no way their parents would have set up the Maramere meeting otherwise.

She mentioned board games.Wine. Swimming. All activities he had planned and they would get to in time. Losing to her during a game of chess was going to solve nothing in this moment.

“Ellie, look at me.”

Azure met cashmere, holding her gaze. Makai was growing concerned by the second, between her trembling and the insistence to drop the subject, he wondered how long she pretended to be strong about the subject. To brush it aside.

“This situation does focus on us. We’re a team in this together. I know I wasn’t there before but I am here now, let me make this right. These broad shoulders aren’t just here for looks, they are for your burdens too.”

A soft smile at his own lame joke.

“Please, just don’t shut down. There’s nothing you could tell me that would drive me away.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

There it came. The blurry lines of Makai’s iceblue eyes, the smile Myra held dear, and the overwhelming concern in his gaze. Myra wasn’t made to go deep into her cups. One glass of wine and she was already feeling the buzz. Which also meant she was feeling just as easily emotional on top of her normal pendulum swing.

He was trying. The lame joke. The way he was looking at her. That they were a team. To cast her burdens on him. That he wanted to make it right.

But it wasn’t about making it right. Not now. Not here. Not when she desperately needed this time with Makai alone. Maybe later she might be able to. Just not tonight. Not while they were here in this place trying to reconnect.

Tears welled only to fall. Great, big silver rivulets carving over lightly freckled cheeks. Mouth wobbly, Myra tried to form words only to sputter. As it was whenever she’d cry, blood rushed to her nose, turning pink as her eyes lined red.

“I’m… n-not tryin’ to s-shut you out.” she finally managed to say, taking a shuddered intake of breath as her shoulders began to shake. The humiliation. The helplessness. The ride after. Makai’s message then. The self reproach that came after that. She shut her eyes and wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand. Frustration cut the lines of her actions.

“Not here, not now, please. I d-don’t want to talk about it here. I just w-want to be with you.”

Why wouldn’t he let go? She asked him so many times. Overwhelming emotions crashed against the shoreline of her heart, battling the rational and logic of Makai’s line of thought. The guilt that she had if she let Blythe walk free. The humiliation that the entire story will be there for Makai to witness how low she came. The utter frustration that she had been unable at the time to lash out and make Blythe pay. Above all, the fact that now Blythe was interjecting himself into the one place she didn’t want to be thinking of him.

“Will giving you a name change a-anything that happened? No, it won’t!” The frustration bled into what Myra had always done best: anger. Anger cut the the anxiety, guilt, and shame. Anger that this was now devolving into the circumstances at Blythe’s apartment. Anger that she didn’t want that to affect what could grow between Makai and her. What they’d been trying to do.

She attempted to draw her hand back from Makai. It wasn’t to push him away. It is because continuing the conversation was making her skin crawl.

Now her chest was heaving, her subtle curves rising and falling in a sway that was no longer delectable as it was a show of her growing fury. Tears of frustration, anger, and shame continued to flow. Another angry wipe of her cheek, her alabaster skin turning blotchy.

“So this is not what I came here for Makai! I didn’t come here on this trip to think or talk about some other guy touching me and making me sick to my stomach when I came here to be with you!” Her voice hitched an octave. Soon as she had the outburst she immediately regretted it. One could see it in her eyes.

This was soo not what she wanted this to be. For what Makai had planned. Now it would loom. Now it was tainted. Like some miasma cloud. It would be in his mind. In hers. Tarnishing every interaction and touch, making her wonder if that would be in his mind every time he kissed her or more.

Would he want me now? How would he even want to be with me after that? In her head she was yelling at herself for getting angry and doing what she told herself she wouldn’t do. To yell at Makai. That she’d talk things through. That she wouldn’t give him any reason to leave.

Yet here she was again. Just like before. One hot mess. Stupid is as stupid does.

“Damnit!” She cursed feeling the need to get away.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Silence stretched as he listened carefully, feeling immediately regret he had pushed her so far. It wasn’t fair, no matter how concerned he had been. However it was becoming increasingly clear to him the situation affected her more than she let on, that was clear when she mentioned feeling sick to her stomach. Frustration was bursting at the seams, and since he was the one pushing, also the easiest target to take her anger out on. The safest.

Makai unlaced his fingers from hers, letting Ellie draw her hand back as needed. He hated to feel its warmth leave his but he understood, in this situation it wasn’t about what he wanted. It was more about what Ellie needed. Fighting back with her in this moment would solve nothing but add fuel to flames he didn’t want to get higher.

Then it happened. Frustration and hurt boiled over, raising her voice at him. Regret was immediate in her eyes.

Makai didn’t think he would ever have to rely on his coping skills again. Sure, he had used them from time to time but this was different, it was Ellie. The one who could cut him to the core effortlessly.

Unshed tears welled in his eyes as he worked to center himself. Tears not of pain or hurt or anger, but of regret and stupidity.

Alright Makai, this hurts, hurts a lot…am I starting to cry? Breathe. There we go. You’re tensing up because you think Ellie is going to leave too, she’s not. This isn’t going to happen again, you’re an adult now.You’re on Naboo, its just an argument over someone thats not even worth arguing over. It will blow over in time.

Hand came up and wiped the tears from his eyes, taking a deep steadying breath. Both hands reached up and ran through his hair in frustration. Frustrated she wouldn’t allow him to help her. Frustration that he couldn’t make it right for her, that he couldn’t take the hurt away she was experiencing. Frustrated he had even pushed her to this point.

“I apologize. I should have never pushed you so far, it wasn’t right. I’m just so worried about you but…this isn’t about me right now. I will never mention it again.”

There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Right now he was facing down doing the one thing he didn't want to ; humbling himself to ask Casteel for more details, for insight. Hopefully the blonde bastard was willing to assist, no doubt he knew the name of the cad.

“I am going to clean up this mess.” In more ways than one. “There is dessert, you’re right. How about you go relax and regroup and I’ll bring it up to you in a little bit?”

A pause. Right, the leaving thing, best to subtly address it. To make her assured he had turned a corner.

“Unless you feel comfortable staying here and want to finish off your wine while I do dishes. I’d love your company.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Myra could sense Makai's inner struggle, a mix of regret and a desire to fix what had gone wrong. She observed his self-soothing gesture – the wiping away of tears, the deep breaths, the hands running through his chestnut hair in frustration.

Myra caught a glimpse of the exasperation lining his features; at the situation, at himself, perhaps even me? No, stop it. Everything he'd done so far showed he wasn't upset at me. It's me that escalated it once again.

Her gaze softened, guilt and shame crashing against her for yelling at him when he'd only wanted to help, witnessing the raw vulnerability painted across his face.

Stupid, stupid, Myra.

"Makai, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" her voice broke, and Myra raised her hands to rub her face. Tears smeared her palms and cheeks, and she needed to clean off her nose, or else she'd be smearing that, too. Myra wasn't a pretty cryer. She was an ugly one. Taking her napkin from the table, she tried to clean herself up, blowing her nose.

"I'm sorry. I know you are trying to help." She began, babbling one thing after another, but it only sounded like stupid excuses. After everything he told her about his ma, how he'd blank out and react to yelling. How stupid could you be, Myra?!

Myra's heart ached. She understood his concern, the deep-rooted worry that manifested as an overwhelming need to protect her. Felt the weight of his apology, acknowledging his mistake in pushing too hard. There was a sense of admiration for his humility and willingness to set aside his worries to focus on her.

Myra's thoughts raced, trying to grasp the depth of the situation, seeing beyond the surface. She appreciated his attempt to lighten the atmosphere, suggesting dessert or offering her space to unwind. His invitation for her company while he cleaned upheld a silent promise, a gentle reassurance. He wasn't leaving. He wasn't ignoring her or her concerns.

He was here. In whatever capacity Myra wanted him to be.

Myra caught the subtlety in his words, the delicate dance of addressing her concern about leaving. Myra recognized his efforts to make her feel valued, to assure her that he was striving to mend what was broken between them. At that moment, Myra saw more than Makai's words; she saw a young man trying his best to navigate the complexities of emotions and their rekindled relationship.

A fresh wave of tears crashed over her. She shook her head slowly from left to right, then faster, her voice a low hush, "No."

Then Myra clarified. A storm brewed in her eyes. But also a desperate need for his touch. For his strength to hold her. Feel him wrapping his arms around her and smell the salt and herby mint of his shampoo. Hear his heartbeat. The warmth of his body as it permeated against her.

"Touch me, please. I need you to hold me." And disinfect that nauseating sensation that still lingered in her mind.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“You don't need to apologize.”

There was no need for such a thing. While Makai didn't understand what she had gone through, he also did understand in his own way. It was natural anyone would be upset, lashing out was part of the process, especially when he had been one to strike that raw nerve.

Instead of wanting space, Ellie wanted the exact opposite. It was the one thing in this moment he couldn't mess up or make worse.

Makai left his spot across from her and met Ellie halfway, the trade heiress moving towards him.

Arms quickly enveloped her, drawing the woman tight to him. Face was buried in his chest, arms tight around him as if she was trying to squeeze out every molecule between them.

Hand slid up her back, running the length of her spine in a soothing manner.

You're an idiot Makai Dashiell.

Makai kissed the top of her head, Ellie hadn't lifted herself from his chest yet but it didn't matter, if she needed to hide away for the rest of their time on Naboo then so be it.

“Ellie?” Voice finally broke the silence. “You want to get comfortable together on the couch? Or in our room? It would be easier to cuddle that way, to relax more.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

The effect was instantaneous. Warm arms wrapped around Myra, the soft fabric of Makai's hoodie cradling her against his chest. Damp nose rubbed against the jersey fabric, inhaling the faint scent of salt, earth, and mint deeply and that musky yet pleasant undertone that was uniquely Makai. Her fingers fisted into the fabric at his back, clinging him so tightly as if she were afraid he would disappear from sight.

As he caressed her, Myra turned her head under his chin, folding herself into him as small as she could get.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." her muffled voice would cry out, shoulders shaking as her body quivered in guilt at her outburst and in the relief at the sanctuary of Makai's arms. He assured her she didn't need to apologize, but Myra couldn't help it.

It took a minute, but Myra calmed down enough for the sobs to fade into irregular sniffles. Her breaths were shallow, punctuated by small, involuntary shudders that occasionally wrack her body. Her head seemed to throb and ache from the crying, and she felt exhausted.

Myra felt Makai's hand reach up to brush over the top of her head and braid, another kiss pressing gently on her temple, Myra resting her cheek against his chest. He didn't pressure her to answer, knowing Myra would do it in her own time.

Finally, after another deep, shuddering breath, Myra responded with a slow up-and-down nod of confirmation.

"The room, please." Myra's voice resonated with a deep weariness. She blinked slowly, trying to regain composure, but the remnants of her tears clung to her lashes, framing swollen, puffy, red-rimmed pewter colored eyes that betrayed a mix of vulnerability and gratitude.

"Lay down with me?" she asked in a heartbreaking voice, as if afraid Makai wouldn't want to, despite him stating he would cuddle and relax with his offer to find a more comfortable place.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“Of course. Come on.”

It took a moment to maneuver Ellie upstairs, back to the quiet little cocoon of their room. Makai flipped the lights off save for the two lamps at the bedside, allowing for less glare on the glass ceiling above them. Clouds moved above them, rain easing as the storms moved through the area.

Their bits of crackers and cookies were still in the middle and he moved them off the bed,pulling the thick comforter back for Ellie.

“Get comfortable, I'll be right back.”

His arm has been around her and broke away, moving towards the bathroom. Teeth brushed, hoodie off, and face scrubbed it only took a few minutes to rejoin her for the night.

Makai slipped into the bed, drawing close so they met in the middle. Ellie was back solidly against him, warm weight a welcome feeling as they settled in. His hand came to tuck small strands of loose hair behind her ear.

How did they get here? His stupidity it seemed. Makai wished he had backed off sooner but much of the night would have dissolved into the same chaos. It stung to know she didn't trust him enough to name her overeager suitor. Yet he of all people knew how deep trauma ran. Maybe she just couldn't.

“You want me to turn on The Jubilation of Painting? Or is silence okay?”

Makai was aware thoughts could run rampant in these situations, sometimes mindless numb entertainment could soothe the racing.Hand rubbed her arm, still concerned.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

With her head nestled against Makai's shoulder, Myra laid on her side, one hand crushed between them while the other went, snaking her arm under his to wrap around his waist and draw him near, urging him closer until there was no space between them. Her right knee and slender thigh gave a slight nudge between Makai's legs until he lifted his knee, allowing her leg to slip in between and scissor together with his.

"No," she shook her head negatively to both the offer of Bob Rosi or silence and instead requested something else, wanting to hear the low tenor of his voice as he spoke by her ear, her breath fanning his collarbone

"Tell me about your first internship."

At this distance, she could feel the fan of his minty breath tickle her forehead, and the low thrum of his voice resonate within his chest. Closing her eyes, Myra let herself sink into this moment, taking it in one mental audio and tactile recording at a time. The relaxing ping of rain against the glass. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The comforting soft fabric of his shirt was warm, with the heat radiating off his skin. The reassuring brush of a calloused palm sailing up and down her arm in comfort and affection; every stroke was a tangible promise that assured Myra of her safety, his protection, and to be her sanctuary. Every second that passed in his embrace made the whole universe better; just a bit more brighter than the last.

In the back of her head, she knew she should also go brush her teeth and wash up after having salmon and risotto for dinner, but that Makai didn't press the issue meant that he'd be okay with her salmon wine breath for now. Okay, maybe he really did love her.

Or he didn't mind the smell of cedar-planked salmon on her breath this close to his face. He was half fish, after all. With the prettiest scales she'd ever did see.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“Wow, you must be tired and unable to fall asleep.”

Makai was joking but his first internship had not been as exciting as the last two summers spent charting the sea floor on Aynaboni. Cartography had been rather interesting with most of his days on the research vessel.

“Marine geology internship, this is before the ocean cartography the following two summers. So here I am, thinking I am going to be out on the deck of a research vessel, thigh scales shimmering in the sun in my short shorts, adventures around every corner. Explore a few caves. Maybe some interesting shorelines. Get a little tanner than normal, you know.”

There was a humorless laugh as he thought back to what actually occurred during that time period.

“So what exactly happened? I spent the entire summer in the bowels of a research vessel, looking through a microscope at marine sediments. Categorizing freakin’ sediments and their qualities. I didn't even get to see the ocean, they brought the samples down to us.”

Makai stopped running his hand down her arm and stopped to squeeze her upper arm playfully.

“Hunched over like a little nerd, eyes squinting into the ‘scope, shoulders straining, lower back giving out.”

He grinned at his description of himself despite Ellie being unable to see it. He listened for a moment, her breathing evening out, muscles less tense.

“If I wanted to be bored,annoyed, and stuck in a windowless room I would have stayed at Celestia and did whatever Dad wanted me to do.”

Hand that had playfully squeezed her arm did so again. Voice was low.

“You feeling better?”