[ there's so much that goes unsaid between them, assumed in the breaths between their kisses, in their exchanged gazes and smiles that every once in a while, he wonders if he's understood something wrong.
he's not a mind-reader, but he thinks he knows her well enough by now, and that she showed up here for him when he asked speaks loudly enough through her actions rather than words. that much he knows, just like how the last kiss she presses to his lips reassures her that she's willing to listen to what he has to say.
not that he knows exactly what he's even trying to express. her small hand finds his and he threads his fingers between hers, the action coming as natural as breathing itself as they step back toward the stair door.
a short flight of stairs takes them down to his front door. the safe house is one of the penthouse suites, though it occupies only a small corner of the floor plate. he chose it for its view of the city, where he could keep a pulse with a pair of binoculars and watch for activity from the comfort of his couch. big, arching windows let the glow of the city in, though a number of warm, low lights are on. he tucked his tech away behind the folding doors earlier in the night, hiding away the four panels of LED screens, the keyboards, the trackers, and the suit, letting the safe house take on an appearance of normalcy. tonight had been his, and now, it was hers too, and he couldn't be happier about it.
the front door swings shut and there's the little beep-beep of the security system setting all measures in place. she's been here before, slept in the loft bed before, cooked breakfast with him in the kitchen, curled up on the couch before, that now, just being in this safehouse without her feels immediately like something was missing from it.
he shrugs off his jacket and takes her coat to hang them both in the entry closet, before his lips part around a quiet sigh from the way warmth settles into his body. ]
( to think how far they've come, how the magnitude of such a simple motionβhis lacing his fingers with hersβhas shifted over time. like the way she finds his ankle with hers in sleep, how fingertips search for the slightest curl of his forearm when they're walking. it's an intimacy that isn't missed to her, to move, touch, have without thinking, every bit an indication of her unlearning being so bitterly, so utterly alone.
maybe it should leave her unsettled, but she feels safe, here with him. that wasn't nothing.
the suite feels familiar, a seeping warmth that crackles at the cold that'd only just begun to sink into her. quiet, gaze skirting across the open floor plan, memories dotted across itβfollowing him, barefooted and heart heavy in her chest up to that loft bed; palms at her thighs, lifting her atop the counter while breakfast simmered on the stove; cheek on the steady rise and fall of his chest on the couch, the pang of knowing she would have to leave, soon.
shoulders lift, helping him take her coat to hang it with his own, and she's only venturing further when he does so, first. )
Mm. ( a thoughtful sound, running fingertips over the back of a dining chair. ) Tea, maybe. ( a seemingly perfect companion to the cold. )
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he's not a mind-reader, but he thinks he knows her well enough by now, and that she showed up here for him when he asked speaks loudly enough through her actions rather than words. that much he knows, just like how the last kiss she presses to his lips reassures her that she's willing to listen to what he has to say.
not that he knows exactly what he's even trying to express. her small hand finds his and he threads his fingers between hers, the action coming as natural as breathing itself as they step back toward the stair door.
a short flight of stairs takes them down to his front door. the safe house is one of the penthouse suites, though it occupies only a small corner of the floor plate. he chose it for its view of the city, where he could keep a pulse with a pair of binoculars and watch for activity from the comfort of his couch. big, arching windows let the glow of the city in, though a number of warm, low lights are on. he tucked his tech away behind the folding doors earlier in the night, hiding away the four panels of LED screens, the keyboards, the trackers, and the suit, letting the safe house take on an appearance of normalcy. tonight had been his, and now, it was hers too, and he couldn't be happier about it.
the front door swings shut and there's the little beep-beep of the security system setting all measures in place. she's been here before, slept in the loft bed before, cooked breakfast with him in the kitchen, curled up on the couch before, that now, just being in this safehouse without her feels immediately like something was missing from it.
he shrugs off his jacket and takes her coat to hang them both in the entry closet, before his lips part around a quiet sigh from the way warmth settles into his body. ]
Want a drink? Whiskey? Tea?
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maybe it should leave her unsettled, but she feels safe, here with him. that wasn't nothing.
the suite feels familiar, a seeping warmth that crackles at the cold that'd only just begun to sink into her. quiet, gaze skirting across the open floor plan, memories dotted across itβfollowing him, barefooted and heart heavy in her chest up to that loft bed; palms at her thighs, lifting her atop the counter while breakfast simmered on the stove; cheek on the steady rise and fall of his chest on the couch, the pang of knowing she would have to leave, soon.
shoulders lift, helping him take her coat to hang it with his own, and she's only venturing further when he does so, first. )
Mm. ( a thoughtful sound, running fingertips over the back of a dining chair. ) Tea, maybe. ( a seemingly perfect companion to the cold. )