Life had settled, as lives often do, into a routine that suited both Neville and Demeter very well indeed. They had found a house to share, moving themselves in with very little fuss or bother - a home with room enough to build a life together with all their little foibles perfectly catered for. Their hours of work complimented one another most of the time, and on those occasions when it didn't, they weren't alone for long. Today was one of those days - Neville had been rehearsing for The Nutcracker at the Shanachie, the first to return home while Demi finished up with a client at work. She was later home than usual, very quiet as she opened the front door and stepped inside, shedding her coat and shoes before calling out her return. "I'm home!"
"In the kitchen!" he called, upon hearing her announce her arrival. They had slowly but surely been working on decorating the house for the holidays, but the Christmas tree was still only half-decorated and, with both their busy schedules, it was hard finding time to finish. Still, it seemed Neville had been busy since he'd arrived home from the theater as the smell of food cooking filled the house with its aroma.
Barefoot, she wandered toward the kitchen. It had taken a while to get into the habit of it, but she had finally stopped using her sensitive nose to already be in the same room by the time he announced where he was. It was a small piece of normal she could give him, and besides, on days like today, she needed that little extra time to relax her expression before she reached him. "Hello," she smiled at him, rising onto her toes to kiss his cheek affectionately. "How was rehearsal today?"
"Hello, beautiful," he replied, tilting his face into her kiss as she greeted him, his hands tied up with cutting up veggies for whatever he was throwing together for dinner. "Good! The production is a little crazy, but a lot of fun." As should be expected with all the kids running around as part of the production. "Most of the wrinkles seem to have been ironed out. It's gonna be great!" he said, beaming an enthusiastic grin.
"Hopefully you won't have a nightmare of a technical rehearsal on Sunday," she smiled. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you." It sounded as though the moment they'd started bringing the dancers and the orchestra together for these rehearsals, all hell had broken loose, but Neville was incredibly upbeat about the whole thing. "What are we cooking, I wonder?"
"We'll probably need it!" He chuckled at her comment. As optimistic as he was about it, the theater had been a bit of a zoo lately. The Nutcracker required a large cast, including guest dancers and children, and sometimes it seemed to Neville that it was a little too much like babysitting, but everyone was so excited about the project that there had been few problems. "Stir fry?" he replied, hoping she'd find that acceptable. From the smell of things, it seemed there was going to be some chicken included in that stir fry.
"Mmm, sounds lovely," she smiled in agreement, hugging her arms about his waist lightly. Yes, she might have been in his way, but she needed that long moment of contact, hiding her face against his chest as she breathed him in.
He frowned as she buried her face in his chest and he set the knife down and wiped his hands on a towel before circling his arms around her, brows furrowed. It wasn't all that unusual for her to greet him this way, except that he'd been in the middle of cooking. "Demi, is everything all right?"
She sighed softly, raising her head to look up at him. "Sometimes it's very hard to let work go," she admitted in a quiet tone. "Especially the children. Some of them have been through so much. I have no idea if I'm helping them or not. They've lived through horrors, and they're still going. It's ....amazing and heartbreaking."
He knew better than to ask for details or expect her to divulge her clients' names or break their confidences. "You had a session with a child today, then," he said. It wasn't a difficult assumption to make, given her statement. He'd often wondered what would have happened if he hadn't gone to her for help dealing with the grief from his wife's death. She had helped him, certainly, but somehow, they had also managed to fall in love.
She nodded, leaning back. "All he wants is for his nightmares to go away," she said quietly. "It's such a simple wish. And if anything, they're getting worse. I thought we were making some headway, but his father went back into action, and the nightmares came back. All I can do is give this boy a place where he can rant and rave in perfect confidence. What do I know about recovering from torture?"
"Into action?" Neville echoed, curiously. He knew he wasn't supposed to ask too many questions, but it was hard to help her deal with these things if he didn't know what she was dealing with. "Is he a soldier?" he asked further, his expression changing as his brain registered the rest of what she was saying. "Torture"! Who the hell would torture a child?"
"Bastards, that's who," was her succinct response to his horrified response. She shook her head. "Not just him, but other children, too. They were all saved at the same time, by the same people, and it seems as though they are still in contact with each other. But this poor boy ....he was improving until his father put himself back in the firing line again. I can only assume it's some sort of paramilitary group; he doesn't know the details and I don't ask."
"Mmm," he murmured, fingers brushing her cheek as he pushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Maybe he should talk to his father about it?" he suggested, though that much seemed obvious.
"One of the reasons he's talking to me is because he doesn't want to tell his parents how much he's struggling," Demi said thoughtfully. "But you're right. The only person who can really reassure him is his father. I'll talk to him about broaching that subject next week." She managed a faint smile. "Thank you. I don't know why I didn't think of that myself."
"Because you're too busy worrying about the boy and taking his problems onto yourself to think of the obvious," he replied, leaning in to touch a kiss to her cheek, before looking her over with a smile. "You look gorgeous, but dinner is gonna be ready soon, if you wanna go get comfy first."
"I'm involved again, you mean," she mused wryly, but there was a smile on her face. Sometimes, she just couldn't help but care about her clients. Besides, if she was always detached and professional, she wouldn't be engaged to Neville, would she? His comment on her clothing made her laugh. "You're a saint, you know that' I'll go and change." She paused, rising up onto her toes to kiss him tenderly. "I love you."
He beamed a smile back at her, eyes shining with pride and happiness. Everyday, he was amazed at how much his life had changed and how happy he had become because of this woman. "Saint Neville, I know," he said, with a dimpled grin. "And I love you, too," he added, just for good measure, though she should already know that.
She purred softly, rubbing her cheek against his tenderly before breaking away, jogging up the stairs to their bedroom. Though her work look was very professional, at home she was definitely a relaxed animal. He had managed to cure her of wandering around butt naked most of the time, but that had only translated into shorts and t-shirts, even as the weather turned cold. Thus, when she came downstairs, Demi was displaying her long legs in a comfortable pair of shorts, her toes wriggling in the softness of her slippers.
And by the time she was finished getting changed, he had dinner on the table, candles lit and glasses of wine poured. He had another little surprise prepared, but it wasn't immediately obvious. He had the lights turned down, so that they were eating by candlelight, even though it wasn't a fancy meal. True to his word, they were having stir-fry.
"In the kitchen!" he called, upon hearing her announce her arrival. They had slowly but surely been working on decorating the house for the holidays, but the Christmas tree was still only half-decorated and, with both their busy schedules, it was hard finding time to finish. Still, it seemed Neville had been busy since he'd arrived home from the theater as the smell of food cooking filled the house with its aroma.
Barefoot, she wandered toward the kitchen. It had taken a while to get into the habit of it, but she had finally stopped using her sensitive nose to already be in the same room by the time he announced where he was. It was a small piece of normal she could give him, and besides, on days like today, she needed that little extra time to relax her expression before she reached him. "Hello," she smiled at him, rising onto her toes to kiss his cheek affectionately. "How was rehearsal today?"
"Hello, beautiful," he replied, tilting his face into her kiss as she greeted him, his hands tied up with cutting up veggies for whatever he was throwing together for dinner. "Good! The production is a little crazy, but a lot of fun." As should be expected with all the kids running around as part of the production. "Most of the wrinkles seem to have been ironed out. It's gonna be great!" he said, beaming an enthusiastic grin.
"Hopefully you won't have a nightmare of a technical rehearsal on Sunday," she smiled. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you." It sounded as though the moment they'd started bringing the dancers and the orchestra together for these rehearsals, all hell had broken loose, but Neville was incredibly upbeat about the whole thing. "What are we cooking, I wonder?"
"We'll probably need it!" He chuckled at her comment. As optimistic as he was about it, the theater had been a bit of a zoo lately. The Nutcracker required a large cast, including guest dancers and children, and sometimes it seemed to Neville that it was a little too much like babysitting, but everyone was so excited about the project that there had been few problems. "Stir fry?" he replied, hoping she'd find that acceptable. From the smell of things, it seemed there was going to be some chicken included in that stir fry.
"Mmm, sounds lovely," she smiled in agreement, hugging her arms about his waist lightly. Yes, she might have been in his way, but she needed that long moment of contact, hiding her face against his chest as she breathed him in.
He frowned as she buried her face in his chest and he set the knife down and wiped his hands on a towel before circling his arms around her, brows furrowed. It wasn't all that unusual for her to greet him this way, except that he'd been in the middle of cooking. "Demi, is everything all right?"
She sighed softly, raising her head to look up at him. "Sometimes it's very hard to let work go," she admitted in a quiet tone. "Especially the children. Some of them have been through so much. I have no idea if I'm helping them or not. They've lived through horrors, and they're still going. It's ....amazing and heartbreaking."
He knew better than to ask for details or expect her to divulge her clients' names or break their confidences. "You had a session with a child today, then," he said. It wasn't a difficult assumption to make, given her statement. He'd often wondered what would have happened if he hadn't gone to her for help dealing with the grief from his wife's death. She had helped him, certainly, but somehow, they had also managed to fall in love.
She nodded, leaning back. "All he wants is for his nightmares to go away," she said quietly. "It's such a simple wish. And if anything, they're getting worse. I thought we were making some headway, but his father went back into action, and the nightmares came back. All I can do is give this boy a place where he can rant and rave in perfect confidence. What do I know about recovering from torture?"
"Into action?" Neville echoed, curiously. He knew he wasn't supposed to ask too many questions, but it was hard to help her deal with these things if he didn't know what she was dealing with. "Is he a soldier?" he asked further, his expression changing as his brain registered the rest of what she was saying. "Torture"! Who the hell would torture a child?"
"Bastards, that's who," was her succinct response to his horrified response. She shook her head. "Not just him, but other children, too. They were all saved at the same time, by the same people, and it seems as though they are still in contact with each other. But this poor boy ....he was improving until his father put himself back in the firing line again. I can only assume it's some sort of paramilitary group; he doesn't know the details and I don't ask."
"Mmm," he murmured, fingers brushing her cheek as he pushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Maybe he should talk to his father about it?" he suggested, though that much seemed obvious.
"One of the reasons he's talking to me is because he doesn't want to tell his parents how much he's struggling," Demi said thoughtfully. "But you're right. The only person who can really reassure him is his father. I'll talk to him about broaching that subject next week." She managed a faint smile. "Thank you. I don't know why I didn't think of that myself."
"Because you're too busy worrying about the boy and taking his problems onto yourself to think of the obvious," he replied, leaning in to touch a kiss to her cheek, before looking her over with a smile. "You look gorgeous, but dinner is gonna be ready soon, if you wanna go get comfy first."
"I'm involved again, you mean," she mused wryly, but there was a smile on her face. Sometimes, she just couldn't help but care about her clients. Besides, if she was always detached and professional, she wouldn't be engaged to Neville, would she? His comment on her clothing made her laugh. "You're a saint, you know that' I'll go and change." She paused, rising up onto her toes to kiss him tenderly. "I love you."
He beamed a smile back at her, eyes shining with pride and happiness. Everyday, he was amazed at how much his life had changed and how happy he had become because of this woman. "Saint Neville, I know," he said, with a dimpled grin. "And I love you, too," he added, just for good measure, though she should already know that.
She purred softly, rubbing her cheek against his tenderly before breaking away, jogging up the stairs to their bedroom. Though her work look was very professional, at home she was definitely a relaxed animal. He had managed to cure her of wandering around butt naked most of the time, but that had only translated into shorts and t-shirts, even as the weather turned cold. Thus, when she came downstairs, Demi was displaying her long legs in a comfortable pair of shorts, her toes wriggling in the softness of her slippers.
And by the time she was finished getting changed, he had dinner on the table, candles lit and glasses of wine poured. He had another little surprise prepared, but it wasn't immediately obvious. He had the lights turned down, so that they were eating by candlelight, even though it wasn't a fancy meal. True to his word, they were having stir-fry.