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You’re settled against John in his room, your breathing deepening in the way that it does right before you’re about to fall asleep. He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder and then mumbles a question that makes your eyes snap open.
‘You ever wanted children?’
He asks it with his quiet confidence, doesn’t make it sound casual or airy. Just sure.
‘Thought about it. But then life happened and now I am happy without them.’
‘What changed?’
You turn to him, head resting in the space beneath his chin, quietly tracing the groove of his collarbone with the tips of your fingers. He stills under your movement.
‘You did.’
You close your eyes again, content to wrap up the conversation. The finality with which you made your statement makes it hard to argue, but you can tell that John is willing to meet the challenge.
‘You settled because of me?’ he asks, the roughness of his voice is tinged with insecurity and festering misunderstanding.
You sigh, pushing yourself up and leaning over him to turn on the lamp by the bed. His features are vaguely visible in the low light, yet his eyes seem brightly illuminated.
‘Don’t hear what I’m not saying, John.’ you whisper and press a kiss to his cheek, ‘I simply met a man who already closed off that part of his life and fell in love with him. ’s All.’
He strokes your hair from your face and the look in his eyes tells you that you aren’t soothing his insecurities, you’re only managing to put a spotlight on them.
‘God, do you hear yourself? You settled, end of.’ he insists stubbornly, ‘you wanted children and then you met me and now you’ve settled for a life you don’t want. Not really, at least.’
His voice has raised just a fraction by the end of his sentence, and you know that you’re losing grip on the conversation.
You try to take his face in your hands, but he turns from your grasp and that hurts more than you’re willing to admit. He throws his legs over the edge of the bed and suddenly he’s pacing the room, as though this conversation is a case that he wants to crack.
‘Why are you so intent on turning this into a fight?’
‘I am not trying to turn this into a fight; I am trying to make you see reason!’
His tone is firmer now than it was earlier, and you know it’s only the late hour that prevents him from talking louder, maybe even yell. His heaving chest is telltale enough. You can’t believe that only two minutes earlier you were dozing off in his arms and now you’re huddled in the blankets while fighting with him. He doesn’t scare you like this, he never could. To you he’s always John and never mister Dutton. But you can see how this side of him could intimidate other people.
‘I didn’t settle.’
‘You keep saying that’ he retorts, ‘but from where I’m standing all I can see is that you did.’
‘Look, John, just-,’ you sigh, ‘can you come back to bed please?’
His inner turmoil is externalized in the way his face twists up in conflict. He doesn’t want to give in, yet the pleading in your voice broke some of his resolve. Finally, John settles on the edge of the bed, his back to you. He hunches forward, elbows on his knees and hands steepled in a way that makes him look torn between devotion and debate.
You disentangle yourself from the blanket and scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Out of the two of you, you’re not sure who you’re trying to sooth most. The way his breathing deepens tells you that it is working for the both of you.
‘I simply said I thought about having children. It never felt like a necessity, but I wasn’t opposed to the idea either. I’ve always known that it would be a matter of seeing who I was going to spend my life with and how they looked at it. And then I met you… And I just knew. You’re it for me, John. And don’t insult me by telling me that the life I chose for myself, the life that makes me happiest, is me settling.’
You don’t mean for your voice to break by the end, but emotion takes over and you can’t help it. John turns to you in alarm, hand reaching for you but now it’s your turn to draw back.
‘Fuck.’
He crawls further on the bed and settles on his knees in front of you.
‘Sweetheart, goddamit,’ he takes a steadying breath, ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
You’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, in a way that’s reminiscent of something you’ve seen him do a hundred times before. It feels as though there’s a chasm between you of his own making and now, he’s unable to cross it.
‘Didn't you, John? Because right now it feels as though you’re reprimanding me for a choice only I can make.’
‘God, no. It’s just,’ he cups your face and to his relief you let him, ‘I don’t ever want you to wake up one morning only to realize that you signed up for a life you didn’t want. I don’t want ever want to hold you back.’
You turn your head in his hands and press a soft openmouthed kiss to his palm.
‘I want you, John.’
He can see that your eyes have darkened when they look back up at him and he doesn’t miss the double entendre in your words.
‘Okay. Yes, I can work with that.’ he replies with a grin on his face, one that shows that his boyish charm hasn’t yet lost its battle to the passage of time.
‘Didn’t know you’d be so easily persuaded.’ you tease softly.
He crowds you just enough and you land on your back with a soft huff, and he steals the gasp from your lips with his own mouth.
‘Apparently,’ his lips sloppily make their way to your neck, ‘you can be very convincing.’
Your laugh turns into a gasp when he finds your pressure point, and you can feel the bastard smiling against the hollow of your throat.
‘John.’
The way his name falls from your lips is more breath than speech, but he’s heard you, nonetheless.
‘I got you, sweet thing.’
‘Maybe I don’t want children. But I sure do like the practice.’