no thoughts just slow dancing with john price in the kitchen after a long, rough mission. the catch? you guys are living together, but you aren’t dating yet.
the music is soft but still present in the background, his big arms holding you up as you rest your head on his warm chest. the two of you are swaying back and forth, and you had never felt this soft with someone. never this delicate, and never this vulnerable.
your hand is in his much larger one, yet the two of you can still feel each other’s callouses and scars. you can feel the other’s edge, the other’s pain. it seeps through you and into him, and vise versa.
for some reason, you feel yourself begin to cry. the feeling of being safe and held in his arms was overwhelming. but he didn’t say anything. he just kissed the top of your head and squeezed you tighter.
earlier, you never would’ve thought in a million years that you would be slow dancing in your shared kitchen with your captain. with this hard, big, intimidating man.
but here you were, being held and taken care of by the only man you’ve ever truly loved. ever truly trusted.
“i’m sorry.” you murmur quietly, the tears now coming more steadily.
“it’s okay to be delicate,” he says, just as quiet. “i’ll take care of you.”
that night, you sleep in the same bed.
as you lay awake, wondering if he’ll ever be able to feel delicate and vulnerable the way you felt, you hear him grumble. he turns over to face you, pulls you closer, and whispers your name.
he whispers it as if it’s a prayer, as if it’s a secret blessing only he can speak. and you smile to yourself, realizing that maybe he already feels soft.
maybe he’s always felt soft with you.