missingthekeep | Homeplot: On a Jet Plane

Entry tags:

Homeplot: On a Jet Plane

Sean's not sure what to think. Since waking up in their Washington hotel room yet again that morning, he's been in a perpetual state of unease that has nothing to do with the absolute reaming that is no doubt in store for him in London. He's half-tempted to suggest just going on the lam with Meredith for however much longer this lasts, but for now, he spends his time fidgeting in his cramped economy seat on the plane (maybe he'd been on something of a spending spree, but the tickets had been booked on their behalf), playing with a tiny, empty scotch bottle.

"Least all yer paperwork went through without a hitch," he says, looking over at Meredith with a cheerfulness that, vague unease aside, remains pretty genuine after the events of the last day. Maybe they should have gone back by now, maybe there's more to this than they initially thought, but whatever they're facing, they're still facing it together.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Maybe so," Sean laughs, "but it's murder on me self-esteem." His mood hasn't shifted, he's still pleased as punch with just about everything in the world right now, but it's not actually all that much of a joke. It's a good day indeed when he feels as if he measures up to her.

"How?" Meredith asks with a laugh. Life on the island isn't that satisfying, no, but it isn't for anyone. She got lucky, and even then, it's mostly in name. "It's a close race."

"Ah, it's always easier ta say that when ye're winnin'," Sean replies, just barely reining in the urge to stick out his tongue.

Meredith pouts a little, though it's wholly feigned. "I am not," she says. "You can stop with the flattery. Don't make me argue against myself."

"I thought ye wanted flattery," Sean laughs, gently nudging her with his elbow. "Praise f'r all that ye've done an' such."

"Not at your expense," Meredith says, light though she means it entirely. "Aren't you supposed to get praise and flattery, too? As a tradition, that makes a lot more sense than some of the other things."

"Maybe," Sean admits reluctantly, pausing before he relents entirely. "I'll certainly nae stop ye, anyway." The way he sees it, no much how much he screws up, he's got to still be doing something right if he's still got her.

"Well, good," Meredith says. "It'd be silly to try and I don't think you could, so there's no point in wasting your time when you can spend it being perfect elsewhere."

Sean ducks his head, his blush fortunately not nearly so pronounced this time. "Well, who'm I t'argue wi' logic like that?"

"Exactly," Meredith sighs, tipping her head back against the seat as she closes her eyes. "You could try, but what would be the point? Just take the praise. It's much easier."

"When've I e'er done what's easy?" Sean asks wryly, but he's relaxing again as he says it. "S'pose after what we jus' went through, though, we're overdue a bit of it."

By that logic, Meredith's life should be a hell of a lot easier than it has been, and the same holds true for his. Things just don't work like that. But this once, it feels like they actually have, like they're getting some of the good, some of the peace, due them. "Just a little bit," she agrees wryly. "I think for getting shot, you get more than a little."

"I knew there had ta be an upshot to this," Sean deadpans, his smile flickering back into place a second later. The more time that passes with the injury, the more his stoic machismo of the moment fades and the more he wants to complain about it, but they've got enough on their plate as it is. "I'll take it."

It's hardly the only thing that's gone wrong for them or even, if Meredith's honest, the worst, but she's in no mood to dwell, at least not now. Instead she holds up her hand, thumb and forefinger just barely spread apart. "Just a little one," she says, "but better than nothing."

"Better'n the norm, at that," Sean says, reaching up in the middle of her gesture to take her hand in his. It's better than it really has any right to be, all things considered. Just like they seem to always have been.

Meredith would certainly hope so, but to say so disrupts her own teasing. She just turns her hand in his, grinning, the sight of the ring on her own still coming as something of a surprise. "I guess so," she says, airy, paired with a shrug that says she knows how much that's an understatement. "You know there's something screwy with our lives. It's always like this. Nothing, nothing, nothing and then out of nowhere, bullets and proposals and just everything. I don't think that's normal."

"Oh, ye dinnae think so?" Sean teases, but his eyes are trailing over the ring on her finger and he nods after a short pause. "I ken what ye mean. It's hard ta tell which is better." Right now, the answer should seem obvious, but the bad comes like this just as much as the good, in sudden, overwhelming rushes.

"Oh, come on, that's easy," Meredith says. "The out of nowhere part. Even when it's bad, it's... something. The nothing drives you crazy." She hasn't missed it, couldn't possibly. Even if she's just as bored half the time, she has more and better ways to hide it, and that's something.

Sean huffs out a quiet laugh, running his thumb along the back of her hand. She knows him too bloody well. "Ye got me there," he admits, biting his lip. It's a wonder she still manages to put up with him. "I dinnae ken how ye do it, honestly."

"Do what?" Meredith asks. "Put up with you when you're going crazy or put up with the nothing?" She doesn't really, but she's getting better at it, or at least at covering how much it drives her mad, too. "A lot of stuff I make up to do that doesn't need doing, my friends, and putting up with you, that's a full time job."

But is it a fulfilling one? That's the question, and it's one he doesn't have the heart to ask as long as things remain good and exciting. "Shame the pay's so lousy," he says instead, shooting her a sideways glance.

Meredith laughs and nods. "Good enough," she says. She's reached a point in her life that never, to her, seemed like a matter of time; it always felt like the kind of thing that happened to other people, that she would never get or want, right up until him. Somehow it's worked out. "I get by."

"If 'twere up ta me, ye'd ne'er be left wantin' fer a thing," Sean says sweetly, sitting up a bit so he can flag down the stewardess for another drink when she passes by again. One day, he reminds himself. One day it'll all be possible. Until then... they'll get by.

"I don't," Meredith says, brow raising a bit. "Honest. Except surgeries, and I really don't need you arranging those for me back home. I'll survive without." She knows he'd give her everything if he could. That'll have to be enough until they can get off the island for real, for good, and she can find an actual job again, impatient though she is for that day to come. She's, admittedly, a bit sorry it isn't now, if only so he could keep his ability and she could make a name for herself with all the surgical techniques she knows from a time after this one.

Sean hesitates, at once grateful for her words and doubtful of them. There has to be more that he's not doing for her, he knows there must. It's all going to have to wait anyway, though, so for now, he just smiles and shrugs with a vague "We'll see."

One day.

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