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She comes back from the crowd, a little sweaty, a little flushed but glowing with such happiness that the air gets stuck in his throat, his heart stuttering a few extra beats. She’s been his wife for years now but it always strikes Bigby just how ethereal Snow can look.
“Hey,” she says and kisses his cheek.
“Hey,” he says back and kisses her nose.
Snow’s eyes narrow as she glances at the bar counter. “Bigby…”
“I might have had a few shots,” he huffs. “You know me. It’s not like they go into my head that much.” He offers his hand and she takes it. Snow yelps when he pulls her into his lap, quite awkwardly balancing on the sturdy bar stool.
“You stink,” she whispers when he nuzzles her neck, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent deep.
“Hush,” says he and kisses her, wraps his arms around her and holds her like he never wants to hold anyone else.
