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The good thing about Abby - well, one of the many good things really, it wasn't like Connor really had to work hard pick and choose her good attributes since he was certain she didn't actually have a bad side - was that she was good at taking action once her mind had been made up. So two days after she had learned about his frankly obscenely large crush on her, they went out on a date. She'd worn a dress, he'd tucked his shirt in, and they'd gone out to dinner. It had been good, delicious, even, and that had led up to another great thing about Abby, as, once it had become very clear that Connor's wallet hadn't managed to make it into the back pocket of his dress jeans, she'd just rolled her eyes in what he was 79% certain was a fond way and paid.
And a third good thing was that once they'd gotten to the door, Abby had sort of done some strangely compelling kung-fu move, whipped him around, pressed him to the door and started to kiss him. Her mouth tasted like the wine from dinner (he was pretty positive his tasted like the seafood pasta from dinner, but his breath mints also hadn't escaped his other set of trousers) and was warm against his. He kissed back without hesitation and only a short delay due to surprise, and it was brilliant, fantastic even. He opened his mouth slightly and Abby's tongue stroked in against his, much sexier and infinitely warmer than the icy fingers she simultaneously brushed beneath the hem of his shirt (and when exactly had that gotten pulled out?).
"You know Abby, there are these things called gloves," he spluttered in a pitch that was a great deal higher than he would ever publicly acknowledge (icicle fingers! It was warranted!). He was, however, smiling as Abby pulled him back in by the belt loops.
Everything smelled slightly like her perfume, floral and feminine. He cautiously lifted his hands to her face, stroking his thumbs over the soft skin of her cheek. Everything about Abby was so soft, so smooth and perfect. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, and he was just starting to lose himself in their kiss again when her icy fingers slipped beneath the hem of his trousers and his pants and stroked adventurously downward.
"Whoa," he said, his face flushing hot in the cold night air, pulling back so quickly he actually hit his head on the door behind him. "Don't you," he started, then swallowed, tilting his head to the side and attempting to grin (though the world was spinning slightly, possibly from concussion or all the blood rushing simultaneously to his cheeks and groin, so he was pretty positive it came out as sort of a demented leer). "Don't you think it's a bit soon for that sort of...thing? It's our first date, after all!"
Abby cocked an eyebrow. "Connor," she said, pushing against his hands which currently held her a decent distance away, "I've known you for two years. I'd hardly say we're strangers."
"Well yes, obviously," he said, flustered, "but, don't you think we should take this a little more... slowly?"
The other eyebrow joined the first and Abby pulled back. "Two. Years. Any more slowly and we'd be glacial." She frowned. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?"
"What? No! No. I just think this is a little fast, is all. We ought to, you know, savour the moment."
She blinked slowly, her eyebrows creeping upwards towards her hairline. He tried to look earnest. She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked at the ground. "Fine," she said, her voice terse. "That's fine."
Somehow, the dull glare of her eyes as she looked up at him didn't exactly leave him feeling relieved. "Well, all right then," he said uncertainly. "Um, goodnight?"
Abby grunted a sour sounding response and crossed her arms over her chest, an expectant look on her face.
Connor licked his lips, then realized why she was waiting with her fingers tapping out an increasingly irritable-sounding rhythm on her arm. "Oh, that's right, you, we live together don't we. Ha ha," he said, mortified, fumbling for his keys, "I'll just let you in then!"
****
The next morning was awkward, with Abby giving him a guarded look that turned slightly more speculative as he boldly gave her a kiss (on the cheek).
"Pancakes?" he asked briskly, fighting the blush that was creeping up his cheeks from her scrutiny.
"No, thanks," she said, holding up a half-empty bowl of cereal.
"Right," he said, and looked forlornly at the box of mix, wondering if it was really worth it to make pancakes for just one person.
"So," Abby said, just as Connor set the milk down on the counter, having decided in favour of one-man pancakes. "About this 'going slow' business. What's that about?" Her eyes narrowed, and she waved her spoon at his lower body. "You're not trying to hide some sort of rash from Caroline or-"
"What? No! No, god no!" he said.
She raised an eyebrow. "Did you panic or something then?"
Connor opened his mouth before actually forming his reply in his head, so what came out was something like this: "well, erm, yes - no, not, I mean, you're not scary or anything, but."
Fortunately, Abby was used to that. "I know it's probably been a long time, Con, but I promise not to judge you or anything-"
"What?" he said, suddenly aware of a newer and shinier personal complex looming on the horizon, "girls really, they do that sort of thing?"
"Well, some," Abby said, waving her spoon in a manner that was supposed to be dismissive and really just sent milk droplets flying everywhere, "but I wouldn't. I mean, it's you and me, you know?"
"Uhh," Connor said, "well, no."
Abby put down the spoon and walked around the counter. He backed up into the refrigerator, and hit his head on the freezer handle (this was becoming an unpleasant trend). She followed him, looking sort of amused and affectionate all at once, and her hands were still cold as she held onto his arms, thumbs rubbing against the sensitive insides of his elbows. "Well, you said it yourself - you love me, and I usually love you back-"
"Usually?"
"Shut up," she said, and it had taken him a while to recognize the warmth in the way she always said that (or possibly it had taken a while for there to be warmth in it, it was difficult to say) but it was there, and she smiled at him, bright and happy. "What I'm trying to say is, there's no reason to be nervous! I promise, I'll only bite if you want me to." The tilt of her head and the crook of her mouth was just the slightest bit wicked, and Connor swallowed heavily.
"Uhh," he said eloquently, and proceeded to stutter his way through one of the most embarrassing confessions of his life (after that time with his mother and those gym socks). "It's not that I don't want to. I do, obviously," he waved his arms up and down her body in flail he hoped came across as complimentary, "I mean, who wouldn't, it's just, I'm, I've never, with a, with a woman. Before, that is. With myself, obviously, but never. Not in the presence, or anything. Just. No."
There was a moment of silence in the room, interrupted only by the clock ticking in the corner and his heart pounding in his chest, with the second thing beating out a far, far more rapid tempo.
Abby's brow creased. "Are you saying you're a virgin, Connor?"
And like clockwork, blessed, blessed clockwork... their phones went off.
*****
"This conversation is not over yet," she warned him later as they drove at a rather frightening pace through heavy traffic. Whoever had decided they needed police sirens installed on their personal vehicles as a safety precaution obviously had been out of their minds. "It's just temporarily... delayed."
Connor swallowed. "Okay," he said weakly, his knuckles white on the passenger door, "can you watch the road now?"
*****
Still later, after a personally humiliating encounter with a brontosaurus suffering some sort of sinus infection, Abby's voice rang out boldly in the small room. "I still haven't forgotten!" She said, her volume making it quite clear that she was very close to him.
"Abby!" Connor said with a squeak, covering his bits with soapy hands. "What- how did you get in here?! This is the men's shower, just- out! Out! We'll talk about it later, I promise!"
*****
When he was dressed and free from dinosaur fluids he walked out into the corridor and spotted Abby leaning against the opposite wall, her arms crossed over her chest. Her glare was tangible.
"I wasn't going to run away, Abby," he lied, "you didn't have to... lurk."
Her eyes narrowed. "Home," she said shortly, "now."
*****
Her patience didn't last the entire ride home, apparently, since they'd just passed the grocery store parking lot about 5 miles from the house when she demanded, in a voice more terse than the one time she'd caught him putting her laundry into the dryer ("It's shrinkable, Connor, that's why it says line dry!"), "pull over."
Connor was nothing if not trained to respond to that tone by now, and pulled over to the side of the road. "What, are you-"
She kissed him, her hands soft on his face. "I don't care," she told him in between kisses, "I don't care that you're a virgin and sort of an idiot, I don't care that you want to take it slow, I can do that."
"Oh," Connor said, bemused and very distracted by all the kissing. "I was just mostly embarrassed and didn't know how to tell you, we don't really have to take it slow, I mean if you want to, that would be fine. Erm, sex, I mean."
Abby pulled back and smiled at him, and the way it lit up her face made his chest clench tight. "Okay, Connor," she said softly, and then the car behind them honked very loudly because apparently when he'd pulled over he'd actually not pulled into any sort of parking space so much as he had just another lane, which he was now blocking.
"Bloody, okay," he said, startled, "fine, just - Ahh! Enough of the horn! I'm going, I'm going!"
Abby's giggling was nearly hysterical for the few miles, high pitched and happy, and Connor found himself hoping that if someone ever made a soundtrack of his life, her laughter would be the main theme of the rest of it.
*****
Later, while lying in bed with Abby's head pillowed on his chest and every muscle in his body turned to very pleasant jello, Connor smiled at the ceiling. "That was great," he said, his voice slurred with imminent sleep and impossibly great joy. "Do you know the one thing that could make that better, though?"
"No," Abby mumbled into his nipple, her own voice sleepy and seemingly content, "but I've a suspicion you're going to tell me."
"If your hands weren't so bloody cold. Seriously, you might have some sort of medical condition, have you looked into it? Ouch!" he said, rolling ineffectively away and batting at her hands, laughter bubbling up in his chest, "no pinching!"