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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"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.

"You and me both," Meredith says dryly. "Doesn't mean I want to see you back there again." She's sure the same holds true in reverse, though it's not like most of the times she's been hurt have been her fault.

Holding back the urge to point out that he could say the exact same thing to her, Sean just sits back and watches her, his tone as mild as ever. "It's nae as if I do it on purpose."

"I would hope not," Meredith says, glancing pointedly at his shoulder. "I just like it better when not every patient on my list is you, that's all."

"Ah, but ye're so good at fixin' me," Sean says, with a false innocence that hopefully doesn't undercut the fact that he means it. There's no one else that he'd trust more to patch him up.

"I am," Meredith agrees, nodding. There's no doubt in her mind about that. However long she's been away from hospital work, she's still good at what she does, as much as anyone can be with so little to keep their hand in. "But you know I'd rather not have to." It was a relief to turn him over to someone else the other day, even if that's not entirely true, even if she'd rather be sure it's being done properly and therefore by her. She just doesn't trust she'll always be steady enough for it.

Sean's smile doesn't fade, but he nods anyway, gives in for now. "I know," he says softly. "I'd rather ye nae have to, as well."

"Can we try to avoid it when it's not absolutely necessary?" Meredith asks, leaning toward him, her head lolling against the seat. It's not like she thinks he gets hurt on purpose, like he hasn't just been taking care of her; she just doesn't want to go through it again.

"We dinnae already do that?" Sean asks, raising an eyebrow almost suspiciously.

"Well, I would hope so," Meredith says dryly, "but it still felt worth saying." It's not like she gets into that kind of trouble (much) or like it's avoidable when it happens (by much, anyway).

"Fair enae," Sean says, but the odd look he gives her doesn't go away immediately. He sure as hell doesn't just go waltzing into these situations of his own accord. "Guess it's happened enae times now ta be worth the reminder."

"And I'd rather it not happen again," Meredith says, then manages a bit of a smile, brow raising slightly. "At least before — you know. I just think it wouldn't make for much of a honeymoon if you've been shot or stabbed or whatever too recently."

"Now there's a convincin' argument," Sean says, once more on the verge of laughing, just from the mere mention of what's in store for them. "If anythin's liable ta get me ta think twice, it's the thought o' havin' ta keep from givin' in t'ye fer too long."

"Giving in," Meredith echoes, laughing incredulously. "I'm not making you do anything you don't want." If she's honest, that always does seem to be one of the more difficult aspects of the healing process, but then, that seems to be in part because the circumstances of why they're healing usually make her want to turn to their default response to trouble.

"Exactly," Sean says as if this should be self-evident, laughing in turn. "If'n I didnae want it, then holdin' back wouldnae be much of a problem, now would it?"

"Giving in," Meredith says again, then shakes her head, grinning. "It wouldn't be, no, but it is. I'd say that's something we should work on, but I don't wanna."

"Why on earth would we wanna?" Sean asks, genuinely befuddled for all that he's still teasing. Some days, that's the only thing he can get right, after all. What is there to work on?

"I don't know, any time I think of a reason, it's entirely stupid," Meredith says, grinning. Sometimes she thinks they still act like teenagers, but what's so wrong about that? She likes that she can never get enough of him, that a couple years together hasn't made things less exciting or whatever it is other people wind up complaining about as the years roll on.

"Figgered as much," Sean says brightly, as pleased by that as anything else. "I mean, it's nae as if we're hurtin' anyone by it."

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