Breathing by vision

Breathing
by
� vision_wolfe

Grace wrinkled her nose at the smell of the brew in her paper cup. She inhaled
and looked suspiciously at Pete, sitting across the table-he looked amused as he
urged her to take a sip.

"Just try it, I promise it won�t bite." He smiled and tipped her cup toward her lips. "Well, it hasn�t bitten me, yet, in any case."

She looked skeptical, took a deep breath, and sipped. It was bittersweet, with a
tang like autumn air. She smiled at Pete and admitted, "Okay, so you were right,
Chai tea is pretty good...different, but delicious." She took another sip and savored.

"It�s a lot like you, then." He smiled slowly.

She blushed and ducked her head, her cheeks turning pink and hot in the air conditioned cafe. "Nothing wrong with different, hon."

She looked up quickly and grinned. "Thank goodness. So okay, now I�ve admitted I like Chai tea, are you going to try my roasted peppers? They�re Italian-be patriotic."

Grace liked to tease Pete about his loathing of vegetables in general, and anything that wasn�t potatoes, in particular. Being mostly a vegetarian, she had a hard time leaving vegetables out of the conversation. She admitted to being a rabbit in human form, and Pete confessed that his basic carnivore diet might change when his basketball team moved from Boston to Mars.

Half Irish and half Italian, Pete was a curious mix of unrestrained laughter and private brooding, of passionate enthusiasm for the Celtics and the dry wit of the typified Irishman.

He took everything and nothing seriously, including Grace�s good-natured digs
about his eating habits.

"Roast potatoes in garlic and we have a deal," he said wryly, "but if you sneak in anything green, we�re going to have words." He smiled and put out a hand. "Deal?"

Grace giggled into her cup and gulped Chai tea. "Deal. You�re gonna eat those words." She took his hand and shook it once, firmly " And you�ll love every single bite, I promise...if not, I�ll eat cauliflower with beet puree." She hated both veggies with a passion, and he knew it. Grace waggled her eyebrows like Groucho Marx. He smiled and wagged a finger at her. She stuck out her tongue at him. He burst out laughing. Pete�s company brought out the wit she�d kept under cover for so long.

She finished the last of the tangy tea and stood, looking out the window at the pounding rain, falling straight from Heaven to Earth like a kid dumping a plastic
pail that was too heavy for him to carry. Well, she thought, it�s true, Seattle is the rainiest place in the civilized world. Good thing I love the rain. She picked up her raincoat and grinned at Pete. "Ready to brave the Great Flood?"

He flicked a glance out the window and said with deadpan grace, "The Ark�s double parked, let�s go." Grace snorted with laughter, her brown eyes sparkling. "I�m sure the penguins are restless." Pete chuckled and took her hand, and they walked out into the Seattle downpour.

After a dinner conspicuously absent of vegetables, Grace and Pete walked the neighborhood, talking about this and that and laughing about nearly everything.
They talked about his education and hers, their families, television, people they
knew and adventures they�d had.. She was animated and silly and full of words,
and he was alternately verbose and silent, seeming to pay attention to every word
she said and to delight in her company. Seeming, Grace thought to herself, only because I�m not used to it anymore-somehow I lost the ability to like my own words. Does it matter? she thought as she told Pete a silly story from a book she�d read. I guess not...since I feel like I�ve known him forever...but god, I�m babbling!

"I�m babbling, I�m sorry, Pete...I seem to be unable to stop myself," she interrupted herself and looked at him, a little embarrassed. It was because she was nervous, and he looked like he knew it. He was smiling at her as if she were a little kid instead of twenty-eight.

"You�re not babbling, hon-I�m just wondering why you�re nervous. There�s no
reason to be."

Grace shrugged. "Not used to talking and being heard, I guess."

Pete put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "I hear you, I promise." His blue-gray gaze made her at once calm and unsettled . She smiled around her jitters and they walked on, Pete telling her about his first attempt at dating, and his best friend at school, and for the rest of the walk she just shut herself up and listened. She kept reminding herself to breathe, just one at a time, slowly...it chased away the butterflies in her stomach.

Back at the front door, they stood on the porch and just looked at the rain, lighter now, like someone misting the world with a spray bottle. Grace�s favorite kind of rain. "...perfect to make love under," she said softly, and then immediately wanted
to have a bolt of lightning send her and her big mouth right through the earth to
Oz. She flinched and prayed Pete wasn�t listening, but of course, he was. His
mouth above the small goatee curved into a grin. He had rain sparkling in his
dark straight hair. "Yup, perfect, " he agreed. She looked long at his face and
decided it wasn�t the end of the world after all. He was smiling, and he didn�t seem embarrassed-that was her problem. He held the door for her as they went inside. Fawlty Towers was on and they were both addicted to Jon Cleese.

Flopped on the couch and laughing like mad, Grace had to admit she felt okay. Making friends this quickly wasn�t something she was used to, but it didn�t seem
like a bad idea this time. When she�d spotted him at the grocery store, she�d liked
him immediately. They�d both reached for the same chili pepper , and then had a Chip and Dale moment. "...After you...no, after you, I insist...no, after you..." and finally they�d each reached over and taken a different pepper, each handing it to
the other in a gesture of surrender.

They�d both gotten the giggles, and the produce manager had looked at them so
oddly that they�d decided to leave the peppers alone and just go.

"A narrow escape from Produce Purgatory." Grace had chuckled as the man with
the rich voice and gorgeous eyes held the door for her and she slipped past him.
He�d laughed and agreed that they were lucky to escape without the intervention
of the Pepper Police...and things had gotten sillier from there. One of them referred to penguins, and twenty minutes later they were leaning against his car, having exchanged penguin jokes and Bloom County memories, as well as names and phone numbers.

Grace thought seriously of taking herself to Emergency to have the Permagrin removed, and Pete tried to remember the last time he had laughed so hard. Then
poof, the words escaped him before the thought was finished, and he asked her out for a beer. She�d just stood there and grinned, and he thought she was going to refuse because she had a religious objection to meeting men over vegetables- a
polite way to extricate herself from the situation. But she�d looked at him with
merry brown eyes and said, "I can�t resist a man who�d give the Grocery Gestapo
the slip. Let�s go have a beer, Pete."

That, as they say, was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Grace and Pete laughed and joked and flirted their way to relative comfort with each other, developing their own language and an ease of communication that made him
seem like he�d always been a part of the picture. Over the weeks they saw each
other more and more often, talked on the phone, and then one sunny afternoon as
she was watching Pete read the paper, she realized how important he had become
to her.

It had come upon her like a cat, creeping slowly into her range of vision until it seemed like it had never been any other way. She was staring as she thought, and
Pete looked up from the sports page, his long legs draped in effortless grace over
the arm of the overstuffed chair. He smiled at her in curiosity.

"What is it , Grace? " he grinned " have I got broccoli in my teeth again?" she snickered at the vegetable reference that was becoming a habit. Embarrassed to
be caught staring, she went the safest route-exaggerate the truth and be funny. "Actually, I was thinking of naming our kids after the Celtics basketball team.
"She made a silly face and waggled her eyebrows at him. He burst out laughing
and shook his head.

"I�ll name �em all after the Sonics, if they lose again tomorrow. Rat bastards,"
he said with amused annoyance. Grace smiled and picked up the comics. Safe
again, she thought ruefully. Thank God. She buried her nose in Calvin and Hobbes and peeked occasional glances at him over the paper. He looked so contented she wanted to hug him, but she also didn�t want to disturb him. So she just read and laughed and told him some of the punch lines to be saved for later use. She was really beginning to like lazy Sundays.

Four days later, Pete watched as she puttered around his kitchen while he sat on
the floor, going through his CD�s. The Cowboy Junkies had captured Grace�s imagination, and she sang as she put together a salad for herself and waited for Pete�s chili to heat up. Absorbed, she paid no notice while he watched her tuck her long dark hair behind her ears. The light in the kitchen made the red in her hair come out and catch his eye. Her small hands kept busy with chopping cucumbers, and Pete caught himself wondering what those hands would feel like on his skin, and what her mouth would feel like if he kissed her. A smile played around his lips and then disappeared. Hell, she was just a friend, that�s how she thought of him and that�s how he wanted it-right? He shrugged to himself and went back to the CD�s. The rain made raucous music in the roof, and he thought of her earlier comment, his mind leaping to see them together in his bed...the rain on the roof...his mouth on hers...her legs wrapped around his hips...he stopped the train of thought and shook himself back to reality.

Grace noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to face him.
"You okay, Sceppers?" She called him the nickname everyone used, but with her
own addition to his last name, Sceppi. She looked momentarily concerned. He
smiled and pushed his thoughts away. "Just fine, hon, thanks. Hungry." Very, very hungry, he thought, looking at her bright eyes and tousled hair, her legs in the
jeans she seemed to live in.

"Supper�s coming up." She smiled at him and laughed. "I promise you won�t starve while I�m around."

"Depends what I want to eat, hon." The words left his mouth before he realized he�d said them aloud.

He took a deep breath, ready to take the words back if she was offended.

She looked at him in confusion. "Hmm? Sorry, I was a little preoccupied." He
smiled in both amusement and relief, and breathed a sigh. "Nothing."

"Okay." She turned back to supper and singing. Pete congratulated himself on narrowly avoiding putting both feet in his mouth and ruining a perfectly good friendship for the possibility of sex. He�d been burned before, and wasn�t in a
hurry to ruin a good thing. He felt a momentary sense of regret and brushed it
away like a cobweb from a dusty attic. Some things are better left alone, he thought to himself. It was better not to confuse things...but at the moment he wanted very badly to be confused in that manner.

Supper was a delight, seeing as Pete hadn�t had to cook. He grinned and wolfed
the chili-Grace attacked her salad with an enjoyment she hadn�t felt in ages. She talked as she ate, pausing to answer questions about her life with her ex, and her
old job as a karaoke jockey.

"It was a little like an adult version of Romper Room, but it paid the bills, " she laughed " and some of the patrons were so bad I thought about committing myself
to the nearest mental institution for aural torture therapy." Grace waved her fork
in circles at the side her head in the these-people-were-lacking-in-sanity gesture.
"If I ever hear "My Way" again I might go completely postal."

Pete chuckled. He liked the way she had with words, painting him a vivid picture
of falling-down drunks trying to be the next Madonna. "Remind me to invite you to Karaoke next week." He smirked and took the last bite of his chili. She tossed a
piece of lettuce at him and growled in play, then blew a raspberry at him. "Sadist."

He looked thoughtful and considered before he asked the next question. Somehow
it seemed important. "Why did you leave him, Grace? Five years is a long time."
He looked straight at her and waited with in held breath for an answer. She sighed, a noisy exhalation that told more than she knew. "He...well..." She shrugged one shoulder in a gesture that was purely hers. "He had some problems I couldn�t deal with." Her face closed, but not before a telling expression of pain crossed her small face. Pete had a sudden flash of insight. "He didn�t touch you, did he?" he asked in a quiet voice. "That�s why you like it when I hug you..he never did..." Pete trailed off, thinking he had tread where he shouldn�t. But he understood, more than she could guess.

Grace closed her eyes in resignation and something like defeat. "No,"she admitted softly, "he hated to be touched...was badly abused as a kid, and never learned...I thought I could help..." she shrugged again, shaking it off and reaching for her
beer glass. "I was wrong." She smiled around haunted eyes that made him hurt
with recognition and then raised the glass in salute. "On to better things, Pete."

He nodded and took a sip of his own beer, letting the subject drop and going on to
tell her of his silly adventures in school. He told her about jumping naked into the fountain at Princeton, and her riotous laughter made him feel he was forgiven for scraping at old wounds. She laughed and teased him and didn�t mention it again,
and neither did he.

The next morning he went for his daily run, and while he ran around Lake Washington, he thought circles around their conversation. Grace was a lovely
woman and she made him laugh...she had her own troubles, and he had his...a girlfriend he�d loved, who had spent most of her time ignoring him, doing her own thing, seeming not to care if he was there or not...taking time with her friends and family and rarely deigning to acknowledge him as her boyfriend...he�d made love
to her, but she never seemed fulfilled or happy, and so he tried harder and so did she...and nothing happened, and the relationship died the kind of fading death
that made him think that they were all destined to end like that...the specter of a
love that was, turning to a shadow and then, nothing.

He ran hard, trying to outrun himself and the images in his head of Grace
laughing, smiling, hugging him with something so close to gratitude that it made
him ache inside, because it was so familiar.

Did he want her? Yes, he had to admit he did. And that was the problem. He
wasn�t willing to hurt her or himself, and there was no guarantee it was going to
go anywhere...or that she would want him in return. Pete, are there ever any guarantees? He asked himself the question just as he arrived at his front door
and leaned against it, thinking.

No. There never are. Now what? He sighed and admitted he had no answer to that one, either. He frowned at himself and went inside, vowing not to think about it any more. What was the point? It wasn�t an issue, anyway.

He opened the front door and left it hanging while he searched for the paper...
damn, the neighbors took off with it again. He looked up when he heard a snort
of laughter. There was Grace, standing in the sun with his paper, waving it at him like a flag. "Looking for this, sweetie?" She giggled. "I filched the funny papers."
Pete winked at her. "You�re cute in thief�s clothing."

She giggled. "I was a sheep in my last life, thought I�d give this a try."

"A life of crime doesn�t suit you."

"It doesn�t go with the flower child image, does it?"

"Nope. You�re the peace and love type all the way, hon." He smiled warmly and
went down the steps to hug her. She giggled and hugged him happily.

"I�m just your basic marshmallow. Soft and squishy as the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Dude."

He stepped back and looked at her. "Much more attractive than that, love." He
smiled, and she blushed and looked at the ground. "Not bad, just drawn that way." She took a movie line she liked and felt the heat rush to her cheeks. He was making her think things she was trying to avoid.

She wanted him with a force that made her shake inside. She walked quickly up
the steps and into the house. "Chai, Pete, that�s what I need." She said it brightly, with too much emphasis. She felt like she was burning from the inside out. He followed her into the house and closed the door. He was feeling the heat of her
body seep into him from that hug...and it was making him unsteady. He leaned against the door for a minute and closed his eyes. When he opened them, she was looking at him intently, curious and wondering.

"Grace..." His voice was intense and he was afraid to say more.

She looked at him. Just looked. Concentrating all her attention on him so that he
felt it like a laser beam straight to his heart.

"Pete..." She stopped. There was a silence of a moment that felt like a millennium.

"You don�t need tea, Grace...you need to be touched...held...desired..." His voice
was ragged around the edges and he couldn�t believe he was doing this to himself.

She was walking toward him. She stopped directly in front of him, her eyes huge.
She put her hands on either side of the wall behind him, leaned in close enough
that he could hear the soft intake of her breath. "Yes," she breathed against his
mouth before he kissed her, deep and soft and as hungry as she was.

The kiss went on and on, and it was like being given a long, cool drink of water
after a time of deep thirst. He took her hands in his and spun her slowly around,
so that her back was to the wall. His mouth was soft and hot and his tongue played lazily with hers, as if they had all the time in the world, when her body was
throbbing with want. She forced herself to slow her breathing, to relax into the moment, to savor the kiss and the feel of his hands holding hers. She moaned
softly against his mouth and he broke the kiss and looked at her. His eyes were
like arrows, intense and totally focused.

I want to take you upstairs and make love with you, Grace.." Pete�s voice sent electricity straight to the center of her being and she gasped. She nodded and
looked at him. "Lead the way, Pete...I want to make love with you, too. So very
much." She smiled with relief at being able to say it aloud.

Pete took her hand and led her silently up the stairs, stopping several times to kiss
her with a passion that made her hold her breath. In his room, there was nothing
but the rustle of falling clothing as they undressed each other, and the sound of
breath drawn in and soft sighs as he kissed her until she felt drunk. She feasted on
his mouth, his jaw, the hollow in his throat as her hands stroked every bit of his
skin she could...they fell onto the bed and his mouth began a concentrated inventory of her body, kissing her throat and collarbone, licking here and there as he moved, wanting to taste every inch of her while she moaned her delight into his ears. Her hands rested at his shoulders, stroked his hair, every movement giving and intense as she told him with her soft cries and loud gasps how much she wanted him. Pete was wild with need, but having too much fun tasting Grace�s skin to want to hurry any of it. His tongue made its way down her belly and dipped teasingly into her navel. She gasped and laughed aloud.

Pete smiled and moved up along her body to cover it with his own, kissing her with tender passion as he held her. Grace gasped and moved beneath him, accepting him as if he had come home at last. They made music as they made love, and there was something tangible in the air as they moved.

They stayed together, climbing the mountain of desire and reaching the peak with cries of delight. Pete held Grace and they lay quiet and happy, saying nothing for
the moment. They had spoken all they needed to with their bodies. Grace took a
deep breath and snuggled close to Pete, thinking.

Pete sighed contentedly, and realized that it was raining again. He heard the music
of drops on the roof and smiled- next time they�d make love outside, where he could watch the drops fall on her skin as he loved her. Rain. Perfect to make love under.

Sometimes, loving was as easy as breathing.