Work Text:
It’s quiet and he counts her fingers while she sleeps to make sure that they’re all there.
It’s quiet and she watches him sit by the pond and feed the turtleducks under the early morning sun.
It’s quiet and she traces shapes on his bare chest with her fingertips as they lay together legs tangled.
It’s quiet and he tries to braid her hair, tugging at thick strands and watching the curls bounce back into place.
It’s quiet and they sit, sometimes side by side, sometimes back to back, and not say a word, their thoughts saying more than enough.