It’s rare that they get peace in the mornings, time before one of them has to run off to work but this morning, Claire intends to make every moment of it count.
The radio is playing on the background as she pulls him towards her, pulling his hands around her waist before her own slide up and around his neck. “i hope you don’t mind~?”
Lives interconnected, it always stunned him when he thought about it too long, how they’d met like a violent and instant whirlwind of chaos, settled and then found their paths diverging once again after some time spent apart. Stunned, but he was always grateful. When he found his thoughts weighing far too low on the darker days, when the bottom of a bottle was all he had to reflect on his life, on where everything had led him, it helped to count his blessings, to try reminding himself that everything had happened for a reason in some way or another.
Hard as it was to believe, to make himself try to pretend he found meaning in any of what he used to do back then… without fail? His two main reasons for fighting that remained pure, untarnished and unrusted over years of fighting… were that he wanted to make sure he faced the horrors of the world so Claire and Sherry wouldn’t have to. To make a real change, to make sure something gave eventually with his efforts aiding the fight to ensure it all ended differently than what they’ve all seen time and time again.
He’d admit… when it came to Claire, at the start, he knew how set on finding her brother she’d been; he hadn’t known the full details until later, shared in a rushed flurry about how the missing man in question was her last remaining family–the unspoken but desperate importance stressed on confirming his well-being in some way. He didn’t understand it much then, but now, he thinks he has an inkling, a small scrap to reference to help give what she must’ve felt then more meaning in his headspace.
He’d envied it in a way, growing up an orphan, no next of kin, no cradling connections to catch him and hold like a safety net he’d so desperately needed then. An ugly feeling, the flare of jealousy at not being alone, at having that connection to cling to like a rope over a cliff’s looming edge. A guiding light of sorts to keep going and leading you on when all you wanted to do was give up.
Feeling Claire tug him back down to earth again, the grogginess of lingering sleep is effortlessly chased away by deceptively dainty fingers pawing along his solid frame, coming to loop cheekily around his hips, where she urges him to spin. He stands at the counter in her kitchen, just near the coffee pot, merrily bubbling and brewing away. He goes willingly, humming past fond quirked lips. Past thoughts faintly cloud about, loose concepts weakly threading among one another in a connection he’s too hazy to continue chasing as he peers down into bright mossy sights.
Her arms are a grounding anchor settling so comfortably around the bend of his neck, his own hands weaving around her hips to clasp lazily at the small of her back. She makes a sound of loud approval, like a cat soaking up tender touches, purring in mirth as she leans most of her weight back into him to catch. Always, she’d trust him to catch her, even with everything they’d been through.
It never failed to make his walls crumble, his usual cropped cynicism melt away like brittle ice when Claire was involved. Since that hushed plea to promise he’d watch over Sherry until she got back, since he’d gotten the urgent email a few months into his training… since everything had happened that had made him feel their bond lay strained and ready to snap, only to bend and ease, growing a few strands stronger in time. He’s thankful it’s all led them to this moment. He feels that age-old fear wither in his chest, knowing that, even if it was only gone for a single moment, it meant the world, and that Claire was able to shut those thoughts down enough to grant the tired Agent a proper peace of mind.
He sways the pair in place, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers, steely eyes studying every single tiny and large detail, taking in each and every perfect inch of the moment to commit it wholly to memory. He never wanted to leave it, the warmth of it bathed in a near mystical light, warm, comforting–safe. She’s stunning, hair taking on an even more fiery hue when kissed in sunlight, eyes looking pale but no less vivid, full of life. There’s a quiet nagging in the back of his mind reminding him he was about to start their breakfast, before he quiets it down with a soft snort.
“Who, me?” His boyish smile quirks crooked, teeth flashing from between his lips as he presses a kiss just shy of her own. He can already hear the exasperated huff she’ll give long before she does it, the roll of her eyes in fond faux annoyance. She chases his touch like a flower to light, lifting herself up higher on the balls of her feet, and as always, he catches and carries her weight in confidence.
He’s right where he wants to be. Woven, twined and embedded into her life like either a splinter or a chosen thread to embroider and enhance. However, she’d have him; he was happy to stay until his welcome was worn.
` // 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 .
*transmission request from . . . ( 🎤︎︎ ) . . . @heavenmcde
