Work Text:
“Welcome back, Mr. Stoic.”
He blinks at the greeting, wondering if he trusts himself to make eye contact as they make their way from the building to the car, or if he should keep to the Safe Zone just over her left ear (if he risks glancing aside at her at all).
The next question comes as they approach the vehicle: “Have a good little holiday?”
She’s persistent today. Fooling himself, which he’ll do later when he doesn’t need to focus so keenly on their surroundings, he could cast her comments as conveyed affection – that she missed him. For now, he’ll focus on getting her to follow her schedule for the day to the best of his ability, his determination hitting a stumbling block when he catches her reflection in the tinted windows of the SUV. She’s studying his profile, nearly frowning. Without registering the urge so much as one can register the speed at which a hummingbird flaps its wings, he realizes he’s got to offer her an answer – “Pleasant few days. Yes.”
It’s just polite conversation. Easy exchanges between two individuals that spend quite a bit of time together. Cordial, but distanced, even if it flirts dangerously with a line that shouldn’t be crossed.
Oh how he wants to cross it.
How tempted had he been during that week long conference? Sol had been next to useless, banished to another suite for the severity of the cold that had him stuck in bed until the day of their return home. The usual distance maintained had slowly diminished through the week out of necessity. And then -
He’ll never be able to wear a bow-tie again without remembering the way she’d pressed into his space suddenly, tipping her head slightly to the side as she sucked at her bottom lip, just enough to catch it lightly between her teeth. How he’d frozen under her hands as she’d adjusted the piece of cloth at his neck before letting her fingertips drift down to tug gently at his collar, then the outer edges of his jacket.
She’d simultaneously arranged and undone him, all at once.