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Yor notices that it starts the next day after Yuri’s friends from the Foreign Ministry dinner party.
It is subtle at first - she even scolds herself for imagining things. How her husband’s warmth has become closer to her, more than the few occasions where it was nothing but happy accidents. Yes, that was before. Before, when she did the dishes and Loid stayed by her side drying what she cleaned - even if Yor noticed the heavy tiredness on his eyes and that he had cooked her favorite dinner after spending hours trying to do homework with Anya. He still did everything for her.
Before. Before, he would not rely on her, so the physical closeness between them was brief. (And before, when she did not know how much it was possible to love him this much).
That is probably why at the dinner party Yor could feel a stiffness between them - she could not completely bask in the coziness of their hug. But Loid’s hand remained on her arm, and Yor managed to peek through her dizziness to the expression he was making. His smile was flawless and charming and so well practiced. Her satisfaction of them appearing like a good husband and wife in front of everyone was mashed with the hollowness of wanting more - just a bit more, if she was allowed to be selfish for a moment.
But then Yor held him back home, and she could feel his exhausted body relaxing against hers, and she was happy. She told him that, exactly that. And her husband understood, it seems, because this time she could imagine his eyes lingering over her for a moment longer than usual.
His fingers had squeezed around hers - she does not know how much she imagined it.
When she placed him on his bed (with the help of Martha) Loid was already deep asleep (or passed out from a long war, according to Anya’s words as she watched him).
That night, Yor did not imagine that… cuddling would become required so often between them. Maybe Loid observed it to be very necessary after the party. Or maybe he was always this close, and she never noticed it through the naiveness of her feelings? Maybe. Mabe Yor just started to be a better wife now that she’s aware of her husband, and his heart and how deeply lukewarm his touch his.
Maybe it is just now that she’s aware of her love for him that she can see through the smallest, mundane details.
The way Loid’s movements are never accidental, but calculated.
There is a blackout at their home. Apparently, it affects the whole street.
Anya screams, between excitement and exclaiming something about a vampire attack. Yor is about to reach for her daughter out of instinct (since she can see easily in the dark) but she does not predict Loid’s arm instantly grabbing her by the shoulders and bumping her to his side. Strawberries explode at her cheeks, her heart a little wild, out-of-tune orchestra on her bones. He is dragging her very close against his chest, and Yor is already clutching at his brown-light shirt before she can fully react to the situation.
His palm. His wide palm between her shoulder blades. She always noticed that Loid’s hands were always particularly rough, the skin of his palms calloused and filled with scars so small they looked like footmarks on the sand. Then the smell of detergent and old paper from his shirt. His voice, very close to her ear. At this moment, as he cuddles her in a protectiviness that Yor does not need - but Loid does not know this, because even as she shakes on his arms out of embarrassment, her husband mistakes it from fear.
“Don’t worry, Yor,” he reassures her, his other hand placed on Anya's head as she clings to her papa's leg. “It’s just a blackout.”
She too clinged at him after what they believed to be an incident at the live live broadcast. Back then, she shivered out of fear and relief for him. And back then, Loid too mistook her actions for fear at herself and the helpless situation. So he becomes protective, for a bit, and she lets him. Yor lets him take care of them even if she too wants to do it for him.
And so Loid hugs her close to him, again. And Yor makes sure not to glance up at him when the light returns minutes later, so that she does not become very aware of how close to their faces are, again. It is Loid who leaves her side when everything returns back to normal, and Yor can sigh in relief (and in a bit of disappointment).
She makes sure to avoid his gaze for the rest of the night.
Yor does not fear the street nor she needs to be aware of the passing noises before crossing the road. (She has been hit by so many cars through her work that they feel like bare mosquitos). Her husband, of course, does not know this - nor should he. But when they’re returning home together after bumping on the road back from work, she lets Loid sneak his arm around her back, press his fingers on her shoulder, and gently push her to his side when a tram passes very close to her side.
It is all very brief. Loid exchanges their positions as he places himself on the side of the street, continuing as if nothing happened, still debating whether they should get Anya cake for dessert tonight after she (barely) passed her languages exam. But even then, even now, his warmth is once again very close to her - dangerous, how his hand is particularly almost brushing the back of hers as they reach their building.
Yor has to count until one hundred to calm the selfish, dangerous hopes in her imagination.
She is, of course, unaware that at this very moment agent Twilight is fighting all his instincts to stop his twitching fingers to wrap around hers.
Yor remembers her daughter going to bed early and Franky staying until very late. She remembers sharing a second bottle of wine with him. And she remembers Loid’s scolding voice to his friend somewhere then turning in a gentle tone towards where was was - begging her to drink water.
Then there was too much laughing, then Yor getting angry over something silly - her leg throwing an useless kick and her fist a clumsy attack to the air. Then, a sand-warm hand gently holding her wrist, a second hand around her back. Her senses filled with his smell of clean clothes and paper and faint beer. A glass carefully placed on her lips.
Franky is already gone, she barely notices as she lets the coolness pour on her throat.
“Drink some water, darling.”
The gulps of cold water become mellow on her dizzy mind. Yor giggles, closing her eyes to the bliss. She lets herself dream into the words, into the care - into knowing down, very, very deep down and faintly, that they are very alone right now.
She returns his touch, maybe, because her nose seeks the domestic scent of him and his light-brown shirt on his chest. There are hands cuddling her, squeezing for a mere second before she is floating into Loid’s arms towards her room.
Darling.
Hands are taking off her boots and tucking the heavy quilt over her body. The sunlight touch of her husband is replaced by the soft mattress under her, but Yor sighs in contentment, and she lets herself fall asleep without feeling the long, lingering blue gaze over hers.
The movie theater is particularly crowded tonight.
Loid picked a popular film in town for their Friday date, so this should not be a surprise. But this theater is particularly small and the seats are squeezed too close to each other.
A large man is sitting next to her, shoving her to the side by the shoulder. Yor has to stay very, very stiff with her hands clenching into fists over her lap to keep from pressing against Loid as he sits beside her. She does her best to stay focused on the black and white screen - the laughter of the whole room encouraging to follow the dark comedy, but the closeness of her husband is very distracting. Yor has to scold herself for being such an ungrateful wife after Loid did his best in trying to find something they both would enjoy. So she tries, and she tries, but the stranger next to her pushes her until Loid suddenly hugs her by the shoulders and gently presses her to his shoulder.
Yor does her best to shush her helpless heart - hopeful and scared and all happy - when she glances at Loid from the side. The smile he gives her is his one of reassurance that he always has just for her. Then she notices that some of the few happy couples in the movie theater are cuddling just like them - and she understands. This is what husband and wives do in public, too, they just have become better at this.
She still lets her head fall to his shoulder, and Yor moves her body so that it’s angled to his side, her squeezed knees brushing his leg. Loid’s fingers are now displayed over her shoulder, gently resting her to his side, until she can feel his cheek barely, faintly resting on the crown of her head.
It is cold outside. When the movie is over, the street is almost empty, with very few stars in the sky.
It begins to drizzle. Loid has taken an umbrella with him, just in case. He is always so prepared for everything, but she is not. She apologizes, then he smiles, and he opens the umbrella so that they both are under it. Her husband’s hand cuddles her body against his side. It is not necessary, of course, but she lets him. There are no excuses told out loud this time.
He only explains: “I am always happy when you rely on me too, Yor.”
And she does. She lets him prioritize that the umbrella stays more over side than his, and he lets her place her hand through the crook of his arm. Yor breathes through the now heavy rain and the smell of his damp coat, very close to her face.
Two hands are touching now.
The weeks become particularly rough for Loid. Yor never asks much about it, knowing that the hospital and Anya’s studies are a priority for him - even when according to his words, he is failing at everything about it. He lets her take care of the clothes and dinner, and he eats the burnt stew and the undercooked burger with a smile on his face. (Even her sweet daughter does not complain this time). Loid even asks for her help to explain a particular math problem to Anya, and Yor says yes, of course, with a big smile on her face. She does her best to guide their daughter through the books and she manages to find a good rhythm with her husband to explain everything to her everything.
Her husband is relying on her now. Fully and without shame. Finally.
After an hour, Anya has become very focused, her tongue peeking through the side of her mouth in deep concentration - just like Yor does. She giggles in contentment, happy, the tea still warm between her palms.
Sitting on the couch, on her side, Loid’s eyelids begin to become heavy bags of salt.
He does his best to stay awake but his head keeps falling over and over, until he falls against the spot between her neck and her shoulder. Yor jump in her place, surprised and embarrassed, feeling his relaxed breathing very close to her now.
“I’m sorry, Yor, I…” He yawns, eyes closed, barely aware of what he is doing. “I need to rest my eyes just for a moment.”
Her heart becomes filled with cotton at the sight of him.
“Of course, Loid.”
He falls instantly asleep.
At some point, Anya becomes sleepy too. She clings to the side of the couch, resting her little head on her mama’s lap. That’s how Yor ends up squeezed on the middle of the couch, with her husband on a side and her daughter on the other. (Then Bond, resting at her feet). And so all her family falls into a peaceful sleep without the fears outside, because they are seeking her warmth.
Yor’s hand caresses the side of her daughter’s head. After some time, she grows bolder and lets her other arm to circle around Loid’s shoulders, pressing him closer to her side. Her smile is wide and filled with little, newborn stars - pressing her grin against her husband's messy hair.
She murmurs something to him, all her gratitude, pouring her heart to him, knowing that tonight, he is too deep asleep to be able to hear the words of secret she has been holding to him. Yor waits. Thinking he has heard her. Her clumsy, to-sincere love confession. She waits, and waits, afraid and stiff.
Loid snores in his sleep.
Yor laughs then. It’s the first time she has seen him sleep so deeply that he becomes unaware of every noise around him. She understands that it means he is unburdened now, that he has shared half of his worries to her. It is not the same kind of love she holds for him, but it is enough.
She is content - with how their hearts are on the same path at least for once.
Yor laughs and stares to the window, to the night, awake and protective of her home, happier than she’s been in years.