#so he went to bed and I watched alien 2 (aliens) and was underwhelmed.

[neverendingford]

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[kaitkerrigan]

HOW TO RETURN HOME - The Millennial Problem

I really pushed myself into a corner this weekend when I promised a teacher that I’d write about “How to Return Home”. Most of you don’t know the history of this song, which is a pandora’s box. 

I’ve long been planning to write a post about THE FRESHMAN EXPERIMENT. At the time of conception, this is how we defined it: 

living musical ['liv[ng] 'myü-zi-k&l]

a musical based on the lives of living people

a musical existing in real time

a musical created on the internet by the award-winning writing team Kerrigan and Lowdermilk based on the lives of two young bloggers as they share the story of their freshman years of college 

I’ll leave it at that for now and come back to this in depth in another post. 

ChristineCoke, the handle of one of the freshman writers, was an incredible voice. She wrote these earnest and beautiful posts that flowed into some of my favorite songs that we’ve ever written:  Last Week’s Alcohol My Heart Is Split (and you guessed it) How to Return Home. 

It’s funny how memory works. I had created a fiction about exactly what we got from ChristineCoke when she first wrote about going back to her home for Thanksgiving break, but I just went back to our website archive and found this (and everything else you’re about to dig into): 

I pulled my luggage into a house that is exactly how I’d left it - dirty and empty with a silence that gently hummed in my ears. There was no one to greet me so I ran up the stairs calling out the names of my siblings and mothers. More silence and peeling wallpaper.

And this is how I wanted to return home. My barefeet sliding along the wood floors as my cat criss crosses her way through my legs. To sit on my bed and wrap myself up in the thin blanket that could barely warm me during the winter months. Slowly, I came back into a place that I hadn’t truly thought about until I was five minutes away.

Eventually my brothers and sisters came filtering in and our home had a pulse again. Then Mamajay came and I ran to her before she had time to open the door.

I had a three minute fight with my brother today. It feels great to be here.

A couple weeks after this first post, Brian posted this - with audio that I can’t find: 

hey it’s brian. so i wrote this thing while i was home for thanksgiving and didn’t have a chance to post it until now. i played it for kait at some point and she was pretty underwhemed - possibly for good reason. the lyrics aren’t great, and they depart a lot from what CC was talking about. but this is emotionally what spoke to me, and i think the music might be interesting. (sidebar: lots of time kait and i start out with a song that i write music and lyrics to and then she swoops in and redoes the lyric) So these may be dummy lyric, and i may also just start from scratch musically on something else. Particularly because while I was home for t-giving my sister and i listened to a lot of dashboard confessional. so in addition to a) being a song fragment and b) not very good, this is also potentially c) a little too much like a dashboard song. wow. yea. but i definitely think there’s something to be done w/ the phrase “How To Return Home.” And this is certainly something…

“I’m pulling my luggage into a house that is dirty and empty A house that is just how I’d left it Dirty and empty and silent. A silence that’s gently humming in my ears. And I’m waiting for you to come rush down the stairs. I’m calling, I’m waiting, I’m watching the driveway. Hoping that something is still the same. I’m calling, I’m calling your name.

I guess I’m learning How long I’ve been gone I guess I’d forgotten I miss these walls Now I’m relearning everything All about silence And how to return home”

Brian says I was underwhelmed but it was a long time ago, so I don’t actually remember. Isn’t it weird to imagine the songs that never were? I bet that my response was more to the music than to the lyric. As he said, I often would change the lyrics anyway. I do remember both of us really struggling over how to use the hook. How do you put “how to return home” into a sentence. It sounds like a recipe title, not a song hook. I remember really arguing over how it could function in the song. 

Anyway, the next significant step was Brian again and this wasn’t until February (so I bet we had some off-line conversations): 

Okay, so here’s a new version of How To Return Home I’m trying, music first. There’s a PDF and a terrible scratch vocal of me singing. Not sure how much this will mean to anyone, but hopefully Kait will write some lyrics - and then the whole thing will mean a bit more!Happy February everybody…

He posted music that is EXACTLY the music that makes up the verse and chorus of the song now. That is magic to me. It’s one thing to piece together the perfect words, but to somehow knit together the language of a melody into something iconic and memorable - and in one go? How do you do that??? 

Then the writing started to pick up speed. A week later also in February I posted this: 

Here are the lyrics to at least the first draft of the beginning of “How to Return Home”:

Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards, Home at last and silent but still you’re shaken, like walking into a museum, somehow out of time. It’s all the same except the girl in the hallway, Where she’s been and who she will ripen into, Your childhood’s on the other side of a gulf to damn wide to climb.

Take silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. It’s the only way you’ll get through this holiday. Count the hours. Pick some flowers. Make a nice bouquet.

Clearly, the dumby lyrics come at the end, but I’m still not sure about the entire chorus. I’m kind of thinking that it probably changes based on whatever happens at the end of the chorus. Plus, it has to work throughout the song, right Bri? This probably doesn’t change each time since it’s such a pop chorus. Perhaps 2 lines change - the “it’s the only way to get through…” which I would assume will change too. And I’m pretty sold that we want something more like “get through this day” with the three notes on day.

Anyway, this is where the song is at currently. Updates to arrive throughout the weekend. I think I’ll have the whole thing done by Sunday or Monday at the latest.

You guys, this is where you get to see our baby pictures - or my baby pictures. I vlogged this lyric in 2008, so quite literally ten years ago. Kudos for me for not giving a good goddamn about my hair or anything. This was before the days of vloggers really. We were early adopters to be sure and so I had little awareness of the idea that looking presentable might be, er, helpful to our cause. 

Oh my god, did you watch it? Those pre-mac days were rough, let me tell you.  We definitely hadn’t figured out how to use the hook yet. A week or two off-line, where we inevitably went back and forth on that hook (and the occasional pop-misaccent of “how to REturn home” which gave me agitas). But here comes another draft on March 1st in a post called “HOW TO REVISE”: 

I feel pretty good about this one. I’m not going to sing it for you today - unless I miraculously learn how to play the guitar (doubtful). My changed lines are in italics.

Before you read on, I feel like I need to say something about perfect rhymes. I’ve been thinking about them a lot because this song both begs for them and also eschews them if they aren’t precisely what you mean. So I’ve definitely struck a bit of a deal with them - borrowing from pop, country, folk, and musical theater to figure out what to do where. But as I thought about these things and did my research, I’ve come to the conclusion that perfect rhymes are having a resurgence. Surprising, I know. Nothing ever seemed more lame or unlikely until lyrics became virtually unmemorizable and rap reclaimed rhyme’s significance. In addition to the rappers (too many to mention but Eminem and Blackalicious still being among some of my favorites for clever - without sacrificing meaning for the sake of - rhyme), the popularity of Fiona Apple, Regina Spektor, and new to my itunes line up Vampire Weekend (thanks Rachel Lowdermilk!) all mark a significant upswing in real rhyming��s trendiness. Of course, none of these writers act like hall monitors on the subject. We musical theater writers still have that all to ourselves - remarkably we act like narcs about it whether pro or con.

Now, back to the previously scheduled reveal of new lyrics! I think this is really fun to sing Brian’s melody. We will, of course, test drive sometime this week.

How to Return Home

Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards, Home just as you left it but still you’re shaken, like walking into a museum somehow out of time. It’s all the same except the girl in the hallway, Where she’s been and who she will ripen into, Your childhood’s on the other side of a sprawling divide… too wide.

Take silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs.  It’s the only way you’ll get through today. Count the hours. Take a shower. Wash yourself away.

The house is pulsing with an alien heartbeat, Was it always here but you never listened? It’s calling you to be the girl that you were way back then… again.

Take a silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs. Put away your clothes, take it nice and slow.

Be their daughter. Nothing’s harder when nobody knows

How to return home, and how to survive, There’s no written guidelines. How to go back, How to show up and unpack. How to show up.

How to grow up. How to take a breath. Take a silent breath. Hold in the change. Tell yourself you still live here. Take your bags upstairs. You still share a name

But you’re not the same. You don’t fight now. You don’t hide now. It’s a whole new way of how to return home.* How to return home. How to return home.

Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards, home just as you left it but still you’re shaken.

*I originally had “It’s a whole new game. How to return home.” Which I’m pretty sure I don’t like but sometimes I get something right and then go straight past it. This adds a pick up before the “how” but I think the meaning is much better and it’s a little less played out / more unexpected and leads to a better conclusion for the song.  The only other thing that I tried and rejected is replacing “Take a shower. Wash yourself away.” with “Only hours. Teach yourself to pray.”

Thoughts?

It’s nice and rare when you get a resounding yes to the thing you made. How sweet to have that back and forth captured in the comments: 

BRIAN: wow that’s gorgeous. i’ll write more, and probably sing it back to everyone either later tonight or tomorrow morning. amazing work, kait. KAIT: Maybe tomorrow after the cap thing? I’ll bring my camera. Maybe they’ll let us steal a piano for a bit? BRIAN: since we had plans for natalie weiss to make a recording for us anyway, want to ask her to do this? later this week? and yes, let’s record tomorrow. this thing f-ing rocks. KAIT: Maybe. Let’s mull it over as we sing through it today.

Oh, Brian and Kait, you so-n-sos. Always so on brand. Kait ever cautiously low-key, Brian so deeply enthusiastic and raring to go. 

Do you care about any of this? All of this is about how a song got written, not about how it landed itself as a center piece of THE BAD YEARS. What is THE BAD YEARS? A song cycle? An immersive house party? Both? What does that have to do with the alien heartbeat of this house and ChristineCoke? 

Everything. “How To Return Home” found its way into a song cycle we made called TALES FROM THE BAD YEARS, which was the brainchild of a conversation that we had with a licensing company that wanted us to make something commercial that could go directly to licensing. Would that not have been lovely? It didn’t pan out. But the idea that we hit - to write a show about the people around us - the generation of millennials who would never fulfill their parents’ American Dream, did pan out and evolve. 

“How To Return Home” was always one of the songs that felt like a linchpin to these songs and as we built it out, it became something that parents of millennials would hear and grab us by the arm and say “Thank you for telling me what my daughter is going through. She just moved back in after college.” We realized that in writing something a bit broader than just about coming home for Thanksgiving break, we were writing about the larger lack of employment after college, the depression of a generation who didn’t have the opportunities that they assumed they’d have. We leaned into this. 

When we had the opportunity to take TALES FROM THE BAD YEARS and turn it into an immersive house party, this song was both beguiling and bewildering. It does not take place at a house party. But the sensation of being at your family’s home in the center of a party can be beautifully transfixing. The song became a centerpiece for Rachel’s arc. 

Rachel was an optimistic and ambitious millennial who’s surprised to discover that the world wasn’t waiting for her. She is one of the youngest at the party and she is just beginning to realize that she’s going to have to claw her way into the world rather than have it handed to her. In more recent drafts, the house has actually become more and more of a character. The history of the house is also oppressive. This is a place where some bad things happened and it’s going to be destroyed. But right now, Rachel is facing her own nostalgia smashed up against the glass of her reality. 

Ultimately, “How to Return Home” is about the simple sensation of walking into a house after having grown up there and feeling like the whole place is smaller, different. The fun house affect of your reality having outgrown your childhood cocoon. I moved around a lot. I haven’t been back to a single place that I grew up except my grandmother’s house. Every time I walk in, I’m struck by how low the ceilings are, how small the kitchen is, how narrow that backyard that contained my fantasies is. Once upon a time, my whole world could fit inside that kitchen. I remember a graduation party (something that I also can barely believe ever happened  - my grandmother entertaining) and sliding past adults through the back door to get to the refrigerator. But even as I say that, my memory is wavering. She remodeled her kitchen a few years ago and moved the back stairs and I have to consciously conjure that old set up. My memory has transformed to adjust to her new layout. I remember a couch that was long and s shaped in her music room. The room is so small. Where exactly did it go? Memory is so slippery but the visceral feelings you have when you return to a site of your childhood - especially the dark looming ones - is not. It’s immediate and pulsing and both familiar and alien at once. 

The question of how to return home is really a question of how to hold onto your slippery sense of self when you’re just discovering who you are and I think the answer (or at least the answer that we landed on in this song) is mindfulness - mindfully telling yourself to breath, to hold in the things you know to be true about yourself in spite of all of the old neural pathways that are lighting up with triggers. 

[givemethatgold]

Beach Day

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Warnings: Being pulled underwater, light drinking Word Count: 2557 A/N: So I’m enjoying writing out memories from my past, taking creative liberties of course, and recreating them as Avengers adventures. They’re not amazingly written, I’d never profess to be a writer. The process is therapeutic for me, so be nice! That being said, I’m always one for improvement, so please leave feedback.  Would you like more details? Go into depth regarding character thoughts? What do you like reading?! I am eventually going to run out of memories worth writing about but don’t want to stop writing. 

Also, I’m in the Caribbean for a week starting today so this seemed like a good story to write out before I leave! Thank you, I love you my Freaky Darlings!

You woke up with a smile.  Not certain why, but you had a feeling that today was going to be amazing.  Not wanting to waste a minute of it, you hopped out of bed and threw on your bright yellow shorts and white tank top; feeling the need to look as sunny as you felt.

Your smile only grew at the sight that greeted you upon entering the kitchen area. Steve was making eggs benedict for breakfast, your uncontested favorite dish.  Bucky and Sam were bickering over the coffee maker, arguing over the merits of flavoured vs. dark roast beans.  Wanda, Clint, and Tony were sitting at the counter, all in varying stages of wakefulness. 

Then Natasha pranced into the room and it was like Christmas had come early, “I can’t find any intel on Hydra, terrorist, or alien activity.  Hell, even the President seems to be taking a day off.” 

You all looked at each other with a gleam in your eyes, knowing what this meant. This was a day off. A break from thanklessly saving the world, from scrutiny, from hero worship and fear. You lived for these days, where you could let loose and get foolish. They were your holidays and today was the first one you’ll have had in 5 months.

Tony rubbed his hands together conspiratorially, “What’ll it be today? Amusement Park?-” at the thought of possible clowns Bucky reflexively cringed but Tony either didn’t notice of pretended not to. “-Catch a movie? Head to a bar and shoot some pool?”

Everyone began yelling their own ideas on how they’d like to spend their time. You heard someone mention cooking classes, a male voice suggesting the mall, even reclusive Wanda was getting swept up in the hype and was pleading with Steve to teach her how to ride his motorcycle.

“How about a day at the beach?” Sam spoke up with his own suggestion, “It was shaping up to be a gorgeous day while I was out on my run earlier.” You all went silent as you mulled the idea over, trying to remember the last time you’d even been. It was at least five or six years ago for you.

“I’ve never had one of those,” Bucky’s eyes had gone soft for a split second but he quickly recovered back to his stoic features, “Not really my thing.”

“Bikinis, babes, beer, sand, sun…yeah sounds lame. You stay here to brood and leave it all for me then.” Sam smirked, always knowing how to push Buck’s buttons.

You knew Bucky better than everyone, even Steve who was still having a hard time separating post-war Bucky from who he was today. You had only ever known Bucky from his time as The Winter Soldier turned Avenger, you could see right through his poor excuse and quietly pulled Tony aside to see if he’d approve of your game plan.

You would have been out of the compound sooner, but it took almost a full half hour to convince Bucky to come.  You knew he hated being in public, the negative attention his presence drew weight heavily on his psyche. Also, the beach usually meant swimming, which usually meant taking off clothes.  For a super soldier with a body like his, you’d think this wouldn’t be an issue but Bucky was extremely self conscious about his bionic arm and the scarring where metal met flesh.

You took a break from playfully begging him to look him in the eye and very seriously remind him that he could trust you. That statement finally got his feet moving and soon everyone was gathering in the hanger.

You were all packed into one of Stark’s private jets. Much to his chagrin you had packed a cooler on board filled with beer and snacks even thought the jet came with a fully loaded bar and kitchen. Everyone’s mood was light and Tony even allowed each of you to help pick the playlist for the 2 hour flight. Taking up this much of the day was a risk you were willing to take if it meant that everyone on the team could relax. Opening a bag of candy, you leaned back in your seat and looked around at the group, smiling at how relaxed everyone was. 

Once you reached your destination you all clambered out of the jet to look around. Tony’s ‘beach house’ on his ‘small’ private island could have held a group twice your size with ease. The villa was surrounded by lush vegetation and you could just make out the sight of the beach behind a break in the trees. 

You and Wanda made eye contact and simultaneously started giggling jumped into each other’s arms. Being friends with Tony could be a paint in the ass but it was worth it for perk like this. The two of you starting running for the beach, leaving the rest of the team to deal with the bags and coolers. 

“Thank youuuuu!” You threw over your shoulder at Sam’s indignant “Hey!” 

You found the perfect spot in the sand, just around a bend in the shoreline and out of site from the house. You could suntan nude here if you felt like it, the idea making you blush. You were startled out of your thoughts by Bucky spreading out your beach blanket and plopping himself down; cracking a beer while shoving licorice into his mouth.

“Hey buster, this is my spot!” you glared halfheartedly, not entirely minding the idea of sharing the blanket with him.

Bucky just laughed through his nose and took great care in wiggling his body around in order to get more comfortable on the sand, making it clear he wasn’t moving (much to your delight).

Before you could take your place next to him Natasha was calling for you from the edge of the water next to the ‘dock’. Tony really needed to work on his underwhelming descriptions...

Natasha and Wanda ran to the end and flawlessly dove into the crystalline water while you opted for the ladder, carefully sliding yourself in. The three of you were floating in the water, enjoying the heat of the sun. Eventually you called for the others to join you, wanting everyone to get the full experience of a beach day. Running down the dock Clint and Sam jumped in and started swimming laps around you as you slowly floated your way farther from shore. The laughter continued as you all joked while swimming.  You and Nat ganging up on Clint, splashing water at him which escalated to him diving under the water and tugging on your feet, making your head slip beneath the water’s surface.

Immediately you starting panicking, thrashing around trying to break his hold on you. He must not know, how could he know, that being underwater was your worst fear. Your mind and body went temporarily blank from shock and fear and you suddenly realized you were sinking. Before the realization could effect you further you felt a cool arm snake around your waist, pulling you up towards the surface. Bucky.

Once your head broke the surface you gasped for air and clung to the body who was holding you almost as tight. A bare chested body. Even in your panicked state you celebrated the fact that he had felt comfortable enough to take his shirt off.

“Y/N!  What happened?  I’m so sorry!” Clint was treading water near you, apologizing profusely, unsure about what he did but feeling terrible regardless.

“It’s okay,” you choked out, coming to your senses, “Just a lingering fear from an accident a long time ago. It’s okay, Clint. It’s okay!” You attempted a smile and a wave of dismissal as Bucky swam, then walked you back to your blanket never letting his grip on you lessen.

He sat down with you on his lap, still in his arms and looked at you with worry. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked, being the one person on the team who knew about the ‘incident’ he knew how badly you could be reacting. 

“Yes, Buck. Thanks,” your heart rate had been back to normal but looking up into his steely blues you felt it spike again. Not wanting to linger on your little freak-out and risk spoiling the day you decided to distract yourself and him, “How-how on earth did you get to me so fast?! I didn’t even realize you could swim with this thing-” knocking on his metal arm “-never mind rescue a damsel in distress!”

“I was watching you,” he admitted with a small blush. “Was already halfway to you when I saw Clint dive under: had a feeling something might happen.”

What had you done in a past life to allow you to have such an amazing person in this one? Bucky was nothing like the obedient war machine the public assumed him to be. After a few seconds you realized you were staring at him and hadn’t responded, crackling tension filled the air.

The sound of your stomach rumbling saved your from acknowledging the moment. Bucky laughed at the loud growl and stood up, slowly allowing your legs down so you could support yourself. He held you close for a beat too long; apparently you weren’t the only one who would miss the close contact. Hmmm... 

The two of you made your way to the patio were Tony had his staff set up a buffet of BBQ’d meats, platters of fresh fruit, and even an ice sculpture of Cap’s shield. That man loved to flirt with the line of propriety. 

Stomach full, Bucky had resumed his former position on your blanket and promptly fallen asleep in the sun. You let him sleep for as long as possible but soon you just couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Stepping as quietly as you could you snuck up to the sleeping beauty clutching a glass in your hands. After a moment of enjoying the peaceful look on his face you let the ice water from your cup drip onto his chest. With a hell he jerked awake and swung his leg out, taking you down in one fell swoop. You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face even though your ass was sore from the harsh landing and your pride was bruised from being taken down so easily by a sleeping man. He glared at you, scooped the few remaining ice cubes off his chest, and made to grab you.

Predicting his actions you shrieked and scrambled backwards in an embarrassingly klutzy crab walk, trying to get away from his retaliation. Not that you stood a chance against the super soldier, but you were enjoying how flirty and carefree this back-and-fort teasing was today. Natasha, the traitor, blocked your path and allowed Bucky to pin you to the sand. You were victorious at least in the ensuing scuffle at getting him to drop the ice cubes, so you shot him a sassy smile and claimed a truce.

He only gave you a closed lipped smile, eye shining with laughter. Your breath halted in your chest when Bucky lowered his head towards you and started nuzzling his way down your neck, a cold stream on your skin following his movements making you gasp.  Pulling his head back up Bucky grinned at you, exposing the chunk of ice he’d hidden in his mouth.  

Well shit. You were so fucking turned on you were rendered speechless.

“So, what happens now?” Bucky asked loud enough so the group could hear but maintained eye contact with you, giving the statement a double meaning.

“Now,” Tony sassed at him, “You start us a fire.” Tossing Bucky a pack of matches then motioning towards the fire pit situated a few yards up from the beach. Soon you were all sitting in a circle, mesmerized by the flames. Marshmallows were passed around along a bottle of Vodka that popped up out of Natasha’s bag.

A few of the guys got up to throw around a football, the scene so stereotypical and normal it hurt your heart knowing that this was a first for a few of them. You began to wonder what life would have been like, had you all managed to stay out of war zones. You knew this line of thought was pointless and that you and Bucky would have existed in different times, so you forced the melancholy aside and just enjoyed the view.

The evening wore on and the eight of you found yourselves splayed over your towels and blanket, watching the dying embers of the fire. Sam began to make jokes and asking everyone who he ‘was supposed to be’. Steve was the only one not finding Sam’s impressions hilarious. Partly because he was the only one sober and partly because they were mostly of him. While everyone was distracted by Sam trying to dig his way out of the hole he had dug, Bucky grabbed your hand and tugged you to your feet.

You two slowly made your way to the dock hand-in-hand, enjoying the intimate moment. You weren’t dating by any stretch of the term but every so often Bucky would pull you close to share a quiet moment or hug you tight after a mission, taking solace in the close proximity of someone he cared about. Although, after the flirtatious events of today, you were wondering if something more concrete was a possibility. The sun was setting across the ocean and the sky was awash in oranges and pinks. You settled yourselves down on the weathered wooden planks and dipped your feet in the warm water. Resting your weight onto your elbows you leaned back to enjoy the painted sky. After a few minutes you realized Bucky was humming a tune, listening harder you could just make out Otis Redding’s Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay.

You absentmindedly started singing along, and after faltering slightly once he realized you could hear, Bucky continued to hum and eventually sing along with you.

It was getting dark and the team needed to get back to the compound to prepare for whatever would come tomorrow. You and Bucky jumped up and jogged towards Clint and Wanda who were already packing everything up. Your efforts were slowed because nothing could be put into the jet without Tony inspecting it, making sure all the sand had been dusted off. Finally, after the precocious billionaire was satisfied, you were allowed to board. 

Steve was the only one in their right mind to fly and Sam opted to keep him company as a way of making amends for all the teasing earlier. Tony, Wanda, Nat, and Clint settled themselves in the lounge area.  Music already blasting and amber liquid being poured into glasses.

This left you and Bucky alone in the back of the plane, much to your delight. Buck pulled you down onto to plush couch, settling himself at an angle with his legs stretched out on your side of the floor. So, following his lead, you twisted around too but propped your legs up onto the seat. Bucky grabbed your feet and placed them on his lap, softly massaging the arches with his knuckles. With a smile you closed your eyes and leaned your head back to rest on the arm of the couch, enjoying the feel of his cool metal hand on your sun-heated skin. His hands slowly working their way up your legs were causing goosebumps and you hoped in vain he wouldn’t notice. 

“Hey,” he called to you softly causing you to open your eyes and lift your head to look at him. “Thank you. For today. I know it was you who asked Tony to take us here.  It worked, ya know, being away from the public eye allowed me to relax.  I even forgot about this-” he flexed out his metal arm “-for a while. So, thank you. I owe you.”

While he’d been talking you had sat up and your bodies slowly migrated towards each other until you were mere inches apart.  Glancing down at his mouth, you subconsciously licked your lips and whispered “Well you’d better start making it up to me.”