missingthekeep | [for Meredith]

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[for Meredith]

It's not often that Sean comes home in this state anymore, with that old swagger in his step that comes from too much focus spent keeping it steady, but really, that's what makes the times when he does go all out all the more worth it. That's what he tells himself, anyway. The guilt that he feels when he drinks is a rather unwelcome recent addition, however, fading echoes of a fight with Meredith that he barely remembers always ready to creep up on him as soon as he lets his guard down, and there's only so much rationalizing he can do after he's had a few. Which leads to more drinking, which leads to nights like tonight. It doesn't seem fair, somehow, when he's finally getting over the depression that had plagued him for months, to be brought low by something so utterly ridiculous, but at least it tends to fade away pretty reliably somewhere during the short walk home. These are good days he's living in, good times, and these nights are the exception as opposed to the rule now. Which makes them all the more worth it.

He pauses in the yard to ruffle Doc's fur when he gets home and the damn mutt nearly gets him rolling around on the ground with him by the time Sean drags himself through the front door. "Hey you," he drawls fondly when he spots Meredith and heads over to a chair, draping his jacket over the back of it before taking a seat with a heavy sigh. "We should have a couch. Why don't we have a couch?"

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"Where would we get a couch?" Meredith asks, looking up from her book, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she takes him in. She knows that walk, she knows the way he sounds. It's not like they haven't been doing well lately, enough so that it's not necessarily unusual for him to be in a good mood, but this is as different as it is familiar. It's with considerable effort that she keeps her tone light as she asks, "Where have you been anyway?"

"Out an' about," Sean says with a wave of his hand, the gesture large and overly-exaggerated. She's a smart woman and she she knows him, she doesn't need him to fill in the details. "An' where does anyone get anythin'? S'pose I could try makin' one. Might take some work ta make it more comfortable'n any ol' bench, though."

"Mm, I wouldn't risk it right now." Meredith goes back to reading, or at least to looking like she's trying to. Focusing on the words on the page is difficult when she's bristling and trying to fight it. She asked him to cut back and he has, and this seems to fly in the face of that, but is it really such a crime? She never asked him to stop drinking entirely. It feels like a backwards step, but she could just be overreacting and she needs a moment to weigh it. Either way, though, she doesn't have to be pleased about it.

Sean shoots her a quick look, but that on its own isn't enough to spoil his good mood at being home again, at least not yet, and he flashes her a smile. "I'm sure I c'n wait 'til the mornin'," he says wryly, although knowing how she'll likely react to his doing anything to take the edge off of the inevitable hangover he's going to have probably means that isn't a time he should really be looking forward to. Hardly worth dwelling on at the moment, though. "So? How was yer evenin'?" he asks a moment later, drawing the words out as he leans his head lazily against one hand and leans forward over the table.

It'd be nice to have a couch, and Meredith can't help a flicker of resentment at being here again, worn and faded though it is, at being here instead of elsewhere with him. It's easy to pretend his drinking wouldn't be a problem if they were somewhere else, that life would be simpler and she would be happier in a more fulfilling job. There's no guarantee of any of that anywhere, though. "Quiet," she says, still less than pleased in spite of her attempts at logic. "How was yours?"

"Less quiet, probably," Sean replies, smirking in her general direction as his gaze wanders idly about the room. "Good, though."

Obviously.

Meredith purses her lips, glancing away. "I thought you were cutting back," she says. It's impossible to say that and not feel like a hypocrite, but she doesn't go out drinking to excess often anymore and she needs to stick to her guns. The things she says have no weight if she can't hold to them after the initial fight.

Sean sighs, exasperation seizing upon him all at once as his gaze locks unsteadily on her. "I have," he says, as firm as he's able without yet sounding too cross. "In case ye havenae noticed. Or does that mean I'm nae allowed to indulge at all, anymore, too?"

"I didn't say that," Meredith protests. "And I have noticed, but this is just... I worry, that's all." The last thing he needs is to start slipping backwards again. That's the last thing she needs, at least. If it gets worse again, she doesn't want to think of the fight that will ensue or the problems or if he'll come back this time at all.

"Yeah, well," Sean says, but he doesn't actually have anything to follow it up with. That sounds exactly like what she said, to his ears, and it's all he can do to keep from simply scoffing. Besides, he's hardly a stranger when it comes to worry these days, but he doesn't expect her to understand where he's coming from with it. "Save it f'r somethin' that's actually worth it, would ye? If'n ye wanted t'be wi' some teetotaler, ye wouldnae be wi' me."

"I don't want you to be a teetotaler, I want you to be careful." Meredith sighs, turning her head away. Why she's even bothering, she doesn't know. He's not really going to hear her in this state anyway, determined to take everything she says all wrong. "I just don't want things to escalate again."

"Neither do I," Sean protests, forcing himself to his feet so he can head over to her side. Sure, he wasn't the one who wanted to de-escalate in the first place, and that hasn't changed any, but her reactions mean it could never be worth the risk on his end, either.

It's been a long time since he was so worried about her reactions.

"'Twas jus' a night out, dinnae be upset," he says, gentler.

The question is always where the line gets drawn. Is it at one? If not there, where? Three? Five nights like that? Over a month? In a row? She doesn't know the answers to her own concerns, which makes her horribly unprepared to discuss them or respond the way she wants to.

Instead Meredith sighs and shakes her head. "Is everything okay?" It's not as if she hasn't gone drinking just because before, but it always seems to increase with him when things are bad. If it's the former, then she doesn't have to worry. But then, she doesn't always trust him to answer that question honestly. God knows she usually doesn't.

"O' course," Sean replies as he reaches out to rest a hand gently on her shoulder, obviously confused. It is as long as she doesn't continue to make a big deal out of this, anyway, as long as she doesn't get it in her head that there's something fundamentally wrong with him again. The usual, in other words, which is a problem all unto itself, but he's pretty sure that's not what she's asking. "What could be wrong?"

Meredith raises her brow at him, head tipping to the side. Hand lifting to rest on his, she shrugs. "What couldn't be?" she asks. Things have been better the last few weeks, at least for her, but there's always a long list of what could easily go wrong, and that's not counting all the way their minds play tricks on them when nothing's really the matter. There's always something.

She's got a point, of course, but it's not one that Sean's in the mood to acknowledge just now and he shakes his head, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly, leaning slightly against the back of her chair in the process. "Things're good right now," he says, and it feels a little bit like he's reassuring himself of that as well. His only concerns lie in what happens if that ever stops being true again. Perfection, or their closest available approximation, never lasts. "Can't we jus' enjoy 'em?"

"We could," Meredith says. "But you're off enjoying them while I sit here with a book. And not even a good one." She can't even blame herself for that either; the bookshelf has its good days and its bad, and it's always a gamble. That isn't the point either, though. She's never altogether certain what's going to come out until she says it, but she knows she has a point, although it makes her wonder if the problem, then, is her, if she's not worried so much as jealous.

She sighs. "Yes. Yes, of course we can."

Sean sighs, breaking away from her in thinly veiled frustration. She doesn't seem to be spoiling for a fight this time around, but that's not enough when she still insists on making a big deal out of this when it isn't. When it shouldn't be, at any rate. "We get time apart. We need time apart, ye said as much yerself. Ye think I dinnae want ta spend as many nights wi' ye as I can? It's nae my fault that the thought o' proposin' we go out an' put somethin' stronger'n milk past our lips makes me terrified o' what ye'll think o' me. Wi' good reason, obviously, if'n this is how ye act."

"That is ridiculous," Meredith says, turning in her seat to face him better. "What, am I the teetotaler now? You know that's ridiculous." They need their space, that's true, but she doesn't know what him going off and getting drunk is supposed to do in their favor when it's already been a problem. He's just making excuses now, irritation bubbling up in her at the thought. "So you're scared of me now, is that what you're saying? Because I was worried about something."

"Maybe it is," Sean counters, surprising even himself with that, all these things that he's wanted to say for weeks but keeps shoving aside suddenly pushing to come out. Even he can see how that would be a bad idea in his present condition, although the idea of a built-in excuse for whatever it is he has to say is almost appealing. Shaking his head with another tired-sounding sigh, he steps closer again, his movements careful and loose as he bends over to kiss her cheek, fervently praying that she won't rebuff him. "Look, I really dinnae want ta do this right now."

Meredith stares dumbly at him, not pulling away but not paying much attention either, still caught on his first statement. "No," she says, "you can't say that. You can't just say that and then call it quits like you — like nothing's happening." It's not as if she thinks he doesn't scared of things, like they don't have plenty to lose. It's just not supposed to be her.

Sean's completely with her on that count, agreeing with everything she says and even some of the things she doesn't, which makes everything he can think of to come out of his mouth sound like a pathetic deflection at best, and the utter lies they are at worst. Even when it comes as naturally as breathing to him, though, he's never really had it in him to lie to her, anyway. "Well, ye shouldnae be able t'make me feel this way an' then go on like everythin's hunky-dory f'r weeks, but here we are," he replies tightly, features drawn down in consternation. "I really did have a good night, Meredith, I jus' want ta put on some music an lay down an' forget about this."

"Well, you go ahead," Meredith says, pulling to her feet. He's half-drunk and he's right, this is no time to have this argument, least of all when she's increasingly furious, but if she's going to give him that space to forget, she can't do it here. "But I can't. I need to get some air or something." She stops, whirling around to face him, head shaking. "And — no, you know, you've done that to me, too. You've done it a lot, so don't tell me I don't get to. If you do, so do I. You know, at least I said something."

Sean's eyes go wide as she rounds on him before his expression hardens, more hurt than angry. Getting his emotions flaring on a dime is always something she's had a knack for, and no matter how unsteady he suddenly feels, tonight is no exception. He really should have expected this, but he's not thinking any of it through, so she manages to completely blindside him. "It's nae the same," he says quietly, before his voice rises. For all the thought he's put into this over the weeks, he's never actually tried putting it to words, and it's proving to be a trickier prospect than anticipated. He understands perfectly what he means, but she just doesn't see it, doesn't see the problem, and he's not sure how to make her. "There's a difference 'tween bein' concerned o'er a person, an'... or givin' 'em cause ta worry, or... I wouldnae do that! Nae what ye..." He trails off, shaking his head and frowning at the way it all comes out wrong, confused, a perfect match for his frame of mind.

"Not what I what?" Meredith asks. Her hands drop to the side as she sighs. This is the wrong time to get into this, she knows that, and it's unfair to pick a fight when he's in this state, but she's not the one saying things like that and she can't just run off and leave him to push it aside while she clears her head. She can't just let this go. "What did I do that was so terrible? Because you're right, it has, it has been weeks and you haven't said anything to make me think we aren't okay until tonight."

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