scurlock | oom: room 25

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oom: room 25

[after this]

Bar takes care of the pile of wet clothes (his duster, jacket, hat, and gloves) for him with a note saying she'd have them laundered, but Doc slings his scarf over his shoulder before he and Miss Katherine head for the stairwell.

He's more focused on not tripping his way up the stairs, even with her arm around his middle, to try and talk much. Thankfully, his door's unlocked, and since he was going away for a spell (even with Bar saying it would be quick) his room is spotless. The desk is neat and organized, the bed made, his laundry done and in the drawers, and the shades half-shut.

"I appreciate this," he says, needlessly.

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"Do forgive me," she murmurs, not sounding terribly apologetic. "You are tired, an' I think maybe your noggin got a little frostbit."

She is still chuckling under her breath, tilting her face up to kiss the corner of his mouth innocently, in a gesture that she's only teasing him.

That makes him smile wider.

"Was wearin' m'hat, have you know."

"You was also soaked to the bone."

Her voice manages a little more quiet concern, and a little less amusement.

He's still shivering a little, and she concentrates on the tremor of his skin under her flattened palm. Her eyes are trained on his face, even though he's not looking back at her. She is examining him for signs of discomfort or illness.

"Mmm."

It's a 'yeah' sort of sound, as he shifts a little and burrows beneath the blankets a bit more, tugging them up around his shoulder on the far side. He's quite for a long few minutes, and with the way his breathing evens out she might even think he's asleep.

Then he speaks again.

"Missed y'while I was gone."

She had begun to wonder if he might have dropped off, though she was nowhere near sleep herself. Her woman's instincts had kicked in to the point where she felt strangely protective of him, as if she was going to have to stand guard over him while he sleeps.

Never mind the clammy feel of his skin when her fingers graze his neck, and that tremble that just will not stop...

She blinks in surprise when he speaks, a smile molding her features.

"Weren't too busy makin' friends with famous lawmen?"

He'd laugh, if he had the energy, but settles for a sharp exhalation though his nose, and his lips twitch into a smirk.

"Wouldn't say we was makin' friends, but we wasn't makin' enemies."

Doc shudders and tugs the blankets closer, again, until they're as close as they can be.

And that's the last straw.

Katherine shifts her body under those blankets, sliding up closer to his form as her arms loop around him. Almost every inch of her front is touching him, down to her very toes as her legs curl against his own.

It certainly isn't proper, as evidenced by the thrill that rips through her stomach and the heat in her face, but it's necessary. That makes it okay.

She buries her face in his neck, head tucked under his chin.

"S'one step up from your last little foray outside."

Doc can't help the shudder that runs down his spine, but it's not from the cold. It is certainly not from the cold. This is certainly not proper.

But that's alright. It's necessary.

He's quiet another few minutes, calming his heartrate down to 'normal' again, before he trails his thumb over her shoulderblade in those slow, easy circles.

"S'true."

The shudder she notices, but has the innocence to not think anything of it other than to attribute it, too, to the cold.

"You okay, baby? Y'need more blankets, or maybe something else hot to drink?"

She shifts her arms around him more tightly, nuzzling against his throat.

"M'fine," he whispers, voice thick, like gritty sandpaper.

Doc swallows calmly as she nuzzles into his throat. Calm is good. Deep breath in, slow exhale out. Later, rinse, repeat.

He seems to tense a little bit, and she notices the steady, controlled pull of his breathing.

"M'sorry," she murmurs, not entirely sure what she's apologizing for.

She shifts away from him a little, on instinct.

He sighs, quietly, mentally kicking himself.

"S'not your fault," he says quietly. "S'just...well...I like you. A lot. An...s'not your fault, when we're together like this, I just can't help but think 'bout...well think 'bout us..."

His voice goes a little bit sheepish.

"...together."

It's almost like she knew what he was going to say before he ever said it. She doesn't flinch away, or blush, or act awkward at the words. She simply soaks them in, quietly.

She is picking absently at the sleeve of his thermal, eyes on her fingers as they move across the fabric restlessly.

She can't get her voice to work. There are too many thoughts in her head.

She remembers Lady Dem's encouragement not to wait too long, if she truly loves Doc.

She remembers Ben's words, to take things slow and not rush into another mistake.

There are catches of conversations with Fira in her head, things Will's Kate has told her, those secret smiles and the glint in his eyes whenever Will was near her, and beyond it all, above it all, louder than it all

is the beat of her heart. It's not fast, or uneven, or threatening to burst its way out of her chest. It's steady, deep. It's even. It's focused.

When it comes down to it, she just can't say anything to him, because ultimately...

She thinks about it too.

His thumb is still tracing patterns on her shoulder blade, as his breathing calms and his heart rate settles. They're adults. And for all the awkward conversations he's had with women (which when he counts, there really haven't been that many, as most of them were already used to the idea of sex) they're never easy but...they're part of the relationship process.

Doc bites his lip and then opens his eyes, and looks at the ceiling, the patterns the moonlight is casting across the room.

Her fingers are brushing along his sleeve and he can feel every tiny motion of her delicate fingertips, and his mind can't help but think...

He pulls in another deep before he sighs, before he presses his lips to the top of her head and kisses her hair.

"I love you. But I'll never rush y'into anything."

She knows. She isn't scared, or upset, or nervous. She isn't worried.

"I know."

There's a beat between them.

She shifts her body slowly, rolling onto her back. Her face stays tilted towards his, and her right hand stays curled against the fabric of his shirt.

She's looking at him, and she's tugging gently.

When she moves away from him, Doc almost lets his face break, until he feels her tugging on his shirt.

He looks at her, furrowing his brow slightly, before he shifts so he's lying on his side and comes closer, his face just inches from hers.

"Darlin'," he starts, slowly and carefully, suddenly a little bit nervous as he moves a hand to her arm. He clears his throat, but can't find words.

There's a tremble in her stomach, and she doesn't move.

Not even the hand curled against him moves an inch.

Her voice doesn't quite work the first time she opens her mouth, so she clears her throat quietly and tries again:

"Yes?"

"I know...I know a lot of the stuff I've done ain't savory," he says quietly. "And I know that sometimes I ain't the most simple man on the face of this earth...heck, I know I git myself into trouble in all sorts of earths, thanks t'this place..."

Get on with it, Josiah.

Doc nods slightly.

"I just...hell, Kate, I love you. Ain't no other woman that makes me feel like you do. An' no matter what happens outside that door...outside this room...I know that you're..."

He lifts his eyes to hers, and studies her face a minute.

John would have loved her.

"You're the one I wanna be with for the long haul. The only one."

And he would have been proud of me.

For all her calm, all her control and the feat she managed in not getting her feathers ruffled up to this point, it all goes rushing away from her in a sudden, cold gust, and in its stead there is a thrill in her belly and a tremble in her legs.

Her heart starts to pound.

"What're you sayin'?"

She shifts her body carefully, eyes locked on his as their faces come closer together.

"Y'sayin' y'wanna run away with me, or... are you tellin' me that you wanna see me in some little church, dressed in white?

"You wanna hear me say 'I do,' Doc?"

His voice is a million miles away - lying in the hot desert sun somewhere outside a mud-brick adobe cabin, pockmarked with bullet holes, blood soaked sand just outside that front door - and for all he tries, he can't quite seem to quell the rapid beating of his heart.

Doc nods.

"Yeah."

It comes out raspy and ragged, before he swallows and nods again.

"Yeah. Eventually...I want y'to say that."

Her vision grows hot and a little blurred.

She lets out a slow breath, not even realizing she had been holding it.

She is ignoring the twin tears creeping their way through her scalp, bleeding from the corners of her eyes.

"Doc."

That's all her throat can get out before it goes too tight, and she's afraid to speak.

So she communicates through her eyes, and the way her fist tightens around that wad of fabric, still clutched in her fingertips.

"Y'don't gotta answer right now."

He's nervous. He's so goddamn nervous and scared and he can't remember the last time he felt so damn young, but he forces the edge down into the deepest pit of his stomach and then he reaches his hand up, thumb brushing away those tears.

Don't let me fuck this up don't let me fuck this up don't let me

He swallows, a growing lump in his throat, then covers her hand with his own.

"Y'don't gotta answer right now."

She is having trouble pulling in a deep breath, her heart pounding so hard now that it's making her vision jump. She can't take her eyes off him, though. She can't stop replaying his words in her head.

"Y'don't gotta answer right now."

She sits up a bit suddenly, golden hair hanging around her face in a messy curtain. She stares at the foot of the bed as she tries to catch her breath.

If she just knew what the question was...

(Her hand is still resting underneath his own.)

When she sits up, he sits up too, shoving himself up and moving to wrap an arm around her shoulders after he strokes her hair back a few times.

"I meant it. I want y'to marry me someday, Kate. I want that. But I ain't gonna rush you into nothin' an' that includes answerin' me. I ain't gonna be mad if y'can't right now."

I know you have to go home.

Doc squeezes her hand gently, hoping to be encouraging. He loves her. No matter what she says, he will still love her just the same.

She closes her eyes, lips parted as she tries to fill her starving lungs. She shakes her head in slight, quick motions.

She turns her face to look at him, but when she does, she can't quite focus on his eyes. Her focus goes to his mouth, instead.

"I love you, Josiah Gordon Scurlock."

It really isn't some big mystery. Not at this point. She loves him, and he knows she loves him, just like she knows he loves her.

It's her next words that make her have to pause, and pull in a deep breath before speaking.

"And I want you to make me your wife."

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