For @verypersonalscreencaps because they didn’t want me to forget about my OTP Cathy and Michael:
(Set moments after the end of series 3)
Cathy laughs over the mouth of the bottle of champagne she’s just been drinking from and has to wipe at the corner of her lip when some of the fizz escapes. She and Michael are sitting on an old fallen tree log in the forest, an open bag of crisps at their feet.
“Well,” she passes him the bottle and watches as he takes a sip, “I’m not really sure. I hadn’t planned this far in advance.”
Michael’s eyes are bright and alive and Cathy feels the tension fleeing from her body. She feels as though the big hole Dave left in her life is being mended carefully by Michael’s gentle hand and she can’t keep the smile from her lips.
“You could have warned me,” Michael chuckles softly and offers her the bottle back, “I’d have liked to have seen their faces.”
An easy silence falls between them and Cathy’s fingertips toy with the bottle’s neck as she watches Michael. Everything suddenly seems so easy. It’s as if they’ve been edging along the ledge of a window for ages and have with a single step, taken flight.
It doesn’t matter what Jason thinks, or Maureen. It doesn’t even matter that both of them still miss Dave. They always will. But for the first time Cathy, in the very deepest part of her soul, let’s herself realize that she wouldn’t trade back. Not when she looks at Michael and can feel the love he has for her filling the air. She can feel it when she inhales and exhales, can feel it when he smiles, when his blue eyes meet hers.
Michael reaches out and gently takes the bottle from her grasp, placing it down next to the long forgotten crisps and then looks at her, looks at her as though she has created the forest that surrounds them and the sun that peeks through the overgrowth from above.
“I love you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. There’s a catch in his voice as though he’s not sure he’s allowed to say it so openly like that just yet, but he doesn’t look away. He won’t be embarrassed by what he feels and not having to hide it has given him the bravado he’s needed all of these years.
“I love you Michael,” Cathy answers gently, quietly, trying it out. It warms her tongue and broadens the smile that spreads at her lips.
He tugs almost imperceptibly at her soft fingertips and it’s enough to draw her closer towards him. His hand leaves hers to settle at the curve of her hip as he gently draws her into his side, engulfing her completely into his arms. She feels the tears prickling at her eyes and presses her face into his chest.
Neither says anything for a long time, but both listen to the quiet still of the forest and the sounds of birds fluttering and pecking away in the treetops. Michael’s hand still gently massages Cathy’s side and it isn’t until she rolls her hips beneath his caress that he feels the change in energy. When he looks down he sees she’s looking at him, with the same look she’d had that night after the cinema. He can feel his body immediately respond to it, and while he is hardly feeling reflective, he knows he’s never had such clear and sudden reactions as when he’s been around Cathy.
“Should we—“ he starts, gesturing towards the house, though they are a good distance away from it.
Cathy shakes her head, her tongue softly caressing her lower lip before she stretches up and places her mouth against his. Gone is the slowness and newness of intimacy despite them having very little practice with each other. They are driven by lost time and desire, by stolen touches at family barbecues and shared glances in the kitchen over whatever inane discussion is taking place.
Michael’s hand drifts to caress her thigh and when she expels hot air against his cheek in a quiet gasp, he is bold enough to lift the knee-length skirt until his hand is skimming along her warm skin. Cathy, brazen herself, looks into his eyes and shifts so that she is standing between his legs. Then she lowers herself to her knees, crunching down on one side of the crisp packet until she laughs and tosses it away from them. Michael reaches out to grasp the sides of her face, his thumb stroking her cheek as he looks down into her eyes before leaning forward to reclaim her mouth.
There’s the rustle of birds flying up out of a nearby bush and for a moment they both freeze. Michael sits upright but Cathy’s hands squeeze the tops of his thighs reassuringly. She doesn’t move. Michael lets out the air that had hitched in his lungs and smiles.
There will be no more interruptions and no more fear. They’ve taken over half their lives to get here and won’t waste a moment’s more in doubt.
Cathy thinks she could get used to this. Michael thinks so too.
