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When N crossed the boundary into the living room, he did not expect to see his partner curled up on the couch, much less without her Datapad. She was tucked into the corner, head resting on one of the fluffy cushions that she'd arranged to prop against the arm. Uzi had insisted that the cushions were unnecessary; impractical, even. Standing in the Department store, she had lectured him about the longevity of materials, how they differed and why there were better options.
It had taken some elbow grease but he did eventually convince her, though Uzi had been adamant about never touching them. She was, at her core, stubborn. Most of the time N could discern, in that moment, why she was choosing to be stubborn and it usually boiled down to a habitual reaction, one that was slowly bleeding out of her. As a result, being hardheaded for the sake of it was increasingly more common and when she did that, N couldn't help but sigh in exasperation at the woman who still largely refused to acknowledge vulnerability.
So seeing her contently laid on the couch in his old band t-shirt with her legs bent into the fetal position, hand tucked beneath her chin with closed eyes… it beckoned a familiar surge of warmth to seize his chest, hijacking all other thought paths to redirect to one thing - his partner, Uzi Doorman.
She was, wholeheartedly, his everything. Uzi often called him a sap, but he couldn't help it! N could rarely contain his adoration to an Uzi-safe degree on a good day, but he also knew she only pretended to be allergic to him. Admitting she liked any degree of affection was torture, apparently. Did that stop him though? No, unless Uzi actually needed or asked for space. In which, he would simply offer his presence until she decided that she was ready.
N's lips upturned into a soft smile at the thought that had surfaced.
She was like a cat. A sometimes grumpy, gremlin of a feline constantly overcompensating for her lack of vertical ground.
Uzi was ‘skittish’, only accepting something through long-since established trust, at her own pace. You couldn't force her to do anything, not really, Instead you just had to wait for Uzi to approach by herself, unless a situation demanded an address. She also tended to prefer warmer spaces too, so even if she denied everything else Uzi still wasn't fully outrunning the allegations.
N stepped closer to the plush couch, leaning down to better look at her. Uzi's strikingly defiant purple hair was sprawled across the couch cushion, eyes closed in a relaxed rest with her mouth slightly agape, soft puffs of air flowing from her mouth with each contented breath. Her soft white hoodie was noticeably askew, creases decorating the fabric in a beautiful crown to a rare moment of her self-liberation.
Reaching out a tentative hand, N lightly brushed her pale cheek with the back of his knuckle. Uzi let out a small noise akin to a whine as her eyebrows furrowed, eyes tensing before opening with a displeased squint. The afternoon light seemingly bounced off of her uncertain violet irises, reflecting the soothingly gentle orange in a captivatingly vibrant glow that never ceased to amaze N.
With an annoyed pout, Uzi adjusted slightly - pushing herself further back so that her spine followed the grooves of the couch. It was a subtle gesture, but one that N had grown to associate with the unspoken offer of ‘proximity’ – because Uzi would never so much as roll her eyes at the explicit mention or description of ‘cuddling’. She looked at him, eyes half-lidded with a mix of visible tiredness, fondness and ofcourse… irritation at being woken up from her seemingly blissful nap.
N moved without a word, hands coming down to support himself as he maneuvered to lay down beside Uzi. His tall frame practically sandwiched her between himself and the couch, but they both know that she'd be vocal about it if she didn't like it. Allowing himself to get more comfortable, N bent his legs ever so slightly and brought his arms to wrap around Uzi's waist, effectively pulling her flush against his chest like two pieces from the same puzzle.
Uzi reciprocated almost instantly, her small hands coming up to securely hold a fistful of his shirt, drawing her head closer to rest within the comfortable crook of his neck with a barely perceptible sigh. They stayed there in a fulfilling silence for what felt like an eternity – but it was an eternity that N wanted to revisit, time and time again like it was an intoxicating addiction within his very veins.
“You're weirdly quiet.” Uzi mumbled against his skin. Her voice wasn't accusatory, though it carried a questioning drawl. “It's scaring me, normally you talk my ears off.” She continued, her tone dipping into a half-hearted grumble, as if that fact actually bothered her.
N could only reply with a thoughtful hum, the vibration soft against Uzi's scalp, a product of their current domestic arrangement. One hand trailed up and along her back, resting between the defined tone of her shoulder blades for a few fleeting moments before reaching its destination; Uzi's hair.
His fingers splayed, burying into the surprisingly soft texture of her relentlessly dyed hair. “You already know how much I love you, there's no need for anything else.” N replied simply, voice a low baritone. He began to expertly scratch at her scalp, a smile blossoming at the predicted reaction of Uzi relaxing. The aforementioned woman closed her eyes again, breathing in the silence as she presumably thought of a way to snark back at him.
“...not what I meant, weirdo.” Is what Uzi eventually settled for.
N made a dramatic, high-pitched gasp at Uzi's retort, mockingly using his hand to mime the act of wiping a tear from one's face. Uzi only glared at him, unamused at his display which only seemed to inspire N even more.
“Maybe, I want to just… ‘exist’ too?” He whispered into her ear, eliciting a furious blush as she weakly hit his chest with her palm. Though Uzi opened her mouth to bite back, N placed a quick finger to her lips before she could interrupt. “Is that not allowed, Zi?” He leaned in, batting his eyelashes at her theatrically.
Uzi's only response was to nip at the finger currently resting over her lips, startling N with a small yelp. She giggled at that, smirking at the man with narrowed eyes.
“That's what you get.” She taunted, a finger poking him playfully.
“For what?!” N squawked, his pitch increasing to an almost unbearable degree – though luckily for Uzi, this was a non-issue at this point. “Is silence a crime, Uzi?”
She looked up at him with a sly smirk, sticking her tongue out childishly. N didn't seem to like that as an answer — obvious by the fact that he proceeded to flick the bridge of her nose, which earned Uzi a yelp of her own.
“Grrgh– N!”
“You started it!”
Uzi glared at him, lips curling into a frown. She then came to the conclusion that it was not worth sacrificing her comfort, and instead resumed her position tucked under N's chin. He understood, because he didn't continue their friendly little altercation and just placed his head back on top of hers.
N had known this woman for seven years, had been dating her for five, and engaged to her for two. Their friendship, dare N say, had been circumstantial in a way. He wouldn't have encountered Uzi at all had he not investigated the commotion beneath the stairwell, choosing to step between her and a group of teens ruthlessly trashing her belongings.
He would never understand bullying. From what goes through a bullies head, to the literal point of it… N just couldn't grasp why or how someone could be so mean, inconsiderate and have a severe lack of human compassion. Uzi never did anything to deserve the reactions that she got, and N couldn't suppress the small fiery bubble of anger that burned within his chest at the mere suggestion of those memories.
But he supposed he should also be thankful. Not for her suffering, no —but for having the opportunity to meet the woman that would change the trajectory of his life, forever— the very same woman that had been and still is, curled against his side because he was warm with no other rational reason. The feisty teen who hadn't ‘grown’ out of her angsty persona, who had never once apologised for the way that she was.
And for that, N would love this woman until he physically couldn't anymore. He'd find a way to love her, even in death and there was absolutely nothing that could stop him.