Chapter 18
Alex
The film began, and the comfortable, domestic bubble reasserted itself, only now layered with the sharp afterglow of the most fucking perfect forty minutes of chaos. We were steadily eating, both of us getting pretty full on the vast spread Dr. Carter had ordered.
By the time the phone first rang in the film, signalling the start of the classic opening sequence, Dr. Carter rolled her eyes.
"Honestly," she scoffed, popping a piece of salmon nigiri into her mouth. "The woman has practically no survival skills. Who answers an unknown number while they're alone in a house that large?”
I smirked, secretly enjoying that she was actually watching my favourite film. Fuck, stop with the feelings, Alex.
But as the intensity upped and the first serious jump scare hit the screen, I noticed Dr. Carter subtly stiffen beside me.
Her relaxed posture shifted, becoming tense, and I fucking swore I could hear her heart rate increasing even over the film score.
She tried to hide it, keeping her focus glued to the screen, but every quick camera movement or sudden sound made her flinch. She was obviously scared.
I couldn’t fucking believe it. This was the woman who, without a second thought, had taken down a guy twice her size just because he was threatening and about to hurt me.
This was the woman who terrified everyone around her, whose control was absolute, whose presence demanded obedience.
Yet here she was, clearly rattled watching a horror film from the nineties.
The sheer contradiction was fascinating, and honestly, unbelievably endearing. Fuck, stop liking her.
I leaned in a little closer, fucking unable to resist the opportunity to gently tease her. I kept my voice low so she could hear it over the film's tense dialogue.
"You okay there, Dr. Carter?" I asked, my lips brushing the curve of her ear. "You look a little... tense. Is it the lack of survival skills upsetting you, or is Ghostface proving too much for the formidable Dr. Carter?"
She immediately glared at me, the expression a fleeting flash of her usual command, but it was undermined by the wide, slightly panicked look in her eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous, Alex," she hissed, her voice barely a whisper. "I simply find the sound mixing unnecessarily jarring, and the stupid woman's poor decision-making irritating."
Despite her denial, her hand found my thigh beneath the blanket, her grip tightening almost painfully as the villain appeared in the reflection of the TV screen. It was a purely instinctual reaction, a desperate anchor. Fuck, was she cute? Was 'cute' really a word I would use for this supervillain?
I reached down and placed my own hand over hers, squeezing gently, offering solid comfort rather than mockery. "It's okay," I murmured softly, my tone completely serious then. "He's just an actor in a cheap mask.”
She took a shaky breath, turning her head just enough to look at me.
The fear was still visible, but the anger had faded, replaced by a genuine, relieved vulnerability.
"You know, Alex," she said, her voice regaining a little of its steely edge, “If you keep mocking me, I’ll just assume you're being a brat and have to do something about it.”
I just grinned, tightening my fingers around hers. “You do what you need to do to get through this.”
She glared at me again, but when Ghostface jumped out and began tackling the woman on screen, she actually jumped.
Fuck, she was cute. I leaned over and grabbed her wine glass; she snatched it from me and took a large gulp that I tried not to laugh at.
I drank some of my own before refilling the glasses, never letting go of her hand as I moved.
I sank back into the sofa, pulling the blanket up over us. As I let go of her hand, her eyes flicked downward—a subtle, fleeting panic at losing her anchor that made my heart lurch.
She looked up at me, finding me already leaned back against the pillows. I lifted my arm and raised a single eyebrow, offering her the space to settle in.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth for a fraction of a second before giving in.
Sinking against me, she pressed her body flush to my side, her arm wrapping around my waist and clutching tightly at my shirt.
I lowered my arm, holding her close as my other hand instinctively sought hers again.
Without a second thought, I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head as she nestled down into my chest.
What the actual fuck was I doing? I was not doing the soppy horror film cuddle thing, was I? For fuck's sake, I was.
The next hour of the film passed in a strange, silent tableau of horror movie clichés and unexpected intimacy.
Dr. Carter remained rigidly attached to my side, her breath hitching slightly during the particularly gruesome parts.
Her hand, initially gripping my shirt out of pure fear, gradually softened its hold, becoming less a desperate anchor and more a simple, comfortable presence.
I found myself completely distracted from the film, focusing entirely on her small, guarded movements: the way her head rested perfectly beneath my chin, the warmth of her body radiating through the thin fabric, and the slight, involuntary flinches she still tried to conceal.
At one point, the suspenseful music built to a deafening crescendo.
Dr. Carter squeezed my ribs, burying her face into my shoulder with a desperate sigh.
I instinctively rubbed the length of her arm with my free hand, soothing her without conscious thought.
But fuck me, it felt incredibly natural, completely right.
When the tension finally broke and the killer was revealed (for the first time, anyway), she let out a long, slow sigh of relief that tickled my neck.
Fuck, I liked having her so close to me.
She lifted her head slightly, her gaze meeting mine in the dim light of the screen.
Her eyes were wide, still a touch vulnerable, but utterly relaxed then.
I actually had to stop myself from leaning down and kissing her—the moment felt too fragile to break.
"That was utterly ridiculous," she pronounced, her voice soft and a little shaky, a clear attempt to regain the intellectual high ground.
I just chuckled, resisting the urge to tease her again. "Sure, Dr. Carter. Utterly ridiculous."
She punched my arm lightly, a surprisingly playful gesture, before resettling against me, her body immediately seeking my warmth again.
The film finally wound down to its climactic, twisted end.
I watched, a wide smile spreading across my face, as Dr. Carter reacted to the reveal of the two killers.
She was less frightened then and far more animated, leaning forward slightly as the main woman on screen started to kick arse and fight back.
"Finally!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with approval. "Took her long enough to stop relying on terrible life choices."
I was practically fucking giddy, watching her express herself so openly. Her eyes were bright, her composure completely shattered by the sheer adrenaline of the final confrontation. Seeing this spontaneous, passionate side of her sent those stupid, familiar fucking tingles racing through me again.
Dr. Carter seemed to notice my intense gaze—my blatant adoration, probably—and realised that she'd lost control of her emotions in front of me. She immediately tried to compose herself, her shoulders pulling back, her expression hardening back into that rigid composure I knew so well.
Before she could fully retreat, I reached up and gently ran my thumb along the curve of her jaw, catching her eye.
"Don't," I murmured softly, the request coming out without conscious thought. The rare vulnerability I saw lingering in her eyes—the mix of relief, excitement, and a little shame—was too precious to allow her to hide. Fuck, what was she doing to me?
Dr. Carter’s attempt at reinstating her usual severe mask faltered under my touch. She held my gaze, her expression a mix of uncertainty and reluctant acceptance. The tension left her shoulders again, replaced by a residual softness.
"Don't what, Alex?" she asked, the question a low test, her voice quiet.
"Don't shut down," I clarified, keeping my tone gentle but firm. "It's alright to look... impressed. And maybe a little terrified." I let a tiny, teasing smile touch my lips, but my eyes remained serious. "It's good to see you like that. Just for me."
The vulnerability deepened in her eyes, transforming into something that looked suspiciously like genuine affection. She leaned her cheek into my thumb, a small, trusting movement that made my chest tighten.
"You are exceptionally bold tonight," she noted, her voice regaining its low, dangerous register, but there was no bite to it. It sounded like a promise.
She turned her head and pressed a soft kiss directly into the centre of my palm, her lips lingering for a moment. The heat of her mouth against my skin was a quiet shock. Then, she pulled back, her hand moving to stroke my cheek. Her thumb traced the line of my jaw with a feather-light touch.
"Well, maybe it's the wine," I replied, offering the excuse as a joke, even though I knew—we both knew—it was not. Fuck. It was just her.
Dr. Carter’s smirk widened, acknowledging the lie. "Sure, it's just the wine."
She leaned in and kissed me softly, the contact brief but deep with implication. She then checked her phone, the screen lighting up her face momentarily. "It's still early," she murmured, her gaze returning to mine. "If you want to watch the next one.”
Fuck, that shouldn't have made my stomach twist, but it did.
I smiled, slightly stunned. "Wait, you want to watch the next one?"