the door shuts behind them with that quiet, expensive click, and the sound feels final in a way she didn't expect. outside disappears all at once β the cold air, the car, the long chain of travel that brought them here β and the warmth inside wraps around their shoulders like something deliberate. for a second she just stands there, letting her eyes adjust to the soft glow of the place.
itβs beautiful. thereβs no denying that. glass and dark wood and clean lines that make everything feel deliberate, carefully placed. the kind of space they normally assume they'll knock something over in if they stay too long. but it doesn't feel hostile. just empty, and waiting.
she notices the bags when he sets them down, hers resting on top of his without thought, and the sight pulls a quiet reaction from somewhere under her ribs. a small, domestic image that shouldn't matter as much as it does. together, their brain supplies before they can stop it.
when he repeats it β you've never been on a vacation β her attention comes back to him. there's a familiar reflex in her body to shrug it off, to downplay it before anyone can turn it into a sad little anecdote. people tend to hear things like that and decide they've figured you out. they hate that look more than almost anything. but he doesn't give her that look. he just holds the thought for a moment, quiet and careful, and somehow that's easier.
his thumb grazes their cheekbone and they go still without meaning to, their eyes lifting to meet his. the question β you know this isn't some test, right? β lands deeper than he probably realizes. because a small part of her had been treating it that way, instinctively cataloging the room, the situation, the rules she might not know yet.
don't break anything.
don't look out of place.
don't make it obvious you've never done this before.
the knot of that loosens a little when he says they don't have to be impressed, or grateful. that he just wanted her here. with him.
his forehead touches theirs and they close their eyes for a second, letting the warmth of him settle them. it occurs to her then that he's exposed here too, in a way he might not be used to, with no team, schedule, or buffer of people or expectations. just them. the quiet of the house pressing in around them. and when he pulls back enough to look at them, they're already smiling a little.
"good," she murmurs first, her voice softer than before. "i'd feel kind of weird if i was the only one internally panicking about being excited."
their hand lifts almost automatically, fingers catching around his wrist before sliding down to lace with his. grounding, for both of them.
"i know you're not testing me," she adds after a moment. honesty asks for a little more, so they give it. "i think i'm just used to walking into places and feeling like i have to earn being there somehow. or act normal enough that nobody notices i've never done this kind of thing before." their gaze drifts briefly around the room again, then settles back on him. "but i don't really feel that with you."
that part surprises her a little, hearing it out loud, but it's true.
their thumb brushes over his knuckles slowly. "and yeah, the house is⦠kind of incredible. i'm not gonna pretend it isn't. but that's not really the part i'm excited about." a quiet breath leaves her, almost a laugh. "i think i mostly like that it's just you and me."
they lean a little closer again, not quite a kiss, just enough to share the warmth of the space between them.
"also," she adds, a hint of mischief slipping into her tone now, "i did come prepared for vacation activities."
there's a flicker in their eyes that suggests they're thinking about the carefully folded things in their suitcase. things she definitely didn't bring for the hot tub or the breakfast toast.
their smile tilts crooked. "so you not having a script is probably good," she finishes lightly. "because i definitely don't have one either."
