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It starts the second Street slips into bed, mind and muscles worn from the day. Like a moth to a flame, Chris rolls over and throws an arm over his side so there’s not even a breadth of space between them. She tucks her sleeping body against his, cheek burrowed between his shoulder blades, and he can’t help but smile softly. Exhaustion from the day sits on him as heavy as their comforter, but with her steady heartbeat behind him, he falls asleep easily.
She’s still asleep when he wakes—a consequence of finally settling into a less regimented schedule—but grumbles the moment her cells realize his warmth is fading.
“No,” she murmurs, hand tightening on whatever of him she can touch. He can only imagine how confused he looks as his groggy mind tries to piece out what’s going on in the dark, brows furrowed and a small frown when he turns over his shoulder to see her. Her face is screwed tight from discomfort, more disgruntled remarks falling from her lips only to be snuffled by the pillowcase.
“Chris? What’s wrong, babe?” He whispers. Her forehead isn’t hot or clammy, there’s nothing to signify a nightmare, but she only grips harder.
“Stay.” She whines, something sleepy and needy and utterly irrefusable. The sun isn’t even up, nor have his bones settled into themselves yet, so with nothing but a dimpled smirk he slides back under the covers.
The second she recognizes he’s there again, Chris traps him with a leg over both his hips, and her cheek on his bare chest, a content sigh escaping as he starts to card his fingers through her hair and whispers that he loves her. Her weight, the evenness of her breathing, the scent of her lavender shampoo—it’s all so comforting that he finds his eyes sliding shut once more.
Next time, he’s brought to life by her gentle scratches on his chest, swirling hearts and other indistinguishable patterns. Yawning, he gives her a small, dimply smile, and takes in how the sun streams over her features.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” she whispers back. There’s already a twinkle in her eye. He bites.
“Any big plans for today?”
“Nope,” she says. “Breakfast?”
“Shower? Then breakfast?”
“Sold.”
They roll out of bed, and she straightens the sheets while he turns the water on and grabs clean towels. There’s a tug in her chest every second she isn’t with him, body drawn like a magnet to be back in his space. He laughs when she gets to the bathroom and sets her arms around his neck, eyes silently demanding a kiss.
“Thanks,” she whispers as they part. He gives her a wink.
Steam is filling up the bathroom and obscuring the mirror as they abandon their pajamas in a small pile and step underneath the stream. Their shoulders roll and necks crack as they settle into their bodies for the day. Chris reaches for the shampoo, letting her fingers flutter across the fading purple on his side as she goes. His nerves light up, a shiver rolling through him that makes her smirk.
“Come here,” he murmurs, after her hair is clean and soapy suds are trailing down her tan skin. She steps into his waiting arms. The warm water is heaven on her muscles, and his hands lock low and loose around her back, helping her relax even more.
“I love you,” she whispers, meeting their lips. Street’s soft eyes manage to soften even more, opening up his soul for her to walk through. Burying her face in his shoulder, they stand intertwined until the water starts to run cool. Her lashes tickle his neck when she looks up at him.
“What’re you thinking about?” He asks.
“How to get you to make me banana pancakes.”
Street laughs and smiles, dimples deep, and kisses her forehead.
“I think just saying please will get you there.”
“Please?” She whines playfully, and adds wide puppy dog eyes for good measure.
“Coming right up, Babe.”
The sweet scent of brown sugar and caramelized bananas fills the air. Chris sits on the counter, as close as she can get to the stove and, more importantly, close enough to steal swipes from the bowl of whipped cream. Her legs dangle, feet swinging out every few minutes to tap Street’s thigh until he finds her in his periphery.
“Yes?” He sings, followed by a cocky grin. Glancing at the pancakes to make sure they’re not burning, he turns the stove down and his full attention to her. There’s whipped cream on the side of her lip that he scoops onto his thumb, but she catches his wrist before he can eat it, and pulls him close.
“Ah, that’s what you wanted,” he smiles and buries his face in her hair as she wraps her arms around him, fisting his shirt in her palms. “I should’ve known.”
Chris doesn’t even pretend to argue, just nuzzles closer and breathes him in deep. He smells like sugar and aftershave; she takes another breath. A moment later, he pulls back, grinning at her resistance.
“It’s me or burnt pancakes.” He teases. Grumbling, Chris lets go but watches as he flips the last of the pancakes onto a plate. Deciding to forego any illusion of separation, he adds butter and syrup, and a healthy dollop of whipped cream, and grabs two forks.
“Are we going to pretend to be adults and eat at the table or enjoy this delicious counter side?”
“Here,” Chris says definitively. She pushes all the dishes further enough down the counter that he can pop up next to her, the plate resting between them. Her fork goes through the pancakes like clouds, and she savors her first bite, head rolling back in pleasure.
“Good?” He asks, eyes sparkling as he goes in for a bite of his own.
“Some of your best.” Chris agrees. “I think the counter really puts it over the top.”
“Definitely. Or it’s the extra sugar.”
She looks at him like she can’t believe what she’s hearing, and it’s his turn to shrug, swallowing another bite.
“Seemed like the kind of day that called for it.”
“Well, thank you.” She says softly. Closing the small expanse, she meets their sticky-sweet lips. “You can go relax; I’ll clean this up.”
“I’ll help,” Street hops down and offers her a hand. “Many hands make light work, or so the foster homes tried to tell me.”
“I’m pretty sure Sarzo was the first to ever utter those words.” Chris mumbles, both of them laughing. “You want washing or drying?”
The morning glides into afternoon, spent reading and watching movies, tangled together on the couch.
Every time Street shifts, Chris goes with him. Her feet in his lap turn into her legs, and eventually she winds up with her ear and cheek against his chest. When he goes to get more water, she grabs his hand and squeezes before letting him leave, and clambers back around him like it’s the only place she knows where to be once he returns, her hold tightening.
“Do you want lunch?”
“No,” she murmurs. Leaning up to press a quick peck to his jawline, she sighs. “Just this.”
After pressing a longer kiss to her head, he runs his fingers through her hair until she falls asleep. He turns the TV down and lets the swirling images of a grainy movie lull him, too.
Golden hour hangs low in the sky by the time he wakes up, Chris still fast asleep on his chest. But he can’t deny the grumbling in his stomach. Carefully, he shifts her onto the couch and tucks a blanket around her shoulders, making sure not to leave without kissing her forehead.
Chris comes to as the lack of a steady heartbeat starts to register in her bones. Fingers finding only the sofa beneath her, she shoots up, the blanket pooling around her feet and her heart racing.
The fridge closing pulls her attention, her panic subsiding, and she rubs the remaining sleep from her eyes. Her feet are just hitting the floor when Street walks back in, mug of tea in hand.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he jokes, but grimaces when it falls flat. He sits where he was and gives her the space to do with it what she wants. Try as she might to keep the distance between them, it’s not long before she’s reaching for his free hand and intertwining their fingers. As the last of the sun lets go of its hold on the day, she scoots closer.
Her eyes are a fire burning into him. Small, warm, but a fire nonetheless. Exhaling slow, he lets go to drape his arm around her shoulder, and she reaches across his lap to grab his other hand. He smiles small, the words floating between them.
“You’re being very needy today with your touches. Everything okay?”
“Oh,” Chris freezes, her fingers slowly uncurling around his, trying to hang onto the heat of his palm for as long as she can. “Sorry.”
“Hey, no,” he stops her, and squeezes her hand back for good measure after kissing her. “I didn’t say it was a problem. But all touch, no talk usually means something’s up. If you wanna talk, I’m here.”
Averting her gaze, Chris lets out a heavy breath and frantically figures out where to put her words. In the end, she just says it straight, if quiet.
“I had another nightmare last night.”
“About last week?” He holds her even closer, lips brushing the top of her head to let her know he’s really there. She catches the tear rolling down her cheek with the side of her hand and nods.
“They didn’t save you in time.”
Another tear escapes. Unable to stand it, Street cradles her jaw and gently turns her face to his, kissing her as sweetly as he can. He sets his forehead against hers when they part, foregoing the usual question and answer to cut straight to what she needs to hear.
“I’m so sorry. But they did; I’m right here for you. And I’m not going anywhere unless you make me. Scout’s honor.”
The corners of her lips quirk up, eyes starting to roll as a defense mechanism to how much he means to her, and the display makes him smile, too.
“Okay,” she says, body and mind finally settling after so many hours running at top speed. She kisses him again for good measure. “Thank you.”
Pulling back, he winks at her and kisses the back of her palm. It’s easy enough to maneuver back to how they were, his back to the arm of the couch and chest-to-chest. They lazily flip through the guide until an old cooking show rerun comes up. He presses select and sets the remote down to look at her instead.
She starts to drift off again some time later, fingers gripping his shirt tightly. With one hand square on her back, he covers her hand with the other and massages until her grip loosens.
“I’m right here.” He promises. “Right here.”
Before the last wisps of sleep can take her, she nods small against his chest and nuzzles closer, grinning.
“I know.”