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It’s a simple misunderstanding that means they wind up here. She said Friday, he heard Thursday and then he’s at her door, wondering why she stood him up.
All in all, the resulting argument and stalemate is very them. As is the begrudging offer of lunch and the reluctant acceptance.
The whole kissing frantically and taking each other’s clothes off on the way to her bedroom thing, however, is new.
As always these days, Ellie is waiting for the pothole that sends the whole moment careening into ditch where it becomes a fireball, but it doesn’t seem to be heading that way yet. It’s still quiet and warm in her room as Hardy sleeps next to her.
It’s a risk to admit it - even to herself - but she’s fairly certain that she’s happy and that whatever just happened was fun.
She hides an involuntary giggle in the duvet as she shuffles closer to Hardy. It isn’t the first time she’s seen him sleeping, but it’s the first time she’s been allowed to get this close. There’s an eyelash on his cheek, right next to one of his freckles. She leaves it there, not wanting to disturb the evidence. When he wakes up they can discuss everything and work out where they stand and what they do next.
For now, it’s just her and his slow breathing.
It’s amazing, she thinks, how he hides from the limelight like it’ll burn him, yet he still ends up with the scars. She traces the silvery mark behind his ear, the bumpy tissue is one of the few reminders of what could have happened. There are others, of course. Some are newer, like the one on his chest, serving as an odd punctuation mark in the middle of his life. It could have easily been the full stop, but she hates thinking about that now.
Lower down, on his hip, is a scar that she had no idea about until today. She runs her finger over the bump, clearly already long healed by the time they met, and wonders what caused it. An aid, accident or attack.
Just like her, he’s covered in marks. After all, she met him in the middle of his story. She wants to know the tales behind all the scars, and help heal any more he incurs along the way.
She’s still touching his hip when she notices his eyes on her. His grin is so carefree, she barely recognises him.
“What?” his gravelly voice asks.
Ellie bites her lip. “Just… glad you’re here.”
It doesn’t cover everything she wants to say, all the words to explain what she’s feeling and what she’s scared of and excited about. Then again, she thinks as he rolls over to kiss her, maybe it does.