Work Text:
The drumming of the rain against her window keeps her company as she sits at her desk. Her pen tapping in the same rhythm as she watches droplets race each other to the bottom of the window frame. Her sketchbook sits open in front of her, traces of a building-in-progress staring back. The usual sun-soaked room is instead cast in the warm light of the floor lamp as the heavy clouds above block anything natural from seeping through. Truth is, this is one of her favorite kinds of days. Where the already darkened day moves to a darker night. It's just her and the storm and her pen and paper and—
The slam of the front door lets her know her favorite part of the day and night is home. A smile forms, hearing him curse as he struggles to take his shoes off and toss his bag somewhere just shy of the wall that she also knows he will trip on come morning. She's already laughing at the moment that will come to pass, perhaps she'll have mercy on his poor feet and nudge it over where it belongs. She goes back to her work, her back facing the door when it opens and he steps inside. There's an instant pull, a force begging her to turn around and look into the eyes of the man that both saved and kept her but she forces her eyes down, ignoring the pull of her lips into a smile has she hears him walking closer, so close that his body heat engulfs her back as his hands come up and gently remove her headphones and place them carefully on one of the shelves of her desk. The tension released from her body is immediate as he places his hands first on her shoulders, then trails down her arms as he brings his body over her, like he's shielding her from everything around them, like there's something to protect her from, to still protect her from. His face finds purchase in the curve of her neck where collarbone meets shoulder.
He hums, "You're up late." His breath tickles the skin beneath his lips and a shiver passes through her. She looks up at the clock on the wall, sees that it's almost eleven o'clock, which is very late by her standards. His hands travel back up her arms, to her shoulders, and start to dig into the back of her shoulders. Her head lolls back, meeting his chest and her eyes finally look into his.
"I was trying to finish this sketch for some developers coming next week, guess I lost track of time." This time, she's the one to run her hands from his fingertips to his elbows, leaning back into his warmth. He sighs something fond but also slightly exasperated. After detaching himself from her, he spins the chair around to face him and gently pulls her to her feet.
"Where are we going?" Her smile stretches as he walks backwards towards their bedroom door, her hands still held in his.
"You need tea and I need a shower and then we need to go to bed." He says it so simply, like he's adding 2 + 2 and continues on his path to their kitchen. Their kitchen, sometimes the knowledge of that still makes her giddy, like she isn't sure what she's done to deserve him, this moment, this life. If she thinks too long, she'll think of the day they met. One of the best and worst days of her life. She'll think of the car and the screaming coming from the driver's side seat, the roads slick with ice, then a light and man, him, pulling her from the wreckage, while his partner pulls the driver out, already gone. The thought is gone as quickly as it comes, not wanting to darken the moment she's living in now, with him.
He sits her at one of the bar stools that line the island in the kitchen and begins rummaging for their mugs and tea. She watches him glide through the kitchen like water, like it's second nature to be caring for her like this, making sure her body gets the things it needs to be at its best the next day. But she also knows he's still carrying the weight of his day, his navy blue polo pulls taut against his back as he pulls a pot out and fills it with water, she watches the way his muscles move, muscles earned through hard work and long shifts, and she sees the tension in them. She stands from her seat and moves to the pantry to grab the honey.
"What are you doing? I could've grabbed that." He calls her over his shoulder while messing with the burners on the stove.
"I know," she shrugs, "but so could I." She moves to place the honey next to their mugs and tea bags.
This time its her turn to wrap herself around him, to feel the tension leave his body as her front presses against his back. She brings her arms to his front and untucks his shirt before undoing the buttons. He allows her to pull the shirt down his arms and off his body to reveal his white undershirt before she throws it in the nearby washer, where the rest of this weeks uniforms lay, ready to be washed tomorrow.
"If you wanted to get me out of my clothes all you had to do was ask, sweetheart." The teasing in his voice leaves her stomach feeling warm as she buries her face in his back and lightly smacks his chest.
"Shuddup, I missed you today." After a beat too long one might think he didn't hear her but she knows by the absence of his voice that today was not only long but hard for him. After another beat he brings his hands to rest over hers.
They stay like that for several minutes waiting for the water to boil. The rain is still hitting the windows in their apartment. Light is cast from various lamps littering their living room. If she could pick one moment to stay in forever, it would be this one, or one like it. Where it seemed that nothing else existed but them in their little slice of heaven as the clock nears twelve and the water is boiling on the stove and they are together, always.
He finishes making their tea and sets them at their seats on the island. They're not quite touching but they are close enough to reach out, to know they are there for each other. At times like this she knows he needs the silence more than the reassurance. Her presence doing more for him than any words can. Sometimes she wants to ask, wants to prod and wants to know the details of the things he can't help but bring home from work. The things that bring him to this dark place where sometimes she is scared one day she won't be able to reach him. But she doesn't, she won't, not until he offers. So, they sit in silence while drinking their tea, and when she notices he's finished (she always finishes first, he always makes fun of her for it) she grabs their mugs and rinses them in the sink before he can stand to his feet.
She can feel his eyes track her as she now moves about the kitchen. She doesn't comment on it, doesn't push, just lets him stare. It makes him feel better, she thinks, to know that she's moving, breathing, living in their space. She wipes her hand on one of the towels that lays on the counter and turns to face him, leaning against the sink, hands coming up to rest on top. Her head tilts as she studies him; there are bags that are beginning to form under his eyes, his fingers twitch like they are looking for something to hold onto, and his brows are furrowed, likely wondering what she is doing, as he traces the scope of her neck down her arms to her waist as the rest of her disappears behind the island. She feels exposed, but it doesn't scare her. If there's anyone she wants to be laid bare for it's him, always. She lets out a sigh that can only be fond as she nods her head to their bedroom and leaves him in the kitchen.
She turns the shower on, testing the temperature and taking a look around to make sure he has everything he needs. She notices his body wash is running low and mentally adds it to their shopping list. She brushes her teeth and washes her face, rinsing the day away. When she turns around he's leaning in the doorway, still watching, still making sure she is whole and there. He steps towards her and grabs her waist, pulling her flush against his front. She tilts her head to meet his eyes.
"Are you going to join me?" There's a small twinkle in his eyes, mischievous and a little taunting.
She tries to push out of his hold but his grip only tightens. When his face turns into a pout she wonders how his mom ever said no to him. She frees herself anyways and steps back, placing her hands behind her backs and keeping at least two feet of space between them.
"Another time, love, tonight you shower while I pick up around the apartment." She closes the distance between them just enough to plant her hands against his chest and press a kiss to his cheek. She's out the door before he can argue. She hears him grumbling and she laughs to herself. She checks the locks on the doors, makes sure windows are shut tight, and lights are off, she glances at the sink and decides dishes can wait for the morning. When she comes back to the room, there's steam rising from the bottom of the door. She can hear him in there, humming something catchy, a song, she thinks, from one of their shared playlists. She changes into her pajamas, opting to steal one of his shirts, the smell of him engulfing her as she lays in bed waiting.
"Is that my shirt?" Is the first thing he asks when he appears from the shower, dampness sticks to him like a second skin, he's running a towel over his hair trying to get as much water soaked up as possible, she'll have to remind him to do his curl routine in the morning, like she always does. But she doesn't mind, she likes the repetition, knowing that he needs her even for the little things.
"Yes, is there a problem with me wearing it?" She has one arm folded under her head, the other splayed across her stomach as she watches him watch her.
Instead of a reply, he crawls into the bed and on top of her before rubbing his wet hear under her neck, over her chest and stomach. She does nothing to stop the laughs from leaving her body, she tries and fails to push him away and when he finally lifts his head she can see the day has left and leaves behind him and her and even if it's just for the next day or two, she's glad she can give him this reprieve. She pushes the hair that's fallen in front of his eyes out of the way and plants another kiss to his forehead, he closes his eyes and hums. So, she goes for one eye, then the other, then one cheek and the next, his nose, his chin, before finally landing on his lips.
"Let's go to sleep." It's nothing but a whisper, something soft to end the day. They've never needed anything more than that. He nods and reaches over her to turn off the lamp by their bed before settling on her side and pulling her close. She peeks one more time at the clock on the wall, it's slightly illuminated by the city that never sleeps, it reads just past twelve o'clock. She closes her eyes, already feeling the warmth of his breath above her and slips away.
—
She wakes up the next morning wrapped in strong arms, breath tickling the back of her neck and the sun lighting up their room. A glance at the clock tells her its just past nine. She lets out a breath and settles further into the arms around her. It's Saturday, which means there's laundry to be done and meals to prep and errands to run. With that thought, she turns in his hold and she traces the scrunch of his nose and the furrow of his eyebrow with her finger. He ducks from her touch and buries his head in her chest where he mumbles something unintelligent. She laughs and drags his face back up to hers, her hands warming his cheeks.
"Open your eyes." She bumps her nose against his. "It's time to get up."
He keeps his eyes stubbornly closed, "A few more minutes, whatever we have to do today will still be waiting for us when we get up."
A light laugh escapes her mouth, "Come on, your family's coming for dinner tomorrow and we still need to decide what we're cooking for them."
"We?" He raises a brow, eyes still closed.
"OK, fine, what you are cooking for them." She rolls her eyes, and based off the smirk that starts on his face she knows he knows she did that.
"Just five more minutes sweetheart, five more." His voice softens on sweetheart and her heart squeezes just a bit tighter.
"Hey." The force of her voice catches his attention.
"I'm here."
"I love you." She says it softly but with the indefiniteness of a thousand lives lived between them.
"I love you." He tightens his hold around her.
She thinks again of the laundry, and the food, and the errands, and the outside world waiting for them. She settles in despite, her head sits upon his chest where his heartbeat reaches her ear in a steady drum, and they drift back into sleep.