Work Text:
Mr. Jefferson's always a bit prickly to most people who found his smug disposition off putting, but there was something about him that you found charming, and he knew that much because of the way you look at him. It's cold out, and the two of you take a brisk walk through a forest path. The autumn air is crisp, clean smelling and the smell of distant smoke lingers in the air. You figure everyone is burning yard waste and leaf piles as fall overtakes summer and winter will start to creep in.
"That smell reminds me of growing up here every time, it really makes me feel at home." He says and you can see a glimmer in his mysterious brown eyes.
You find the image cute, as you think about Mark Jefferson as an innocent little kid playing in the yard on a day that was much like the one you two were sharing together.
The man notices you take your hands and hold them in your sleeves. Your hands are cold and the tips feel a little bit numb because you never did like the cold, and you were always a little bit susceptible to it.
Mark takes your hand, the one closest to him and intertwines his artist fingers with yours. The way he holds it catches you off guard, because he brings it to his lips and softly presses them to your skin.
He covers your hand with the other one of his and before you know it, Jefferson has you subdued in such a way that makes your cheeks turn red and he had to do little else than be considerate regarding your comfort and it is as though you're starved for his attention for the rest of the walk.
You're really enjoying the way he holds onto your hand as he continues to talk about growing up locally, and his journey to the top. He likes the way your interest in him makes you hold onto every word of his and doesn't mind that you are quiet.