houseofcards_rp | [ota] you're gonna go far, kid

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[ota] you're gonna go far, kid

There are very few people, particularly in the Deck, who wouldn't describe Evan McCartney as 'an annoyingly happy camper.'

And he is happy. He's happy to be getting his degree sorted out. He's happy to be looking at jobs which will allow him to be productive--to actually use what bit of a brain he has properly, the way it's meant to be used. He's happy to be in love and waking up every morning next to the woman he's in love with. He's happy to run with the dogs and spend afternoons with his parents and run errands for his sister. He's even happy to get into fights with cousins who look down their noses and young idiots who need to get their heads out of a generation far too outdated to still be crafting culture.

He's happy. He's Evan McCartney.

But he's quiet these days. He's not entirely certain why. He's been singing less. Shouting less. Simply moderating his voice far better than he ever has, as if the concept of 'an indoor voice' has sunk in more than twenty years after being introduced. It sits funny in his shoulders.

So he does what he can. He gets up early to study; makes Riley breakfast and takes the dogs on a run. He goes to throw punches at bags until it's time to ice his shoulder and suck on his lip so the bleeding will stop. And he goes, ultimately, to lie on his back in the snowed-upon Green, because he's not entirely certain where to go when a body feels pensive.

Someone should teach him how to do 'pensive.'

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First? First he gets the dogs bounding up, Chewie jumping over his chest and yipping as Baxter snuffles at his hand. Eventually, the two run off to play in the smow, chasing each other over the Green.

Eventually, there'll be a warm scarf and extra sweatshirt dropped on his head. Eventually, there'll be a jumble of limbs collapsing next to him on the snow. Said jumble of limbs holds out a box to him, giving him a muffled hello.

Her mouth is stuffed with warm chocolate cookie, you see. There are more in the box.

It's scientifically impossible, he's fairly certain, not to laugh while Chewie and Baxter are around. There's a good deal of cuddling to be had, yes, and a bit of pushing puppy noses and kisses out of the way, but also always necessarily a lot of laughing.

And, even on bad days, it's very tough not to smile when Riley's around. There's the tiniest bit of a huff as she drops the sweatshirt, and another as he lugs himself from his back to sitting properly to pull it on.

There's nevertheless a very bright smile on his lips as he reaches to grab a cookie. "You're some kinda angel, Ri."

"I know," she informs him cheerily, snuggling up next to his side and leaning her head against his. "You were gone awhile, so I decided to go into major housewife mode. The kitchen is a mess."

It takes a couple moments of chewing and watching the dogs before she asks, "what's wrong?"

The shoulder that isn't stiffened up shrugs. They'll go back soon enough--and he'll get to cleaning soon enough. It's a fair price to pay for delicious baked goods.

There's certainly a pause to the chewing at her question. "...why's something gotta be wrong?"

"I don't know. I guess... it's just weird to see you flopped in the snow without making angels or anything," she admits, tugging her scarf up over her nose slightly. "Figured something isn't quite right. You've been quiet."

"Ah." Damn. This is the problem of having a loving relationship where you spend a lot of time with someone and they get very keyed in to your patterns of behaviour.

There's the tiniest bit of a sigh. A moment to pull the scarf around his neck properly before leaning to kiss her shoulder lightly.

"Just... workin' on me. You know how that goes."

She reaches for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Y'need help?" she asks softly, reaching to smooth her fingers over his cold cheek. "You can... talk t'me if you need that."

"You help."

In such an easy, general sense. Being able to squirm now and get an arm around her shoulders--to squeeze her hand and look out over the snow with her warmth next to him--made things settle that much more into place.

"Cookies help." And his head ducks, forehead bumping to hers. "It's just-- growin' pains, Ri. Promise. Workin' to feel like..."

But there's not a good word for it. That's where this pensiveness comes from.

Riley wrinkles her nose, nuzzling hers against his with a smile on her face. "Why do you think I baked them in the first place?" she asks with a little laugh, though she grows more solemn as he continues. "... working towards something better'r worse? Because if it's the former... I don't think you have to worry about knowing what it is s'long as you feel like you're gettin' there, y'know?"

Of course there's a pause. There's hurdles he's pushing himself over, and he's not someone who can do this sort of mental gymnastic smoothly.

"You know I'm-- happy, right?"

"... I hope so. I don't want you t'be unhappy." She shifts slightly in the snow. "Not when I'm not, at least."

"I am. You make me-- so happy, Ri."

And it's important that things start there. That there not be any doubts in her mind about this.

She nods, raising his hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. "I know that. I... I can see that much."

"Good." Good and important. Good and important and prompting a leaning over for a brief but proper kiss, cold lips to cold lips. "But that ain't stoppin' me from just-- gettin' stir-crazy trying to get used to... being here."

All the time. Without stop. For the longest amount of time he'd been here without stop since childhood.

Her breath comes out in a surprised huff at that. "But Evan-- then... why don't you leave? I mean," she hurries to add on, "not forever. But if it's hard, then... there's nothing wrong with going Outside now and then. We could even go together."

"Haven't figured out how yet. Can't-- do what I was doin' before."

Particularly not if she wanted to come with him. That was completely out of the picture.

"Besides," and he can't help the sigh. "It's... When I was a kid, you know? I-- wanted t' have a house. Have dogs. Have-- a wife and kids and be-- here. That's been... the whole dream. An' it's-- weird, realizin' that's... maybe not."

"If... if you need to find a new dream, then that's what needs to happen." She says quietly, leaning in a little closer for warmth. "And I'll be here to help you. Just... it's... I..."

It's hard to say she worries, in so many words.

The sigh is soft. Shifting to kiss her forehead is even softer.

"Dream's still got you in it, y'know?"

"You say that as if you could get rid of me at this point," she teases, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment. "I believe you."

"Won't ever want to." Would, however, want to tug and get her more sprawled across his lap, away from his sore shoulder. "Y' think we could... raise kids with me poppin' in and out?"

The smile eases off her face at that, and she ponders the question seriously as she ducks her cold nose against his scarf. "I don't know," she finally answers honestly, glancing up at him. "I... I don't know that it would work."

Well. There's that, then.

"So let's... figure a way for me t' stay here and not go crazy."

Because giving her up wasn't an option. Giving up the dream of marrying her and having children with her wasn't an option either.

She lets out her breath in a rushed exhale that too clearly betrays the anxiety she'd been feeling before his answer. He wants to work towards that. He wants what she wants. It's a good affirmation, even if it's something she'll always worry about.

"If you had... something you could do? Something that's yours, I mean? Not just chores like walking the dogs or things like practicing sparring and all that. More like... stuff you're working towards? ... I dunno."

"I mean, 'm working toward the whole CPA thing."

Which was such a good, clean out. A good use of his mind, a steady sort of job to be in; an aboveboard sort of life.

"But, I mean-- ideally, Ri, that'd have me travelling, when I got there. Managing accounts Outside."

She bites her lip, then asks, "how long, then? I mean... how long from now until you think you'd be, like, in a job like that?"

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