| Details for Sink or Swim |
| Summary: | Niamh has a surprise for Gideon, and the couple once again struggle with desire vs. responsibility. (Mature content…you pervs.) |
| Date: | 5 October, 1937 |
| Location: | {$location} |
| Related: | Immediately follows The Power of Words; Immediately followed by Fancy Dinner Date |
| Characters |
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Upstairs in Niamh's small and immaculately clean flat, there is a kettle that sits upon the gas stove in the kitchen. Nothing seems out of place, but there are a couple of things that do speak of living- cookies on the coffee table, magazines and bags that announce their purchases are from Harrod's. To look inside, dress boxes, shoe boxes, hat boxes.. and there are more than a few bags. In that same corner, there's a .. guitar that leans in a darker corner, a little bow on it, and a neat, handwritten name: Adamantus.
It doesn't take Niamh long to properly lock up the shop downstairs, and to turn down the gaslights such that it's dimly lit but not black. Her footfalls on the stairs announces her arrival long before the door opening does. Upon entering, she closes the door behind her, and she seems in a much better mood. "Done.. an' tea, I think?"
By the time Niamh comes in, Gideon is already seated on the couch, tuning the guitar in his lap. He looks up at her entrance, smiling warmly. "You're a fine woman, Niamh O'Shea. I'm sure I dinnae tell you enough." He plays a rising scale of notes, nodding appreciative at the sound. "Barely needed tuning at all."
"Then it's a good one," Niamh teases. She knows music, even if she can't play; she can sing. "I'm glad ye like it." Her tones lower, and while her tones may not 'go there', her words might? "So ye don't have t'bring your guitar here when ye come and visit. One less thing for ye to carry." She does look pleased, however, at the compliment, and it puts something of a bounce into her step, bringing her into the kitchen to warm the kettle. "If it barely needed tuning, I should be hearin' something from y'soon?"
Gideon laughs softly, nodding. "Right you are." That's his cue! "Do you know this one?" He starts to pluck the first notes of an Irish ballad, The Water is Wide. "The water is wide…I can't cross over…and neither have…I wings to fly…"
Niamh stands at the spot where kitchen and sitting room meet, and watches him, her expression one of decided affection. Her voice rises slowly, in time, and in a harmony with his own rather than taking the prime melody, "Build me a boat that can carry two… And both shall row, my true love and I." At the line, she pinkens a little, but takes the opportunity to cross the small distance, without the tea (the water's not yet boiling!), and sit on the arm of the chair beside Gideon. "A ship there is and she sails the seas… An' she's laden deep, as deep can be.."
Gideon smiles brightly as she sings, and soon joins his voice to hers. "But not so deep as the love I'm in…I know not how I sink or swim." Even he is struck by the lyrics, and finds himself swimming…sinking…in her hazel eyes. "And love is handsome, and love is fine…The sweetest flower when first it's new. But love grows old, and waxes cold…and fades away like summer dew."
Niamh sings along, taking the harmony, and as they begin to reach the last verse, she's got an urge to give Gideon a playful shove in complaint of those last bits. She laughs, and puts a hand out to do just that, though she doesn't lose her voice in it. When it's done, it's as if the day's troubles simply .. never happened. There's a gentle lightness there, and the smile Gideon gives is reflected in equal measure in return. "Jus' wonderful, Adamantus.. jus' grand. I could spend all the hours of m'day listenin' to ye sing, and addin' my voice when I can."
Gideon laughs, rumbling through the last verse when she shoves him. But his eyes never leave her. As he strums the last notes, he sets the guitar aside. "Aye, and your voice is welcome. I think mine's been missing something for a while. Now I know what it was." Feeding off of her playful mood, he curls an around around her waist, and tugs her off of the arm of the chair, right into his lap, the cheeky bastard.
Niamh squeaks as she's pulled into his lap, and a playful laugh exits. "What, a new guitar?" She has a good idea of what he's saying, but of course she's going to tease him. She simply can't take her eyes off of him, the feel of his arm about her, and most importantly, the gleam in his eye, the laugh in his voice. Even if she is off-balance; at least there's no flailing! She's trusting in his support, or she'd be dumped onto the floor! "You're soundin' just fine, Adamantus. It's my pleasure t'sing to the heavens with ye.."
That voice, from those lips. He must claim them. Gideon keeps her dipped and off-balance, but his arm supporting her back, as he leans over to claim those lips. "A fine woman," he repeats between kisses. "And a fine guitar. I dinnae ken how I got by without it," he teases, tickling at her side.
Niamh squeaks again as she tries to gain a little balance, but it's not to be. Instead, she's kissed, which gives her the opportunity to wrap her arms around the back of his neck, returning the kisses. "I do.. you're a strong man- Aiee.. Adamantus!" Ticklish! She giggles and now she begins to flail; not very seductive, certainly. She makes sure that she doesn't hurt him, but she's wriggling now, trying to escape from the tickles- not that she minds it, or is mad. Not in the least! "Tha's not fair!"
Gideon laughs, easing up and just holding her around the waist now. He doesn't look especially contrite, but maybe she'll forgive him for more kisses. It's worth a try!
A happy laugh sounds in echo of his, and Niamh tries to regain a little bit of dignity in the face of the un-contrite Gideon. She tries, she really does, try to look disappointed, but she barks a laugh and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself up a little and back into some semblance of balance. "A cruel man.. an' irresistible. Here I am, back an' in range o'those fingers again." Those hands.. what she wouldn't give.. easy there, girl! "Now.." and she leans in for those kisses, the playful attitude dangerously close to shifting into something a little more.. serious? Passionate? How she wants him!
Those fingers are curls around her, splayed out on her back, roaming…but just a little, despite his impulse to roam quite a bit more. Gideon shuts his eyes, deliberately losing himself in the moment. Swim, Gideon. Don't drown. She deserves better. He leans back in his seat and pulls her up against him, so she is nearly lounging upon his chest. The light weight of her is reassuring…and exciting.
Breathe! So very exhilarating, and she can feel his heart pounding, can almost hear it in her ears. Or is that the blood rushing through hers with the beating of her own heart? Her own eyes are shut, and she can feel herself sinking into his embrace, his kisses so dizzying, so heady! It's as if she's had glass after glass of whiskey, she's getting so giddy in his kisses. As he shifts, his hands move to pull her against him, and she so willingly follows, her hand lying now pressed against his chest. Her voice is hoarse, a whisper, "Ye are driving me mad, Adamantus.. absolutely insane."
Gideon's chest rises and falls heavily, his heart drumming that resonant beat. When she speaks, he presses his forehead to hers, taking that moment to breathe, speak, and try to latch on to his last thread of reason in the face of overwhelming desire. "We cannae keep doing this…if we're trying to keep our heads."
Niamh groans softly, and when their foreheads meet, she exhales softly and nods. "I know.. an' I'm not willin' t'give this up, though." Which doesn't give an answer to their quandary. "But ye make me warm down to my core," and she takes hold of his hand to bring it around to lay it upon her flat stomach before she lifts it to her lips. "These hands.." and her tones sound.. longing, "I dream o'them.."
Gideon lets out a shuddering breath. How is he supposed to keep control when she says such things? He's trying so very hard to be good, to show her the respect she deserves. But she makes it so difficult! His hand goes to her neck, sinking into her hair to cradle her head. "You…should nae talk like that…"
Niamh looks into his eyes, and there's that streak of defiance in the face of his hoarse words. She lets go of his hand in order for him to cradle her, but it doesn't keep her from turning her head to kiss his hand again. "I know I shouldn't, an' ye'll think the worst of me.. but it's the God's honest truth, an' I'll not go to my grave with the confession unspoken." Or be returned to her parents' house. "I know ye feel as I do," her voice continues its whispers, words just for him. "If we keep this way, we'll not be able t'be alone wi'each other until.." When? ".. ever." She swallows hard, and lifts a hand to caress his cheek, "I don't know if it'd make it better or worse for us.." Better in that it may be easier to temper their desires, or.. worse? Make them want each other all the more, now that their dams have burst?
Gideon shakes his head, "I cannae think less of you for saying what we both feel." As in previous interludes, a moment to speak and breathe has give him focus and mental clarity. At least, enough of it to grasp that thread of reason. "I want to do this right." His hand comes to brush stray hairs from her face, his calloused palm brushing over her cheek. "I came by to take you out tonight." He glances toward the shopping bags. "I'm going to guess that you may have something new that's suitable to wear." He smirks, imagining Edwarlinda foisting dress after dress upon Niamh to try on.
A soft groan exits Niamh, and she's ready to scream to heaven and bare her breasts, and see if that in anyway helps. It'd sure make her feel better! Still, her words are a little less.. dramatic, as is her movements. Another rejection, after a fashion, even if for the best of reasons.. "Aye.." She straightens in his lap, and her cheeks are still flushed with the need, the desire, and she has to take things slowly.. "Lindy and I went shopping yesterday.. an' there are a few things." She smiles and the expression is a bit lopsided, "No hope of my lookin' like her in it all, but I won't embarrass ye on your arm." A soft whistle escapes, "An'.. ye never want t'go shopping with her. As fun as it was, an' aye it was.. there wasn't a rack that didn't get looked at."
Gideon chuckles, carefully moving Niamh's legs around to give her purchase on the floor. "No, you wouldn't look a thing like her. As pretty as she is, the poor lassie cannae hope to compare to an angel like you."
Oh Gideon, you're a cruel, cruel man… Niamh is shifted, and she sits where she is for another long heartbeat or three. She looks to Gideon at his words, and she quirks her head, an 'aaaaaaw' expression coming to her face, though she does manage, "You're sweet.." and she leans in to give him a kiss. "An'.. are we goin' somewhere for it, or the pub?"
Gideon had planned on standing, but she's still sitting. Darn. He'll just have to kiss her some more. "Someplace new. The pub is no place for a fine dinner. I did warn you I'd take you somewhere fancy now and then."
Now Niamh finally rises to her feet, albeit slowly and carefully so as not to fall over with her weakened knees. "So I suppose I should get ready.. an'.." they'll be leaving her flat. Oh, now she doesn't want the evening to end as that would mean that he.. goes home. For shame! Thinkin' of the end of the date rather than the beginning? "I'll be right back.." Thank god.. out of these clothes, but.. there's no time to dally.. as much as she wants to. And taking up those Harrod's bags now, she walks into her bedroom and closes the door. Not until it latches mind.. but closed enough.
Gideon rises, and straightens himself out a bit. He's still wearing his suit from work. Nice enough for a romantic dinner, though now a bit rumpled due to a certain couple pawing at one another. His eyes drift to the bedroom door, noting as it gently slips ajar, the latch not having clicked shut. An invitation? There is no doubt that she would welcome him coming in after her. She said as much. But, tempting as it is, Gideon suppresses his desire. This must be done right. If she is to give herself to him like that, he must earn it with more than a song and some heavy petting on the couch. So…not now. But then, who knows where dinner may lead?