missingthekeep | Homeplot: On a Jet Plane

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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.

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"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.

"I can live without surgeries," Meredith protests. "I've done it for years. Mostly. Just because I'm not good at it doesn't mean I haven't managed." She doesn't really think he means any offense by it, of course, but idle chatter and long flights go hand in hand.

Sean looks at her oddly for a moment before he's grinning again, whistling sharply for the stewardess' attention before he answers her. "Jus' 'cause ye can doesnae mean that ye should have to."

Meredith tips her head from one side to the other, shrugging. "True," she says, all but smirking. "I shouldn't. There's a lot we —" She doesn't finish, though, as the flight attendant approaches to see what he needs, her attitude that tired but efficiently pleasant one that seems to be the lot of stewardesses in any decade.

Sean spends a couple seconds making sure he's reasonable confident that he knows what she was going to say, and then it's forgotten as he gets himself a couple more small bottles from the drinks trolley. "Ye want anythin'?" he asks, his gaze flitting from the stewardess to Meredith. "That... c'n be provided at the moment?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine for now," Meredith says, looking between them like she's not quite sure which one she's addressing — both of them, either of them, it doesn't entirely matter.

Shrugging, Sean slumps back in his seat as the stewardess leaves, cracking open a drink as he does. "What were we talkin' 'bout again?"

"I have no idea," laughs Meredith, shaking her head. "Uh... you're gonna build me a hospital and supply it with patients. Best wedding gift ever."

"Right," Sean says, snapping his fingers. "Knew it was somethin' like that. I'm jus' worried 'bout what'll happen when someone finally twigs to the fact that the sudden rash o' injury an' illness is all on me."

"Oh, they won't," Meredith says, waving that off as if it were an actual concern. "You're too clever for that, remember? I'm pretty sure I already said you're clever. You'll figure it out."

Sean laughs, sipping his drink. Even in jest, every vote of confidence from her counts. "E'en the best of us meet our match, eventually, luv," he says, not bothering to stop grinning or do anything else to make himself seem remotely serious.

"You don't know that it's this time," Meredith says, cheerful, partly because of the joke and partly because it still feels good just to get him laughing. Times when that was harder to do are too recent for her not to want to leap on any chance she has to make that happen. "And if it is, well, you have a good excuse. I make a very good excuse."

"That ye do," Sean admits, still laughing under his breath. "Lord knows I've already done plenty o' mad things f'r ye."

Meredith nods. "You have," she says, just a touch more serious. "You need to stop that. One of these days, you're gonna get in real trouble." She doesn't want that and she sure as hell doesn't want it on her hands. He's had enough near misses for her taste as it is.

"Ah, like I've ne'er been there before," Sean says lightly, knowing full well that he's probably not taking the matter as seriously as she'd like. In most of the instances she's thinking of, though, he had no choice.

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