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There's a quiet shuffle and a faint creak as one of the many bedroom doors in the Fantastic Four's living space slides open. Barefoot feet make purchase with the cool floor. There's a grounding feeling that comes with the step-slide her feet make alongside the tile. She looks worse for wear. Dressed in a ridiculously large t-shirt (did she help herself to that last night?) from Reed's room, Seo fights to maintain some semblance of dignity.
She combs her dark hair with her fingers, smoothing out long waves that have bunched through sleep. Her other hand presses hard against her forehead, nursing the headache that has settled behind her eyes.
She slowly treads into the kitchen and measures a few spoonfuls of coffee grinds into the pot and fills it with water.
It's only after she has the machine going about its work that she turns to inspect the room… and jump at the sight of someone on the couch. The quiet squeal she lets out is the only audible greeting she makes as she freezes to stare at Reed.
She remembers things.
*
Better than waking up hung over in Reed's bed and shirt WITH Reed. Probably. In any case, it doesn't take much. The soft noise is enough for an indrawn breath, a quiet mumbling noise, and a stretch that also has him mooshing his face around with his hands as he wakes. He is not very dignified first thing.
There is eventually a pause and an eye peeking between a pair of fingers at her, and he lets his eight sink back into the couch. Mmpf. "Good morning," he manages. He's even got a small, pretty normal half-smile for her. Auspicious. "You look…" Like hell. "…like you're feeling better." Still true.
*
There's a small, nearly imperceptible lift of Sue's chin that probably indicates some level of greeting and Seo's hands both drop to her sides as she stares somewhat blankly at Reed in return. The observation almost causes Sue to draw into herself with her shoulders curling inwards towards her heart.
She manages a weak smile, a polite kind of representation of her thoughts that are unspoken. Her gaze turns downwards, concealed by a thick veil of dark eyelashes before she forces her gaze upwards. A shy, nearly timid pull of her lips has her levelling a look at Reed. Her head tilts to the side inquisitively. "Good morning," she finally returns. Her hands clasp lightly in front of her. Her eyebrows lift at the observation, and with a feline smile, she turns on her heel. "Looks can be deceiving," she observes, helpfully.
*
An eyebrow goes up, but Reed just nods understanding without comment. He pushes himself up to sit, crossing his legs under him, but leaves the blanket across his lap. On hand falls atop the blanket, the other offers itself silently in her direction, palm up. It's… an offer? Request? Neither? Both? to come closer.
*
Silence causes her to twist to see Reed again. Her smile fades. With a twitch of her lips, trepidation reads over her expression, but bare feet along the floor staccato her to the couch. She slowly takes a seat and leans back, allowing her feet to rest atop the coffee table — a posture she would've found inexcusable a week ago.
"I…" There's an awkward tug of her lips. "I'm sorry," she finally states as she inspects the shirt she's pilfered from Reed's room. Her throat clears.
*
Reed doesn't look disappointed when she opts to sit rather than take the hand— he didn't exactly specify what he was hoping for. Company on the couch is certainly a good start. He shifts a little bit so he's close enough they won't have to talk loud, propping his upper arm on the back of the couch and his head against his hand. Facing her, of course.
"Forgiven," he replies promptly. Not even an attempt to convince her she shouldn't be apologizing. "We were worried," he admits. "But you're here now." There's a long pause. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't know that was in there. If I had—" he turns pensive, briefly. "…I probably still wouldn't keep it to myself."
*
Sue inhales a sharp breath and holds it. After a few beats she turns to face him, "Not your fault." And she means it. "I should've known better." Her eyes clamp shut and she emits a soft groan from the back of her throat as she presses her hands over her eyes. The pounding headache only adds insult to injury.
"Foresight is something I can't afford not to have." She forces her hands down and attempts to find Reed's eyes. "I just didn't think I had to have it this early. Maybe after it was defended. Maybe after it was published. Then it's fair game. I hadn't thought of the logical applications of what I was doing. I was just doing it."
*
Reed just listens, nods, as she says what she needs to, and when she's done, he reaches for her hand, but not insistantly. He suspects something to hang onto and a supportive squeeze might go a long way, though. "Not your fault, either," he says firmly. "You can't control what other people do. Plan for it as best you can, yes. But that doesn't make it your fault."
He falls silent for a few moments, and then adds, "You know… I used to think the worst thing… the worst thing would be seeing something I created turned to evil ends. I used to think about what I do, how I'd deal with it. How I'd get myself back to work," he muses, looking down briefly, before meeting her eyes again. "I hadn't considered what it'd be like if it happened to you instead, though." SO MUCH WORSE, REED.
*
The hand is accepted this time without second consideration. "But I could be prepared for it," Sue replies wryly with a touch of self-deprecation. "This is what my job has always been. I think through these things. I ask what should be done, not just what can be done." Her head shakes slightly. "I was short-sighted this time."
As Reed muses about what he'd do if something he'd created was warped into something ugly, Sue's eyes stare at the floor. Her jaw tightens. Her shoulders stiffen. Her eyes remain where they are and she notes, "I worry about it all the time. But not with this. This was… different." Her lips press together tightly. "I disappointed you," she observes softly. "All of you."
*
Reed squeezes her hand again. "I am not and have never been disappointed in you, Seo," he says quietly. "I was… upset about what these people did to your work. And you." Because it's all tied up together and Reed SMASH those monsters. If it were feasible. "I can't speak for Johnny or Ben, but I'm sure they'd say the same. The rest? The rest is live and learn."
*
The squeeze and reassurance do some work, but perhaps not quite the work intended. "I'm disappointed in me," she states. "I want to destroy it all. Every piece of it. Every page." She frowns and shakes her head. "I wish I'd never written any of it. And here's the thing, I'm not naive enough to believe that they wouldn't have done what they did anyways. They would've. I just would've been apart from it."
She shifts slightly to lean against Reed — the hand no longer satisfying the need for contact. "I just don't even know what to do next." She swallows hard. "There's so little that can be done. It's like the damage is already upon us. Fixing it? Impossible."
*
Well, it's more fair and productive to admit she's the one disappointed. So there's that. Reed is actually very quick to slip an arm around her shoulder and accept the lean, encouraging her with a light hand to make good use of his shoulder. He is not, as he's said, completely hopeless.
"Then we do what little there is to be done. Is it enough? it probably won't feel like it," he admits. "But all you can do is all you can do. So we do all we can and accept that we have."
*
She leans heavily into his shoulder, taking easy comfort in the way it accepts her weight. The thought is met with a silent nod of ascent. Yes they will do what little can be done. It won't be enough, but she'll find a way to look in the mirror again. Somehow.
Sue becomes very quiet. Painfully so. Her head aches, and her heart beat echoes in her head in a pulsating sort of pain. But even so, more weighs on her mind than her science follies. "Reed?" she whispers quietly. "I… really appreciate you." Pause. "I kissed you yesterday." There's another pause. "And more than that," her eyebrows knit together, "I came home yesterday to kiss you." Her jaw tightens. She's standing on the edge of a cliff, fully prepared to jump.
*
"Mmmm?" Reed responds to his name by inviting her to continue, and then lets her get it out. "Yes," he agrees mildly. "It was a bit surprising." There's a pause, and he leans back, freeing a hand to see if he can tilt her chin up a little.
And then, just slow enough that she can decline, he goes for a light… well, it's not really chaste enough to be a peck, but nowhere near what she laid on him the night before. Just a nice, light brush of lips against the corner of her mouth. Just long and firm enough to appreciate as meaningful.
"It's all going to be okay, Seo," he murmurs quietly, without pulling away all that far. He might also be bracing just a little, like he's anticipating some sort of disaster.
*
It takes little effort to draw Sue's chin upwards. And, unlike the very surprised Reed flailing from the day before, Sue remains very still at the contact. Her eyes lid lightly at the contact, and open gently when he speaks. Despite herself, Sue's lips edge upwards along the sides in traces of a delighted smile. But even as the smile takes root, it gives way to puzzlement. Quiet study urges a simple question with a very small cant of her head, "Why are you so tense?"
*
Reed can't help it— he can barely contain a laugh against her cheek when she asks. "Waiting for Johnny to kick the door down with pizza again."