Work Text:
When I see your eyes arrive
They explode like two bugs on glass
.
She's a goddess on a highway, a goddess in a car
A Goddess going faster than she's ever gone before
-Mercury Rev
Goddess on a Hiway
She was looking around, adorably confused when he finally spotted her, and he had to stop just to look. Pen took his breath away, standing there. It was like the crowd parted and all he saw was her: perfect copper curls loose along her shoulders, her small, voluptuous frame enhanced by her 50’s skirt flaring out around her, her hands wringing around so she could fiddle with her fingers absentmindedly in that cutely predictable tick of hers.
Oh.
Oh. Pen.
Pen.
Every day. Every. Damn. Day. Every damned day he missed her, imagined what she’d look like in front of him and not just through the crackling hum of a receiver, biting static and too much time fizzling her before him. Not anymore.
He was frozen at the image of her, the world around him blurring as though he were in a movie. The dim, monotonous light of the airport colored around her, pinked from the hue of her hair. She was shimmering, looking around and- oh, he had to bite his cheek- she went up on tiptoes with a bounce to look for him, pouting and chewing her lip. It was impossibly endearing, utterly adorable, he couldn’t help but chuckle, catching her attention.
When she finally turned to see him, as though slow motion, her eyes shone neon electric, speared directly through him as her entire face brightened with a gasp.
Without warning, hesitation, thought- she made her way toward him, faster, then, faster still, until she was, really and truly, running to him in the middle of the bloody airport. He hadn't even seen Pen run for the metro, let alone to him, before. It was mindbogglingly sweet, really. Mum would pinch his ear numb for his manners as the man in front of him cursed when he bumped into him, but he didn't care. Pen was there, right there, and he was running to her, too, pulled as surely as gravity tethered him to the earth. Everyone, everything else? -Inconsequential.
“Colin!” she yelled out, all excitement and energy, all lilting mezzo, all lifted soprano at the end of his name, just the way he liked. His bags were foolish to hold onto when he realized that they were going to collide, two galaxies rushing toward one another in the infinite forever of space, and even a breath away was too far. The twinkle of her was as though he were reaching for a constellation, all alight.
“Pen! Baby Girl!”
He threw his arms around her waist and lifted her in the air, forcing a squeak of delight from deep in her, like a bubble she couldn’t bite down on fast enough, as her knees curled up.
The laughter was all but fizzing around them in the magic of the moment, of being back, amplifying when he spun her, his chin on her shoulder, their voices as close as they were on the phone all those nights. Penelope shrieked, her feet dislodging and swinging about in the force of the whirl.
"Col-ahahaha-Colin! Colin! Stop, I'm heavy!"
"Oh, fuck off," he replied, giggling, if anything lifting her even higher. He would never let her believe it. Never had. Had no one picked her up while he was gone? Were six months really enough to make her think that of herself, again? Even if he was a middle-aged man lifting weights at some backwater gym, he would make sure she'd always know how light she was to him. How she brought light within him. How she was perfect, always had been, and anyone who made her feel otherwise could catch his hands, condolences of his old Muay Thai days. “You're like a doll, like a dream- fuck, I missed you. Missed holding you- missed picking you up,” he breathed more than said, wrapped up in her with her wrapped around him, as was only natural. Nowhere would ever feel as safe and familiar as being beside Penelope. She seemed to ease at it, clumsy as he felt he was being, relaxing, loosing a tiny 'Oh' before she settled into his grasp, trusting him. If he looked at her eyes, crystalline cerulean, he'd fall to bits. “God, I’m finally Home.”
There, in the middle of the airport, at a reasonable hour only because Penelope told him that, as much as he wanted to, catching the soonest red-eye would make his day considerably more miserable when he landed (she was right), it was only them, just him and Pen, the way it always should be.
Her sigh was soft against him, her lips beside his ear and the warmth of her breath traveling upon his neck, rendering him to gooseflesh. It brought everywhere they connected to the forefront, their bodies seaming together so flush, he doubted anything could separate them. His entire world, his whole existence- all Pen. It nearly knocked him wobbly on his feet- from the floral saccharine of her perfume, mouthwatering strawberry-rose with each deep inhale, to the way she was clutching him like she’d never let go.
Which suited him just fine, thank you very much.
“Oh, fine. I wouldn't be able to stop you, anyways, flatterer,” she said, voice all syrup, near dripping even as she interspersed her words with the occasional giggle. Then, her voice stilled, her heart heard in each syllable. “Welcome home, Colin. I'm. . .I'm so glad you're back."
It was like she’d kindled an ember in him, the way everything within him lit up in sparks and fireworks and hissing heat. Holding her- the longing in him was raw, messy, thumping hard against her body as though wanting to transfer his heart between them, through his sternum, through her own- until she cradled it between her ribs, syncopated rhythm to her own. After a moment, as his adrenaline was winding, he felt every single point where they were connected- their doubled heat blazing between them, sparking as they wound around each other.
“Couldn’t have come a moment sooner,” he sighed out, finally slowing their spin but still holding on to her. Something about being in her presence made all his eloquence fade. For as much as he felt he had the dialogue down when they were thousands of kilometers away on his cell, with her, his tongue withered to salt. ‘ Couldn’t have come a moment sooner’? What was he, 79 years old, exactly? Next he knew, he’d find himself in her flat drinking coffee on her balcony and looking out, wondering where he left his Manilla envelopes.
Not: It’s only home when I’m with you. Gentle and tender. Not: How do you always smell so good? I just wanna eat you up. All that longing stoppered up. Not even: Did you miss me? Wanna show me how much?
Wasn't he meant to be the charming one? No one would believe it with him all tongue tied like a schoolboy.
If she minded (of course she didn't, the only person who'd ever accepted him, him, for all he was, was Pen), she didn’t say anything, only hummed contently. Her hold around his neck readjusted, one hand tentatively playing with the curls at the back of his head, his favorite, even without him asking, her lips so close to his ear. With them stationary once more, he began to sway them side to side, her vintage shoes nowhere near the ground, making her titter as she held on in their intimate crush. He enjoyed her breathless calls of his name as he sunk his fingertips into her sides, stroked the fuzzy fabric of her cardigan and feeling at the perfection of her body beneath.
She was so lovely and plush in his hold. Everywhere he pressed into her, her body yielded as though meant to mold him in a cushioned cradle, so different from his own and, yet, welcoming him with an embrace that he’d been desperate for the last 6 months.
He’d never been a particularly touchy person, in truth. Not with many people, at least. Family was one thing, but he didn’t particularly like being around strangers, and friends and acquaintances were typically limited to handshakes, perhaps the occasional one-armed fly-by hug that ended in 2 seconds. He enjoyed his space and really rather disliked when others felt up on him, especially without permission. He'd had enough of long fingernails tapping at his chest or arms or, especially disrespectful, his lap at bars with batting lashes and no concept of the word 'No' to last him a lifetime.
But Pen? Loving and snuggling and holding Pen? Game changer. It was like something just clicked On in his brain and couldn’t switch off and he didn’t want to. He could have her in his arms forever. Even before she was his girlfriend (-girlfriend, girlfriend , Penelope Featherington, most beautiful woman this side the Atlantic, was his girlfriend. His kick-ass editor, sharp-tongued quipper, million-stories-in-her-brain girlfriend. It was too good, still), it was like he’d been unable to tear away from her.
“Oh my g- Col! I’m slipping,” she warned, and instead of setting her down, he wrapped his arm around her middle more firmly as his other hand came to the underside of her thigh, hitching her up rather high, so her legs were prime to slink around his waist, even as his cheek settled against her chest, sighing, so damn lovesick.
“Better?” he asked, and he felt her breath hiccupping, the subtle motion of her hips against him igniting a heat that flared near inferno in his guts. He closed his eyes and kissed the nearest spot to his lips- her neck, and she shivered against him, making a subtle-soft sound of wanting from the back of her throat. He could take her right in that damn airport, could rut into her like an animal. Seemed the same was true on her end, at least/ He grinned, smug. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I- Col-,” she breathed out, and he pulled away just so he could look at her. She made his heart stutter, the cute upturn of her nose, the full, soft round of her mouth. Her lashes fluttered. Fluttered. She was like a cartoon princess come to life. His gaze bounced from each of her freckles, across the bridge of her nose, to her pinked cheeks, taking her in.
He smiled. “You’re gorgeous . I missed you so much,” he said, his voice unlike he’d ever heard it before, and something broke in her eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they flashed. Yes. Finally, his brain was working again.
“I missed you, too, you sap,” she said, finally, breathless and sweet, and then she was hugging him so tight, he nearly choked (worth it, worth it worth it worth it) as he luxuriated in the squeeze. He was about to melt into her when he heard Benny’s voice and jolted. He hadn’t even realized his own brother was there with them. Hell, he hadn’t even realized that there were people who were giggling and looking over at them, a wide berth between them from when he’d spun Pen about.
“Wow, what kind of hello will I get, I wonder, considering I’m driving you two?”
Penelope laughed, shaking her head as she began to dislodge, but Colin’s hold was firm on the underside of her thigh, turning her slightly so she was settled more to his side, and he didn’t bend down so he could set her feet on the ground. Instead, he gave her one more, self-indulgent squeeze, shivering pleasantly when she squeaked once again, quiet and small: just for him.
“Hey, Benny! I missed you, man,” he said, wondering how he was going to grab his duffle and keep Pen against him, still, her legs now wrapped around his waist. The universe did him a solid- Ben snatched it just before he needed to, shooting him a look of gratitude.
“Missed you, too, Colin,” he replied, grinning. “Careful there, you’ve got precious cargo.”
“Precious is definitely the word,” Colin said, a silent conversation between the two of them taking place as Penelope tucked her head against his shoulder, somehow adjusting closer with a hum at the compliment. As she did, his brows raised at his brother- intending on questioning but certainly pleadingly would be the more appropriate word to describe it, and Ben mimed a whipping motion, but otherwise nodded supportively, getting the rest of the bags and leading them off to his car. When he was a few paces away, Colin spoke, right in her ear- “Alright, Beautiful, I’m going to carry you out of this airport. What do you say, baby? Swept off your feet, yet?”
He didn’t miss how she shivered against him, or how she made a soft sound of contentment when he held her the slightest bit closer, walking after his brother- holding her the whole way.
That was irrevocably a yes.