Reignition

"Maybe." Grace looked up innocently. He noticed that one of her hands was stuck tightly between her legs, and the button of her tight shorts was popped open, just revealing the skin of her stomach.

Ivan felt an instant sort of buzz, and decided to try and push his luck. "Was it one I sent?"

Still one-handed, Grace fumbled with her phone to fire off a text message. "Not exactly. An unofficial sort of sequel. An homage."

"That might be the fanciest sounding word that I've ever heard you say." Ivan teased, looking down at his phone buzz.

She justly swiped him across the back of the head, with the hand holding her phone.

He opened up the link that she had just sent him. It was a story, but by an authour he'd never read. An unofficial sort of epilogue to one of the stories he had sent through.

Not one he had particularly high hopes that she would like, however. He was actually half-surprised, that this was what she had been reading beside him. Something so hot, so consuming, that she just had to touch her clit.

That thought, particularly distracted him from what he was reading.

Grace clearly expected him to read it, though. She was still sitting on the couch cube, looking down at him, with a strained smile on her face, biting onto the corner of her mouth.

The story she'd given him was about a honeymooning couple. They'd ended up marrying at the end of the original, in the couple paragraph round up. The honeymoon started off, in the sequel, as an unmitigated disaster.

Luggage lost, raining from an offshore cyclone instead of tropics sun, downgraded from a suite and into a tiny room from flooding, resulting in ending up in a double bed.

Even the dance floor was closed, which became the catalyst of an argument between the two.

He wanted to make the best of the situation, while she was more inclined to wallow in self-pity. As their tempers flared, they found themselves saying things they didn't mean, while their relationship started to unravel.

As the night wore on, they both retreated to their small room, vowing to ignore each other until things got better. It wasn't until the next morning when they woke up to the sun shining through the window that they realized they had to make the most of their time together.

Venturing out being impossible, the two started to explore each other, beginning with make-up sex. Quickly followed by trying to work out each other's kinks... And then where the other person would draw the line.

One particular scene stuck out to Ivan.

The two outside, in the middle of the storm.

Ivan turned his phone's screen off and jumped quickly to his feet, spinning to head towards his bedroom. "I'm done."

A finger caught the edge of his shorts, and with as loose as they were, they stretched out giving his roommate a bright view of the white of his ass, as bright as any moon.

"Uh... Grace?"

She leaned forward, eyeing him, and then grinned and looked up at him, "Just checking for size."

Before he could splutter a response to that, she let go of the shorts, and they slapped into him. Bouncing the ship's plank that may have appeared in front of him.

Flustered, and completely confused, Ivan mumbled something unintelligible and made a break for the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He hesitated, leaning up against it.

What had just happened?

Was... Was Grace interested him? Or was she just trying to stir him up? A bigger question than both of those - why was he so affected by it?

Reading the story had put him into a mood. Playful, but well over the line of what should be between roommates.

With her strange reaction, and the story in his head, Ivan found his frantic mind suddenly summoning up a picture of the two of them. Standing on a balcony, even though he didn't have one, and taking care of what might be a common frustration.

He fell onto the edge of his bed, replaying it in his mind. He had no idea whether Grace was interested in him, or not. They did have something that wasn't quite friendship, and not quite just roommates. Something of both, but not entirely just one.

She probably wouldn't describe him as a friend. Just the man who lived with her.

She probably wouldn't call him a roommate, either. Their distant childhood friendship meant that they were more comfortable with each other than 'just roommates' had any right to be.

Where the hell did that leave them?

He was still thinking on that, and getting nowhere, when the light in the loungeroom clicked off.

(Yg)

Ivan was late in the morning.

He burst out of his room, still putting on his tie, and was out the door before he realised that Grace had her mouth open, and had been about to say something to him.

He was still thinking about whether he should risk ducking back, when he stepped out of the building, and right into a brutal peppering of sand across the face.

His mouth snapped shut and he tried to shield his face and eyes. He had to lean his way into the wind, as the summer dust storm tried to completely bury him in Melbourne's wrath.

Ivan ran for the bus stop, his suit shoes threatening to slip on the pavement under the gusts. The windows howled, and as he approached the bus stop, he found a crowd, and safety from the damn weather.

The bus arrived, and Ivan boarded it. He had to hold onto the straps tightly to keep himself upright. The bus was packed, and there was barely any room to stand. Ivan tried to balance himself, but the bus jerked to a start, and he was thrown off balance again.

As the bus moved through the stormy streets, Ivan felt disappointed with himself. If only he had woken up a little earlier, he wouldn't be in this mess.

He might have even be able to talk things over with Grace.

(aX)

Considering the awkward conversation about where limits should be, that he knew was coming, Ivan stopped by the supermarket on the way home.

It didn't take him long to grab what he wanted. Light things, the kind that bring the party, and don't make anyone feel obligated about anything. Party foods, with memories of being a kid.

Wasn't long before he was unlocking his door, whilst juggling backpack and paper shopping bags in the one hand.

The Lamingtons went up and on the bench, the dim sims into a microwaveable bowl so he could have something ready for when Grace got home. He started pre-heating the oven, and put the sausage rolls onto what little benchspace that there was.

Soft drink went by the couch square, along with a couple of mugs - because the glasses were waiting to be washed and he only owned the two of them.

A quick glance at the clock had Ivan stopping in his tracks. He knew that Grace, both of them really, did tend to work late. The hour that the job officially said was the end of things... Was rarely the time that they headed home.

However, he had worked late, and he had gone shopping, and he had set up the house, and she was nowhere to be seen.

Ivan did put the sausage rolls into the oven, when it was at the right temperature, but the worry was well and truly gnawing away at him. They had overstepped, and that meant guilt, but what if...

Grace felt uncomfortable, and somehow managed to find somewhere else to stay? She'd been at work long enough she might be able to convince someone there to help out for a night or two. Just to separate the two of them.

Something had happened at work? Grace might be lying in a hospital bed, all alone, and he just wouldn't know. Unless she called or texted him, would anybody even know to contact him? Wasn't like he was her brother.

A quick glance at his phone brought home even more worries. Right at the start of the peak hour for heading home, the tram right behind his own had apparently derailed.

A car had been parked in the middle of the rails, and another had tried to sneak through as well, and got sandwiched up the middle. The news had a wonderful phrase attached to the bottom of the article.

> It is unclear at this stage if there were any injuries.

The sound of the door opening jolted him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Grace walk in.

Her beautiful and genteel face was gone. Her cheeks were puffy, her eyes red and bloodshot, and she was sniffling. If she had been crying, then it had still been going right before she opened that door.

Ivan crossed to her unbidden, unthinking, and grabbed her in a hug.

As his arms closed around her, he second-guessed himself on whether it was an appropriate thing to do. Did they know each other well enough for him to do much more than shake her hand?

Grace burst into tears again and pushed and rubbed her face into the spot below his shoulder, as if she was trying to plough her way into a tunnel. She didn't speak. She didn't howl. Her crying was silent, and of so very much pain.

He held her lightly, scared to pull in tight, as her hands turned into claws against his back. He didn't have an idea of what to say, as she shook and shivered, crying away into him.

Ivan was still trying to think of something better to say than 'It's okay', when it obviously wasn't, when the oven's sound changed. He looked over quickly and swore, "Oh shit. Um... Burning?"

Grace let go of him immediately, causing him a burst of angst that it was so easy, and then she dropped and curled into a ball on her couch square. He ran over to the oven, and used an oven mitt to quickly pull the sausage rolls and stick them on the stovetop.

He ducked it off and ran back to her side, kneeling down by the couch, "Well, I wanted to apologise. Looks like I had good timing for that. You up for a party, gal?"

"I am a gal." She said quietly, sniffling, "That's... All I am. I'm just a pretty little girl. A useless as fuck little girl. A nothing who knows nothing about anything and isn't even good at making a fucked up coffee."

She didn't raise her voice.

There was no extra emotion as she spoke.

Grace said it, as if she was realising the truth of things. That really, when it came down to it, she was just a useless barista, who the company didn't even need. She was just there to make things easier, taking up a little bit of space.

"Bad day, huh?" Ivan prompted gently.

She sat up instantly and glared at him, before giving a stronger sniffle, "Get a girl a tissue?"

He shrugged, leaning back and grabbing them off the coffee table and then holding the box out to her. "Really bad day?"

"Oh, just..." Grace snorted into the paper thing, and then looked at him with a lot of disappointment and pain. She rolled her jaw, took two deep breaths. "Ivan. I don't need you making things worse, right now. I already feel worthless. You pitying me? That's bullshit. I hate it worse than what happened at work. Because it means you can't even fucking see me."

"See you?"

She rubbed her eyes and let out a frustrated groan, "Yes! See me! God above, Ivan!"

He cocked his head, "You've lost me."

"No shit, dickwad!" She snarled and then took a deep breathe. "Sorry. Frustrated. Let's... Have dinner, have a laugh at TV, give up, and fall back into the routine of things. You made dinner. Thankyou. It was sweet of you."

"I... Was trying to apologise for last night."

She stared at him.

He shrugged weakly, "Things... Went a little too far last night. I let things go too far and -"

"Dude!"

Ivan blinked, "I miss something?"

"I. Want. In. Your. Pants." She bit off each word, cheeks getting redder and redder with each one. "Ivan... You didn't overstep, you monkey! I tried to get you to take me to bed. I tried to get you to fuck me. But instead, your were Mr. Polite, and stepped off, and then felt guilty and like it was your fault and that you needed to apologise..."

She broke off, grinning as two more tears slipped down her cheeks, shaking her head.

It was Ivan's turn to stare.

Grace gave a small and weak little shrug, "I... Like you. We're... Living together. I thought that maybe... We could skip a little, on the dating front. But, I overstepped. We're just roommates. Nothing extra. I won't do it again. So... We can forget it? Please? I don't want to have to find another place. Please."

Ivan rubbed his chin, "Grace..."

"Please! Forget." She said quickly and jumped to her feet, moving over to the kitchen and beginning to serve the dinner onto some plates.

He barely managed to stumble upright, before Grace was pushing him onto the couch with a plate, and then sitting down beside it and turning on the TV. She was absolutely determined not to have a conversation about her confession.

However, it opened a door that he had thought locked, bolted, and shuttered.

If he was going to consider latching his life back together with someone else's, after everything... Then Grace would be his first thought.

She was funny, she was forgiving. She was as intelligent as she was funny. She was the kind of gal to turn a party into a screaming nonsense, and she was the kind you could find the day after dragging around a rubbish bin - still with a smile across her face.

He didn't know if he wanted to marry anyone, let alone her. He didn't know if that would be the end goal.

He didn't know if love was the right word for what was between them, just yet. Love might blossom at an instant, but sometimes it took time to grow. Sometimes it was a closed bulb, before you took the step. It only blossomed over time.

However... He did want to try and see if any blossom might happen.

It would ruin being just roommates. If they broke up, living together wouldn't be something they could keep doing. Not in these tight sort of confines.

It was... A risk.

"So... If I was terribly rude, and ignored you telling me to forget everything, and asked you on a date, would you hate me and want to move out?" Ivan asked slowly, "Hypothetically."

Grace dropped the plate she was carrying to the table, and it instantly shattered apart at her feet. Rolling innocent sausage rolls across a carpet that did not get nearly enough attention from him.

She stared at him, mouth open wide, and blinking, breathing, but nothing else.

Ivan shuffled over and tried to start cleaning things up. Grace's fingers found his hair, clutching tightly and yanking him to his feet. He stood awkwardly, bent over, as she pulled his head to the level of her eyes.

She took a deep breath, "Say that again."

"You hate me, don't you?"

"Moron!" She let go of him and pushed his chest, which had him falling on his butt with a sharp crack. He flinched, and Grace's face went white.

She fell onto her knees in front of him, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean that it's just... You can't do that to a girl, Ivan! I've been wanting to date you since we were freaking kids. You being the one, when I came here... Do you have any idea how hard that was? I... I..."

"So, I guess I should ask you on a date, then." He said, with one hand rubbing uselessly at his sore tailbone.

"I should have asked you out." Grace said guiltily.

He looked up at her, "Last night? That wasn't you -"

"That was me being stupid and tryin' ta skip the date." Grace replied flatly and shook her head, "No. Screw being a slut, and screw the bitches at the office who always call me one. Let's do this right. A date."

"Yeah... Nah." Ivan gave a small laugh, "Doing things right, would be me taking you to a fancy restaurant, in an uncomfortable dress, and us sharing one kiss. Let's do this, as us. It's freaking hot. Tomorrow, we both have off. So... Let's go to a waterpark."

She burst into a wide grin, "The two old people having way too much fun and embarrassing everyone else, at the waterpark?"

"Exactly!"

Grace ducked forward, her soft lips planting against his for half a breath of a moment, before she leaned back and stood up. She grinned down at him and winked, "It's a date. But... Help fix dinner? After I screwed it up?"

"I'll feed the hungry queen." He laughed and rolled over to gingerly find his feet.

(Qg)

The night passed too quickly for Ivan.

He and Grace talked most of the night about the next day. They sat and watched the TV, laughing at the drama queens of the night's reality show. Something to do with a giant wheel that the host very dramatically spun.

That first, brief kiss, stuck foremost in his mind, and with not even a hint of a repeat. Ivan wanted to put one hand in the small of her back, holding her close, and give every thought and skill into telling her that she was a gorgeous woman who didn't deserve the jealousy and hatred of her fellow office workers.

Instead, Grace seemed to be floating on an emotional high, perfectly happy with everything, and he didn't want to ruin that. A kiss now, unbidden, might just be the thing to undo this dream even as it just started to spin together.

The next morning found Ivan just dragging out of bed and into the main room, where Grace was sitting on her couch, smiling at the TV. She was already wearing her bathers.

A small but somewhat modest bikini bottom, paired with a top that he could see through a light white t-shirt, featuring an Australian band that probably no longer existed.

Beside her on the floor was her fancy bag for work, but the contents had been dumped beside it. Presumably to make room for a towel, and whatever else she was taking with them.

Grace had a crumpet in her hand, and was giggling at a cartoon that he was pretty sure that they used to sneak and watch together, way too early in the morning.

"You're prepped." He said, throat rumbling, as he went to the kitchen to make some toast.

"It's gonna get hot, fast. Gotta get in quick." Grace replied idly, not seeming perturbed that he was moving slower than her, today.

"Want a coffee?"

"Got one." She said, holding up a mug from the other side of the couch as he glanced over at her.

Ivan swallowed, "So, um... About today..."

"We each pay our own way." Grace said matter-of-factly. "Hang out the park. Do some slides and rides. Grab some lunch, and then we can head home, or if you have something else planned, that. But by dinner, can we be crashing back here, at least? I'm exhausted after my week."

He breathed a sigh of relief, as the kettle began to boil, shouting over it, "Thankyou. Sorry! I'm exhausted, too!"

Grace grinned at him, her nose crunching up, "Not too exhausted! I hope!"

He frowned, too tired to get it.

She stood up and lightly skipped over on the balls of her feet, putting her hands across his naked chest with a guilty grin, before looking up at his face and then tapping their noses together.

She said something, but he didn't hear it whispered beneath the roar of the kettle he really ought to replace. Grace's hands slipped around his back, and her head landed on his chest. Her ear, to his heart, as she pulled them into a gentle hug.

His arms went around her, holding her warmth, her comfort, and feeling more at home than he had felt in years.

The kettle popped, the noise winding down, and Grace whispered, "I've missed you."

He held her, looking down and kissing the top of her head. Giving her the first kiss he had, since they were dumb and young and didn't know what they were doing. Kissing her with a meaning that he could only now understand.

Grace snuggled in tighter, and he could feel the angst falling out of her bones. She became so much softer, as all the stress of her work, especially the day before, was melted by the two of them being together.

This was faster than anything he had felt before, but all the same, he wasn't nervous. It felt more like a key finding the right lock. This was always meant to be.

Grace farted.

Ivan let out a surprised laugh, regretting it immediately as he breathed in the gaseous fumes, and Grace raced across the room, jumping onto her couch and laughing at him.

He shook his head, smiling at her, "I'm going to get you back."