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It's always in the eyes.
Agnatha feels lucky. More often than not, she and Hobie hang out whenever they possibly can. They both have this thing of quality time and doing their best to find little time slots to see each other; after patrols in their individual universes, some sort of work at HQ, after a riot, or after a rush at the cafe. They find solace in each other's company.
But lately… Agnatha has felt so much more fluttery. Her stomach flips and heart reaches her throat whenever she sees Hobie in the distance, and her first response is an enthusiastic “Hi, Hobie!” While rushing over. It only worsens when he's already expecting a hug and returns it with so much love and warmth, and with no sign of hesitance. It's a motivating factor that only makes Agnatha realize that he, too, is just as happy to see her. Their smiles are genuine, and Agnatha's happy little wriggles with a big smile on her face is extremely contagious. It makes Hobie absolutely sick.
And so does that big fluffy feline Agnatha calls her baby, which is now resting in a curled up ball next to him. A Maine Coon, calico and larger than the average cat. Bembe's tail flicks as she huffs in her sleep. Hobie jokingly thinks she's dreaming about those salmon treats Agnatha gives her in between meals. The couch, a wine red with cushions anyone can fall asleep on with their softness. It's no wonder Bembe is asleep. Hobie is on the verge of a nap too, after the day he's had, and most of his clothing resting on a chair at the kitchen island in Agnatha's apartment; he's clad in his purposefully cut up T-shirt and patch covered jeans that have signs of wearing. Nothing he can't fix with another patch sewn with dental floss. Agnatha walks around the couch, two small cups with spoons tucked into the desert served. She sets them down on the low coffee table in front of the couch.
“I know you like it warm, but… I didn't want it to spoil.” Agnatha settles on the couch with a sigh. She scoots closer to Hobie's other side to give Bembe some space for her cat nap. She picks up one of the mugs of rice pudding to hand to Hobie, in which he takes it. Their fingers brush up against each other, and that just makes both their stomachs flip in sync. Not that either knew. Hobie catches a successful glance at her face as she holds her own, noting the dark brown eyeliner and mascara she wears every day.
She never mixes the cinnamon with the rest of the pudding. She goes for the edge of the mug first, and savors that first bite of sweet, creamy goodness. Hobie tries to eat his own, and scoots back into the cushions for comfort and to slouch even further into the soft material. The box TV plays an evening drama, one Agnatha occasionally pays attention to when she's alone in the apartment she shares with her roommate, who's off at their night shift. Hobie can't eat. As much as he loves the dessert, his appetite is messing up. All because of the absolute darling he calls his companion. His mate, his shoulder to lean on. Is she oblivious to his glances and lingering looks?
Hobie's question is answered when Agnatha glances over and smiles at him. Really smiles.
She knows. She had told him before. Confessed. And the smile is shy.
She scoots closer, enough to rest some of her body weight onto his, and her head rests on his shoulder. Without really thinking much of it, Hobie sets down his mug on the table to drape an arm over her shoulders. Agnatha's head is closer to his chest, and on instinct presses closer.
Citrus and vanilla is present on Hobie's nose. Of course, they have embraced before. Tight hugs that meant the world to both him and Aggie but he'll never get sick of that smell. It's like he's either surrounded by oranges and limes or walked into a bakery of fruity pastries. Matches her well, he thinks.
As Agnatha eats her arroz con leche, he stares at the screen. He wants to watch her enjoy her sweet treat really bad, when doesn't he? But he doesn't want to ruin the atmosphere of comfort. Bembe wriggles in her sleep, and now she's stretched out like a rubber band with her front paws upwards. Hobie moves his arm down to rub Agnatha's arm and shoulder. His head turns so that his nose and lips are right on the top of her head, but he keeps his face still. He inhales the scent of her black curls, and to his expectations, a scent of citrus.
“Mm, Aggie,” Hobie mumbles while biting back a smile, “you smell like… like an orange.”
Agnatha found that funny. “And you smell minty.”
“Really?”
“Sometimes. Right now, you do. Like newspapers… and mint.”
Hobie gives her a look, and tilts his head down to raise an eyebrow. “I usually get leather and cigarettes—”
Agnatha wraps her arms around him and sighs. She shakes her head but keeps quiet to let the TV give background noise. Hobie watched her again, and he's finding it difficult to keep his questions to himself. So with a quiet deep breath, he rubs her arm.
“Y'know, babes, after you told me you were into me,” Hobie pauses to lift his head up. He licks his lips to settle the nerves. Gosh, he feels like such a dork, saying this kind of thing to the girl he likes so much despite telling himself to be straightforward to lessen her worries and overthinking tendencies. He straightens up slightly, “I haven't been able to stop thinking ‘bout, uh…”
The pause makes Agnatha lift her head up to look at Hobie's face. She can tell he's a little nervous. “About what?”
He doesn't want to say it out loud. And in an attempt to make it obvious, Hobie moves his arm so his hand is placed on the side of her neck, sliding up to hold Agnatha's cheek. Her skin is soft, and warm. He thinks it's only getting warmer. And the way she's leaning into his hand like that?
It's hard to hold back. He looks at the studs of her labret on her lips, trying to stay subtle. But there's no reason to when he has a point to get across. Hobie's eyes linger on the color of her lip gloss, and how natural it looks against her skin. A subtle, soft pink that gives a pretty shine to her lips with that colored tint. Agnatha's eyes slightly widen when she realizes what he means. It's all in the eyes. And she's rushing to put her mug of pudding down and turn to face Hobie completely.
“Wait, hold on,” she mumbles, fixing her posture and adjusting her hair. It's making Hobie giggle. “Aggie—”
“Gimme a secooond!”
Before she even thinks of clipping her hair up by rushing to her room for a hairclaw, Hobie moves his hands to hold her face, and they're making eye contact now. “Agnatha.”
“Yes?” Her voice is smaller, quieter. It's much softer now that Hobie is looking right at her. He gulps, and lets out a sigh.
“No need to fix yourself,” He reassures with a smile that's difficult to keep to himself. “It's just us here. I wanna see you, yeah?”
Agnatha blinks, and she nods. Her hands reach to gently caress Hobie's forearms, squeezing them gently before she leans in a little closer, giving a green light. Hobie takes a deep breath, as if telling himself that a first kiss with Agnatha would be okay if not amazing. He builds the courage to finally lean in, and their lips finally join in a kiss. Soft and slow, like they have all the time in the world.
They both share that warmth in their chests and stomachs, and both reassure the other with gentle touches. The television is drowned out, focusing only on each other. The few seconds of a first kiss felt like an eternity that Hobie didn't want interrupted. But their bodies eventually do want to intake oxygen again, and Agnatha is the first to pull back.
When she does, she starts to smile, to grin. She lets out a small squeak of excitement and ends up covering her face with her hands. Hobie at first grows worried and furrows his eyebrows, until Agnatha peeks from between her fingers and giggles.
And she calls him the dork. She must not realize what she's doing right now.
“Don't start hiding!” Hobie reaches to hold her wrists while only squeezing to pry them off, not to force movement. He knows Agnatha will comply, and of course she does.
She blinks up, then averts her eyes. “Sorry! Sorry… you're just so handsome up close. I got shy.” Her cheeks flush.
Goodness gracious.
Hobie rolls his eyes in frustration with himself, and he squishes her cheeks to then start pressing loving yet chaste smooches all over Agnatha's cheeks, forehead and lips. They're short, sweet, and ticklish. They're making Agnatha giggle out loud and snort like an idiot. “Hobie?!—”
“Shh. Payback for hiding. How dare you?”
He's going right back to smooching, and Agnatha is flailing to try and not let out an obnoxious laugh when he starts to poke at her stomach and sides to encourage it. The start of another round of roughhousing like a bunch of kids.
Regardless, it's purely out of affection, and to mess with Agnatha for the fun of it. Her reactions are funny to Hobie, it's almost routine.
Does Agnatha complain? Never. She's grown to love it. To love Hobie's little quirks and ways to show his love; bringing her little trinkets, making her jewelry, sewing up her favorite sweater that had torn at the seam. She wishes she could give him the world. Or maybe she doesn't have to.
Just her loving him is enough.