=XF= 310 |Pete| - Residences - Chemeketa Military Base
The front door opens into a wide and airy space lit by full-length windows on the far wall. The California mountains spread lush beyond the glass, with the reservoir a glitter of light. To one side stands a coat closet, and to the other, a watercloset. A few steps further in, the kitchen curves around with a small stove, refrigerator, and sink. The counter wraps to form an island, beyond which the rest of the apartment is visible. The living area is wide-set with full length windows allowing California sunshine to spill across the thick carpet. Glass doors slide open, leading out onto a small stone terrace.

An alcove just past the kitchen counter opens to two rooms: one is a spare room, given over to any number of uses, while the other is the master suite, startlingly luxurious in choice of bathroom fixtures. The view from the large window in the bedroom is marvelous, sharing the same prospect as the living room.

Morning rays flood the living room, insistently landing in Kitty's eyes despite the arm flung over them in an attempt to stop it. Waking slowly, her expression wrinkles at the taste in her mouth as tongue run over fuzzy teeth. Curls that were actually done last night are even messier this morning for that fact, blanket drapped over the red dress that decided to scrunch up awkwardly in the night. As her arm slides away, it takes a moment for bleary wakefulness to process that it's in fact not her apartment and then another second to place where she is. Another wince, she gets to her feet slowly, dragging the blanket that she doesn't remember grabbing around her shoulders. The bedroom door receives a light tap and a low question of, "Pete?"

There is a muffled curse from inside the bedroom, followed by a sharply irritable, "I'll be out in a minute." Footsteps sound, heading away from the door. The toilet flushes, water rattles, and all told it is several minutes before Pete emerges, scowling down at the cuff of one of his shirtsleeves as he tugs it firmly down over the trailing edge of an angry, scabbed line. There is a sliver of bedroom visible behind him before he pulls the door shut, including the unmade bed, and the half-empty suitcase tipped on its side beside it.

"I came by to talk, last night," Kitty starts hesitantly, taking a small step back to give him room. "But, you weren't here, so I waited." The explanation is paired with an apologetic wince, hazel eyes focusing on first the cuff and then the room and finally trailing up to Pete when there's no excuse of anything else to look at.

"I'd noticed," Pete says, a little dryly. He glances up as he finally gets the sleeve settled, and studies her for a long moment, expression unreadable. "I'd imagine being completely pissed had something to do with it."

A blush creeps along cheeks as Kitty nods, small and embarrassed movement. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," she offers wryly, lips pursing together. "But, I do want to talk. Do you want me to come back later, or...?"

"I was under the impression we'd covered things rather thoroughly already." Pete steps wide around her, heading for the kitchen and the comfort of habit. "Is there actually anything left to talk about?"

Kitty follows along, like a duckling with her trailing blanket. "I made a mistake, confusing personal and professional. And thinking because I had to force you to tell me that you didn't mean it." Taking a deep breath, she continues firmly, "If you say you trust me, I believe it."

Pete laughs at that, though it is low and rather mirthless. "Which of us are you trying to convince, Pryde?" He flips the coffee maker on, and turns to face her, leaning back against the counter with his arms folded over his chest in an oddly protective gesture. "This isn't just going to go away."

"I know, Wisdom. We need to--... If you want to, we should figure out a way to find a compromise on this," Kitty says slowly, frowning in thought as she phrases her words carefully. "I believe you trust me, but I don't feel that trust. That's partly my fault, for blurring that professional thing." Watching Pete, she looks vaguely apologetic as she tries to read his mood.

Pete is closed off, more even than usual. Both the careful neutrality of his expression and the contained nature of his body language speak to distance carefully held. "I'm not certain this is the sort of thing you compromise on. There will /always/ be things I can't tell you. And vice versa, given what we do."

Habitually, Kitty's teeth gnaw onto her bottom lip, working at a loose piece of skin as Pete answers, weight shifting uncomfortably. "I want to try," she answers softly, something pleading in her tone. "Remy said that maybe I needed to not take business personal and that you could take more time away from it."

Pete's gaze sharpens inexplicably at that, though after a moment, he shakes his head. "It's not just a switch you can flip on and off. LeBeau should know better than to suggest otherwise."

"What do you think, then?" Kitty questions, voice attempting at neutral but shading more towards desperate. Pausing to take a deep breath, she looks away, towards the counter, the sink. Anywhere but Wisdom. "Or did you just want to end this?" Her words are slightly shakey.

Pete raises a hand to scrub it over his face, keeping silent for several moments before he finally says, "I think if you're genuine about wanting to work things out, you need to think hard about just how much secrecy you can live with. Just how much you need to be /told/, so that you don't feel distrusted."

"I want to be told more about you, Wisdom. If you share things with me, not just necessarily your past... I don't know where the line is, but I can figure it out. If you're patient with me." The words aren't all one breath, but it seems to be as Kitty answers. Tightening the blanket around her shoulders, she looks back to Pete with lips held tightly together in anticipation.

"I'm not the most patient man in the world," Pete warns, just a hint wryly. "Or the best at sharing - I'm not entirely certain I actually know /how/. But I can give it a shot." He tips his head slightly to one side to peer at her. "As long as you promise to save any future discussions of trust for at least twenty-four hours after we catch a mole."

There is the smallest hint of a smile as Kitty shuffles a bit forward, a slightly teasing, "I'll do you one better. I will keep them for at least twenty-four hours after anything overly stressful." Her toe scuffs a bit against the kitchen floor before she takes another step forward. "I'm sorry, love."

"Yeah," Pete says quietly. His hand lifts briefly from where it rests against the opposite arm, then drops back in an odd, abortive movement. "So'm I. But I've got a feeling this has been a long time coming."

"I think it was building up," Kitty admits, nodding shortly. "I shouldn't have put it off. We should have been talking. Really talking." Her brows draw together at that, a hint of censorship that's self-directed.

"That's as may be," Pete replies, eyes narrowing slightly as he notes that shift in expression. "But we both put it off, more than once."

"But, I was the one bothered." The blame is shifted back towards her with that statement, Kitty shrugging a shoulder in a gesture. She does seem honestly surprised to have eyes narrowed at her, lips pursing together as she closes more distance between them to crowd into Pete's personal space.

Pete straightens a little as Kitty crowds in, though he doesn't shy away. One hand comes up to brush her sleep-tangled curls back, fingertips grazing across her cheek. "So. Where do we go from here, then?" Apparently, she who takes the blame gets the ball in her court, too.

The beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of Kitty's mouth at the touch, something lightening from her shoulders. "We try to pick back up and be better, and talk," she answers as her hand raises to curl fingers around Pete's arm, right below the elbow.

Pete winces a little, though he covers it quickly enough, and murmurs a quiet, "Careful." He swallows once, and studies her intently for a long moment before saying, "I'm not sure we've been dropped long enough for it to count as picking up, but..."

Eyebrows rise in question, Kitty dropping her hand to the cuff of the sleeve and attempting to pull it up gently. "Then we just continue," she corrects softly as her attention focuses on the arm.

Pete reaches to catch her hand, as though to trap it against his wrist. "It's just a scratch," he assures. "It's fresh, is all. Means it stings a bit."

"I'm going to see it before it heals, Pete," Kitty points out wryly, eyebrows twitching further up. "Unless you plan to withhold sex in punishment." Her eyes narrow, however, to playfully imply that this is not a good idea.

"I'm a bit terrified to think of what you might do in retaliation," Pete replies, countering wry with wry. He does drop his hand away from hers, however, letting her pull the sleeve up to expose a shallow gash along the meat of his forearm, held shut with a line of narrow bandages. "I /am/ going to be away a while, though."

"What happened? Why are you going away?" Kitty questions in a worried breath, fingers tracing along side the bandages with a light stroke.

"Got in a bit of a fight," Pete admits. "--And there was a reprise in the car park, after." His skin pebbles beneath her fingers, and he smiles, faint and very wry. "It's really not that bad, just inconvenient. And nothing to do with why I'm leaving. --I just need some space to rethink some things. And I'd imagine a fair portion of the team wouldn't mind me going missing for a while."

Fingers don't stop when they reach the end of the wound, moving up and to Pete's neck, curling around the back of it as she stretches up to murmur, "I will mind. What are you rethinking?" Using the movement, she stretches against him, trying to get closer as the blanket slips from her shoulders.

Pete slips his uninjured arm around Kitty's waist to pull her in tight against him. "I think you're the exception, love," he murmurs, and there is something ever so faintly rueful to the undercurrent of amusement in his voice. He leans down to brush his lips across hers in a quick, light kiss before answering. "What I'm doing here - the why and how of it. I need to sort that out, I think, if I'm to stay on."

Her body tensing despite her natural reaction to meld against Pete, Kitty asks with forced lightness, "And if you can't sort it out and don't stay on?" Her gaze, however, is quite serious as she looks up at him.

"I don't know," Pete admits, eyes shadowing a little. "I'm not /looking/ to leave, and it might be a moot point anyhow, if some of the more perennial problems get addressed as a result of this latest disaster."

"What do you mean? Like what?" Kitty pries softly, trying to relax against him again. Rising on tiptoes, she brushes another kiss against Pete's jaw. "I was serious about living together. If you were to leave..." There's a wince, blush light but there in the light of her feeling stupid for bringing it back up.

"How we recruit, the piecemeal training." Pete glances briefly aside, some of the weariness that two days have not been nearly enough to shake slipping into the set of his features. "I think things might well have gone differently if a few more people knew what to look for, or guard against. If we were a bit more cohesive." He utters a quiet, shaky laugh, and raises his free hand to stroke her cheek, as though tracing the line of that blush. "Don't tell me you'd run off with me."

At the sentence, her face reddens more, turning into the caress as Kitty answers, "Maybe. Depending on where you'd want to run off to." She says it teasingly, a smile flashing up at Pete. "It might be hard to fix, the training and how we work together. I'd guess that the way we recruit would be a lot easier to change, though." She sighs and points out softly, "We need more permanent leadership, and not just from a man who just emails us and talks on a box at memorials."

"Tour the world, maybe," Pete teases in return. "Before settling down to see how long respectibility can last. --And you're right. But /that/ would be the hard sell, I think." He grimaces a little. "I've got a feeling there's not enough trust put in us to delegate /that/ much responsibility, and to be frank - I don't think many of the agents here are capable of taking it on."

"I'm glad the decisions and responsibility isn't on my shoulders, to be frank," Kitty answers firmly, shaking her head at the entire thought. Fingers play lightly at his hair, stroking it softly before they trail over the line of his neck. "I could use a tour of the world. I haven't been out much, except for when you took me to Monte Carlo."

"Hmmm," Pete murmurs. "We need to fix that. Where would you want to go?" His hand slides away from her cheek to curl loosely in her hair instead, the other pressed firm against the small of her back. He leans in to kiss her again, thoroughly this time, rather than teasing-light.

There's something a bit desperate as Kitty returns the kiss, clinging as her other arm wraps around his neck as well. It's only reluctantly that she breaks off, not moving her face away as she answers, "France, Japan, Greece. I'm not picky. You?"

"I've never been to Venice," Pete admits. "Or Berne." He tips his head slighly, so his forehead rests against hers. "Pick your favourite. Somewhere to start, that you absolutely wouldn't want to miss."

"That's going to need some planning. I'll get back to you on that," Kitty murmurs back, a smile wide on her lips as her thumb brushes along his neck. "Where are you off to to think?"

"London," Pete replies. "But not for a few days longer, at the very least. There's a fair bit still to do here." He straightens a little, enough to give her a quick, half-teasing smile. "But I think I can afford to take the morning off."

Kitty's face scrunches at the sentence, bargaining, "It's Sunday. You can take the day off, I say." The curve of her brow is suggestive as she eyes that teasing smile appreciatively.

"Morning and evening," Pete counter-offers, halfway rueful. "But I do need to put some time in this afternoon. Even if I'm certain you could distract me from it."

"I will try to be good," Kitty answers, taking the compromise with a smile before her hands drop to the hem of his shirt to pull on it lightly. It's not likely they get out of the kitchen before the obligatory makeup. She probably is even true to her word and lets Pete work in the afternoon.

They do actually talk about issues rather than avoiding them!