Archive of Our Own ^beta

Owen looks up when he hears the amused voice from the doorway. His face softens, and everything inside of him brightens, comes to life, sets alight, when he sees Hannah standing there. She leans against the doorframe with her skirt flowing around her ankles, and her smile melts him. She's beautiful. She awes him, every time he sees her. It doesn't matter how many days go by. It still feels like that first day.

"Hannah." He greets happily, "Come to admire my work?"

"Admire?" Hannah's smile widens, crinkles around her eyes. He wants her to laugh (he's always loved her laugh). "I can think of other words."

"You wound me." 

"You're a big boy, you'll manage." She says, and walks towards him. "What are you doing here so early?"

"You aren't glad to see me?" He says, and she raises an eyebrow that says you know better than that. They so often speak like this, without words, but Owen wishes he could say it, just once. I love you. How long can you live in the unspoken, before it stops hurting?

"Silly man." She says. 

"That's me." He says. She steps around the table and peers into the bowl, where he's stirring butter and sugar. When she's close Owen catches the scent of her perfume, and the smell of home and wine, and wants to lean towards her. He swallows, instead. "Baking a cake, for the lad's birthday."

"Oh, yes, of course." Hannah looks up at him, "Gosh, I feel so old. I remember when he was only tiny..."

"Old, but beautiful. You don't look a day over twenty one." Owen chuckles, and she hits his shoulder, ducks her head. 

He wishes she knew how much he really meant it. The feelings are always on the tip of his tongue, and every moment between them is torture the more that they pretend. They dance around each other with laughs, teasing and smiling, but there's something melancholy underneath. Owen wishes they'd met in another life. 

"You're not so bad yourself." Hannah's hand darts to her neck. "Do you need help?"

Sometimes he finds a shyness in her that he loves, a sweetness that's so distant from her usual presentation. Hannah is so strong, and so patient, but there's always been something coy about her. He loves her smile, her shy eyes, the way she hides her face sometimes. 

"No, it's okay, love." Owen smiles and catches her eye again. "Just sit down, relax, and enjoy the show."

"Oh, I insist." Hannah smiles back. His heart tugs, is pulled towards her as if on a string, and his eyes flicker to her mouth quickly before darting away. "It's Miles' birthday, after all."

"You want to bake with me?" Owen laughs.

"Sure I do." She rolls up her sleeves, "Shall I get the eggs?"

"You're full of surprises."

"All this time, and we've never cooked together." Hannah pats his arm, "I'm not quite a sous chef, but I'm sure I'll do."

"Go fetch the eggs then." Owen says fondly.

He watches her as she leaves, and falls in love all over again. He pushes up his glasses and clears his throat, turns back to the bowl in his arms, but his heart still follows her around the kitchen as she takes the whisk from a drawer. She knows where everything in the kitchen is, just as she knows every inch of the manor by heart. This is her home, Owen thinks, and she's mine.

Hannah comes to stand beside him at the counter and cracks an egg against the bowl. There's no need for her to be so close - she could've done this at the table. Yet their bare arms brush, rolled up shirt sleeves touching, and Owen swallows and can't bring himself to point it out. He doesn't usually get Hannah so close, this close, close enough to see how her eyelashes touch her skin when she blinks, how the world rests in her eyes.

She's warm and he's caught in the smell of her.

"Are you slacking?" Hannah asks, teasing, "Shame on you, Owen."

"N-No, I'm-" Owen grins, "Oh, dear, you caught me. Don't tell Henry."

"He'll have you out of here on your arse."

Owen laughs, and he can feel Hannah looking at him. He savours this moment, of happiness and warmth. He stirs butter and sugar until it softens and becomes fluffy.

"Here we are." She says, leaning over to pour the eggs in the bowl. A little splashes on his hands and he laughs, and shoves her away from him.

"You did that on purpose."

"I did not." Hannah sniffs. "I'll get the flour."

"Where did you learn to bake?"

"At home." She smiles, her shirt brushing against him as she passes him. "I was never very good at it, though."

"Your egg cracking skills leave much to be desired. There's an art to it you haven't mastered yet." Owen agrees, and she scowls at him from the cupboard.

Again she measures flour beside him, right by his side, and Owen sighs and wants to rest his head against hers. Wants every day to be like this. He focuses on the egg, mixing with butter and sugar, until Hannah leans over him again to pour the flour.

"Vanilla extract." Owen murmurs, his heart racing as he looks at the back of her neck. How bold it would be to duck his head and press his lips to the dark skin, but how lovely. Life changing, in fact. "And milk."

"I know." Hannah says, pulls away, and Owen's hand twitches. He stares down into the bowl, still. "You're slacking again. What's wrong with you today?"

You're distracting, Owen thinks.

"Are you doubting my skills?" Owen gasps.

"Never." Hannah smiles, pressing a hand to his shoulder. He leans into her touch, but she's already disappeared. As she drifts away to the cupboard, Owen savours the warmth that lingers on his shoulder. "Where's the vanilla extract? I think Flora has been moving things around again..."

He steps forward to show her but she stands, and now they're facing each other. Too close, Owen thinks, his heart rising into his throat. Low sunlight falls on her features and makes her seem ethereal. Her smiles fades as she looks into his face. I love you, Owen thinks, and he imagines reaching out and cupping her soft cheek with his hand. Imagines her leaning into his palm, her eyes fluttering shut. 

"Hannah, dear," Owen murmurs, then clears his throat. He drags his eyes away from the spot by her chin that's stained with flour. "Did you find it?"

"Yes, I- I got it." Hannah says, and drops a few teaspoons into the mixture, then adds milk.

All that's left is to mix it. Owen stirs while Hannah leans on the counter and watches him, her eyes flickering over his arms, his face. It makes him feel warm, the way Hannah gazes at him. It feels like they're the only two people in the world. Suspended in this kitchen, with all of its history. Just a few feet away from each other, but so far apart. 

"Done!" Owen grins, looking down into the mixture. "We make a great team."

"Can I try it?" Hannah asks, and Owen nods happily.

She takes a wooden spoon and tries some of the mixture, her eyes fluttering shut the way he always imagines, her mouth wrapped around the spoon. She hums, and he swallows, overcome with longing. When she opens her eyes again, their bright.

"Delicious, as I expected." Hannah says. "But only because I helped."

"Of course."

"Here." She puts the spoon back into the bowl and holds it out to him. "Try it."

But as he leans forward to wrap his lips around the spoon, Hannah moves her hand and spreads the mixture all over his face. She laughs, and laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound in the world. He's so in love with her he might die, might confess it outloud right now, with cake mixture on his nose, the light from the oven illuminating his features.

"That was revenge." She says, through her giggles.

"Hannah Grose." Owen says darkly, darting towards her to try and grab the spoon. She holds it out of reach, eyes shining with laughter. "You're going to regret the day you were born."

"Step away." She warns, laughing as she holds the spoon above her head. 

"This," Owen says, "Is a cake-astrophe."

The pun seems to catch her off guard, enough so that Owen can grab the spoon from her and press her against the counter. She's warm underneath him, surprised and nervous, her eyes widening as he looks down into her face. The silence stills, become tense and hot and beautiful. As the smell of cake fills the room Owen falls apart.

"That was terrible." Hannah says, but her throat trembles softly, and her eyes turn away from him. Up close, with his hands resting behind her on the counter, he can see all of her. Owen wants to pull her to him and never let her go again.

"You love it." Owen says, and his voice is gentler than he means it to be. It says too much. His gaze flickers downward to her mouth and she sighs, almost inaudibly, before slipping out from under him. He can hear his heartbeat as she quickly darts to the table and sits down at a chair, her hand fluttering to touch her neck, by her ear.

"I'll put the cake in the oven then." Owen mumbles, his cheeks turning pink.

Once he's put the cake in the oven, he's surprised to feel hands on his shoulders.

"Your apron." Hannah says softly. Her hands brush down his back and untie the apron, pulling it apart gently just as she does to him. He can't breathe, his back to her, her hands almost brushing his waist. The apron is pulled away from him but Hannah lingers close, her hands landing on the small of his back. "There we are."

"Thank you, love." Owen says, breathless. He doesn't dare move, in case she runs away again. Eventually, though, her hands slip away and she lays the apron across her chair before sitting back down. Back to his apron, the apron she had just so sweetly untied for him. 

Oh dear, he thinks. Every time he thinks he can't fall in love with Hannah even more, he does. God, he does.

He steps towards her, and she looks up at him.

"What is it?" She asks.

He steps closer. Leans over her and lifts her chin with his hand before rubbing away the flour there with his thumb.

"It's been bothering me." Owen murmurs. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her, but would it ruin their friendship, would it spoil this easiness, this unspoken love, between them? Hannah is strong and she's kind and she would never hurt him, but fear still climbs onto his shoulders as he looks at her. "...You've been bothering me."

"I have?" Hannah frowns.

"It's just that you're so-" His thumb brushes over her chin again, and his heart sinks. He loves her, more and more and more as the seconds past, as the ghosts lose their faces. "And I feel-"

I love you.

Hannah's eyes flicker over his face. She's trembling as his thumb touches her bottom lip. 

"Hannah, love, I-" Owen swallows it, love as huge as this old manor, and it almost works. But then her eyes flutter shut when he parts her lip with his thumb, and it breaks him. He feels the trust she has in him, the way her lip feels warm and wet under his finger, the loveliness of her. It's too much. "Fuck it."

He leans down and captures her mouth with his own. For a moment she's still and surprised underneath him, but then her lips part and Owen's world shatters. She makes a noise in the back of her throat, reaches for him, and wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer as if she can't contain herself. I love you. He whispers it in his mind as he kisses her, his glasses bumping against her face. I love you. She stands to be closer to him, and he wraps his arms around her waist, and everything stills to nothing but I love you and I waited so long and please, please don't leave me.

After a while, Owen can't help but smile against her mouth, and pulls away reluctantly. He sits in Hannah's chair and pulls her into his lap, and she laughs and hides her face in his shoulder. She's warm and heavy and everything, she's everything to him. 

"I love your laugh." He says. He kisses the side of her head, and marvels at the way she fits to him perfectly. "It's the most beautiful sound in the world."

"Owen, don't...." She says, embarrassed.

Owen pulls her face away from where she's hiding it and kisses her again, just because he can.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do that."

"I think I do." Hannah murmurs, nuzzles her nose with his own as the cake rises. "But I don't think this is very professional."

"Definitely not." A voice drawls from the doorway. Jamie. Hannah splutters and jumps off Owen's lap while Owen laughs. "Look at you two. What a scandal. Right here in the kitchen, where the kids could see? I expected better from you, Hannah."

"We were just baking." Owen says, while Hannah flushes and turns away from them.

"Yeah, right. And me and Poppins were just gardening." Jamie winks, and her eyes flicker to the oven, where the cake is rising. She smiles, and Owen knows he'll have to hide it from her later. "I'll leave you kids to it."

The silence after Jamie leaves the room is embarrassed. The two of them avoid each other's eyes until they burst into laughter, and Hannah's eyes crinkle and her mouth is wide open and there's nothing about her Owen doesn't love. Nothing about her he doesn't want to keep, forever. If he had only one memory he could return to, this would be it.

When their laughter dies, Owen can't stop gazing at her.

"What?" Hannah asks. Her hand flutters to her neck and she smiles shyly under his stare.

"Nothing, I just-" Owen pauses, "I just keep getting this feeling like you're going to fade away any minute now, and then where would I be?"

"Oh, you silly man." She says, and steps towards him. Runs her hands soothingly through his hair, and kisses the top of his head. "Don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere."

(But, as we all must do, Hannah leaves. Not on purpose, but she does. And Owen must keep the words I love you on the tip of his tongue for the rest of his life, until they can find each other again.)