Work Text:
The lock slipped, the door opened, and Frederick eagerly looked up from the book he had been adding annotations to. He’d been waiting; for the signal of your arrival. You slid in easily, offered a meek smirk upon noticing him on the sofa- where he almost always was after your long evenings at the firm.
An apology, one he’s heard so very often before: “Sorry I’m late, darling.” While surreptitiously slipping out of your heels, you used the nearby table to balance yourself, nearly tumbled over your own toes in your hurry to go flat-footed.
All he could do was smile, as he watched you loose those few extra inches of height you took with you to the office. “It’s never a problem,” he offered, sincerely, but of course he was sincere. No matter how many nights he had to wait for you to make it home- he’d assure you he didn’t mind.
No, not one bit. Having you home was worth every moment apart.
“How was work?” Happily, he trailed behind you, watched with wide-eyes while you reached behind your head to undo the classy bun you pin up every morning. As you twist at pins and untied bands, Frederick bit his lip, waiting with baited breath for what he knew was coming…
“Oh,” your hair fell, curls from the spins crafted that morning cascading to your shoulders. He sighed in admiration, but you were far too busy answering his question to hear it- “it was alright, I s'pose.” After the short jaunt down the hallway, your lips plumped to a thoughtful pout as you paused near the little glass tray you kept your jewelry in, Frederick wasted no time moving so he stood beside you; it was easier to appreciate your sweet profile this way. “Busy, but alright.”
He nodded along, “Good, darling, I’m glad-” his stare followed your fingertips, admiring how they deftly went to work plucking those pearl earrings he had gotten you from your lobes. They clinked against the glass, made him jump in anticipation, ready for the next step…
“Honey, could you get this?” You twist on the balls of your feet, lifted those curls over your shoulder with one hand. Without missing a beat, Frederick helped himself, unclasped the delicate decoration from the hook, leaned in to place his lips against the spot of skin that had been under the gold chain. Though you expected the kiss, be it how he smirked against your neck or how his gentle breathing barely slid down your spine- you couldn’t help from smiling. Without your having to ask, he modestly took hold of the zipper at the top of your dress so he could assist, the sound of it coming undone was deafening amidst the silence. “Thank you, Freddy.”
No kiss, not yet, he didn’t expect one; but you did reach up and graciously lay your palm to his cheek. A moment of adulation, to appreciate your sweet man, tap lightly at his stubble to thank him for his help. Perhaps you didn’t want to paint him with your crimson lip stain, but he still turned his face to press a peck of his own to your palm.
“Of course.” Of course, he’d do anything you’d say.
As always, you sauntered off, though he thought the breath caught in his throat when he watched you let out a little yawn. Were you tired, was the trip home exhausting? Through the little corridor to the bathroom, you disappeared and the sound of the faucet was barely heard past the door.
Frederick could go get his book, finish noting portions of his draft. Or, he could get a drink, pour himself a stiff scotch since the hours of the evening had caught up with him. He could check his phone, his email, watch the news…
But, he wouldn’t. Oh no. Of course not.
Frederick knew what was coming, what always did.
And he had been longing for it all day.
The familiar dance went on; the steps had been choreographed from the last few months of practice, ever since you had moved in with him. Your return home was ceremonious, each evening, and while Frederick couldn’t quite put his finger on when it all started- now, it was a necessity. To watch you lose your shoes, discard the jewels, unzip your dress, and now to wait- against the wall, a bit conspicuously but he didn’t mind.
Nah, it was worth it. Easily worth it; the twist of the washroom’s door knob had a hypnotically Pavlovian effect on him- Frederick straightened his spine so he could watch as you come from around the corner.
This was his favorite; not because of the previously hidden lingerie, not because of all the skin available for viewing that hadn’t been before. Definitely not- it was your slightly pinked cheeks, from a wash rag cleaning off all the makeup you put on in the morning. Your peach pout, rid of lipstick and plumped from you wiping the stain away. Your eyes, still bold and even brighter without the charcoal-colored pencil lines and mascara around them. Your dress was gone, you left it behind in the bathroom and traded the cotton for the smooth satin of your robe…
You reminded him of innocence; of loveliness; of the Goddesses lounged atop giant clam shells in the paintings hung about the art gallery he had proposed to you in.
Honestly, if he wasn’t there against that wall or on the edge of the bed, diligently waiting and catching your stare with his, it would be an oddity. Knowingly, you sauntered towards him, leaned against his chest. Frederick welcomed you, curled arms over your shoulders so he could hug you close, lay kisses along your hairline- and even more on your face.
All day, everyone else got you. You put on your face in the morning, chose fancy clothes to humbly fit in among your co-workers in their suits and blazers. You’d pin up your hair, though Frederick would never know why, and hide your lengthy tresses up together in that spun-up bun. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets that clink-clanked against each other, and your rings- your employers had ties and pocket squares, but your doting man made sure you could accessorize in gold and diamonds or pearls.
All day, five days a week, they saw you in ways Frederick only did if he came to visit you or take you out for lunch. Done up, lovely and prepared, saccharine and pristine while tapping away at your keyboard or carrying files from cabinets to offices. They heard your “Yes, Sir"s and your ”No, Ma'am“s and all of your ”How may I help you“s.
But now, after you were through being the hero of the office, long after you clocked out and disappeared from those fluorescent lights to meander into the street- they didn’t see you. Not now, hidden within your loving Frederick’s embrace, smelling of rose water and bare-faced, in all your golden goddess-esque glory…
Now, you were his. All his. In a state no one else got to experience- to enjoy; in your natural, simplistic, stunning beauty. Now, you were all his…
As was the phrase he was ready for, had missed all day;
"Frederick, Sweetheart,” you whispered gently, after coiling arms around his waist so you could rest against him, inhale to smell the waning scent of his cologne; “I love you so, I’ve missed you.”
Oh, and he smiled, nodded in agreeance and shifted just enough to curl fingertips under your chin. With his guidance, and knowing now you’d welcome it, you followed his prompting so your lips met- the kiss you’d missed since the last one that morning, the kiss Frederick had expertly meshed into the choreography of your ritualized and holy welcome home.
“And I missed you-” Spoken, against your kiss, so you felt his words as much as you heard them, “I love you too, Darling.”
Of course he did.