R. Mathewson - Checkmate

When she buried her face in her hands and sobbed loudly, he threw the bastard keeping him locked up with her a murderous glare. The crying didn’t stop, oh no, it got worse and soon the officer was fumbling with his keys and couldn’t open the cell fast enough.

“You know what? You can both go home. I’ll talk to my sergeant. You don’t need to be here and I’m sure you can clear this whole misunderstanding up with the school board tomorrow,” the officer said, opening the door and gesturing for them to leave, looking close to begging them to go.

“Are you sure?” he asked as Rory somehow managed to sob louder.

“Yes!”

“Thank you,” he said, comforting Rory as he guided her out of the cell, but the poor thing was still pretty upset and wouldn’t stop crying. She didn’t stop crying while they were being signed out, handed their personal items, or when they walked out of the building. He was at a loss at what to do by the time he helped her in the truck.

As he walked around the truck to the driver’s side, he resigned himself to a night of sitting in the damn nursery that he’d built her so that she could gush over every little sock, diaper and teddy bear just to make her happy. He took a deep breath before he opened the door, climbed in, and started the truck. It wasn’t until he pulled out the parking lot that he realized that his wife was no longer making rather frightening sobbing noises.

“Do you think that we could stop at Roy’s Dinner on the way home? I have a craving for their apple pie and hot cocoa,” Rory said, sounding chipper and scaring the shit out of him.

“You want to stop and get pie?” he asked, cautiously, knowing that the wrong tone could get him killed.

“Mmmhmm,” she said, nodding as she reached over and started playing with the radio.

“Okay………..,” he said, not really sure how to proceed so he went with a safe question, or at least what he hoped was a safe question. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“No,” she simply said with a shrug.

“No?”

“No, I’m good,” she said, shooting him a sweet smile.

“Then what was all that back at the jail?” he asked, wondering if her hormones were starting to make him go crazy.

“I had a craving for pie,” she said with another shrug as she settled back in her seat.

He pulled to a stop at the light and for a moment he could only stare at her in wonder. “You did all that for pie?”

“And cocoa,” she clarified with a nod.

He laughed, he couldn’t help it.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, reaching over to hold his hand.

“You are a dangerous woman, Mrs. O’Neil.”

“And don’t you forget it, Mr. O’Neil," she said teasingly.

“Or what?” he asked, raising their entwined hands so that he could press a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Or I’ll go for my pliers,” she promised, making him smile, because he knew damn well that she would. She didn’t take any of his shit, drove him out of his mind and he loved every single minute of it.