Bob hasn't really, properly been touched in awhile. A few lame bro hugs here and there. A handshake from the cab driver in Malaysia. A physical from a doctor's cold hands, before undergoing the medical trial that would change his life. But his childhood lacked so much in affection. So much.
And forget about skin to skin contact. He's had a few brief encounters while high that he doesn't care to remember, and he's never been in love. It was always about getting the next fix.
When Yelena touches him, it's like she touches his soul. Like he's clean, not damaged by his past. She reaches for him like it's the easiest thing in the world. And she touches him often, like she wants to.
The first time they made contact - her fingertips against his - he chalked it up to the randomness of the moment. Surely this woman wasn't actually trying to reach for him in the explosion, let alone hold his hand. He's disgusted with himself afterward - why had he caused her to relive such an awful memory? Always making it worse...always.
But Yelena touches him again. "Are you hurt?" A gentle grip on the shoulder, traveling up his neck. When he feels her - ruffling the soft baby hair on the back of his head - he freezes instantly. It takes every effort to give her a stiff nod. To look her in the eye. To not fall to his knees, overwhelmed with her warmth. "No, I'm fine, m'fine," he manages, his voice so thin it's barely there. But what he means is, "Oh, god. Please don't stop, Yelena. Ever again."
(part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10)
