𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬, 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠.
𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝘂𝘁𝗲𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁, 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 - 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙚.
𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘨 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 1,296 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘹
𝗝𝗢𝗜𝗡 𝗠𝗬 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧
𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝟒:𝟐𝟓 𝐀𝐌 when Rick tucked his phone into his pant pocket as he descended the stairway, twenty minutes early to his departure time. He had woken from his two hour sleep - nap - with a deeply heavy mixed feeling hovering over his back and tucked within the depth of his stomach. There were tangles of emotions: dread, eagerness, longing, excitement, sadness, yet the majority of the negativity he felt had been doused with the positive feeling of waiting and already, his day was off to the perfect start. This, leading Task Force X once again into line of battle, finally, he was back to feeling as if his duty was valuable and meaningful.
His spirits were high from the minute he fell asleep the night prior, (granted, he had fallen asleep much later than he planned, however, he was in no way, shape, or form going to turn down your affection - especially when there was no telling of when he’d be back home and embraced by your endless love and touch) to the morning he woke right beside you. He had been wide awake, breezily hoisting himself off the bed with a press of his lips to your temple before stumbling into the bathroom to begin his morning routine.
For you, it had been four hours too early to be awake, yet to Rick’s surprise, when he exited the bathroom with his towel around his waist, he found your spot on the bed empty and cold. His assumption had been that you tiredly pulled yourself out of the warm covers to take your dog out bright and early. Instead, his nostrils were flared with the overwhelming scent of eggs and vegetables.
It was a sight for sore eyes, after all, you and cooking in the kitchen did not mix without the exception of pasta and salad being our main and only niches. Rick stood in the wide open doorframe, watching in gleam and admiration as you waddled around the kitchen in mix-matched slipper socks and his big t-shirt as you went back and forth between flipping the food atop of the stove and glancing at your phone screen.
Quietly he walked to your back, his left hand resting atop of your hip while his right slid underneath your shirt, palming your bare lower abdomen. His fingers traced your skin and he pressed a closed mouth kiss to your cheek before resting his chin atop of your shoulder.
Your body gave way to the warmth of his frame and hands encasing you to his front and as if you were a magnet finding its home, you automatically leaned backwards into his embrace. His fingers danced across your stomach while his lips once against pressed to your cheek before lingering to your earlobe. Humming, you bit your bottom lip in a soft smile, your eyes completely and desperately training to the pan.
“You’re awake early,” he noted, his voice muffled against your skin, sending waves of satisfying vibrations into your eardrum and down your spine. Rick’s arms tightened around your lower frame, hugging you as his eyes darted from the dimpled grin upon your lips to the spatula in your left hand. “Do you recall the night we went to the beach and ate at that raggedy diner three years ago?”
Rick’s brow arched and he nodded in remembrance.
It had been your first non-official-official date. If one would even call it that considering you were barely friends that occasionally tolerated the other in a day and found solace together at night. Your eyes met his before glancing back down to the pan, flipping the egg. “Veggie, ham, and cheese omelette,” you stated, “you said it was decent but nothing, nothing, could top your moms…”
He watched the way your tongue lightly poked through the corner of the left side of your mouth in concentration when you lifted the omelet from the pan and carefully placed it on a plate, and couldn’t help his own toothy grin from widening.
“It was the only food that would calm your nerves, make you happy, less anxious when you were young,” you spoke and slid from his grasp, “it was always a great day when you had it with a side of sourdough,” you casually glanced at the toaster to your right, “and hashbrowns..” before opening the fridge and pulling out a liter, “and apple juice,” you finished, placing it atop of the kitchen table.
Rick’s eyes were soft, lips parted, his body was relaxed yet he felt intense fire with each beat of his heart as he stared at you in sudden disbelief and awe. Silence - a loss of words due to immense over-sensed of emotions - was a rarity for him, and all he could do was tightly grasp your cheeks and deeply press his lips against yours. Your hands found home around his back and you lightly moaned into his lips, the corners of yours twitching upward to match his heartfelt warm expression.
Your hands slid from his neck to his chest, tapping your palms against his pecs, “don’t worry,” your eyes glimmered, “I had breakfast with your mom three times last week just so she could teach me and ensure I could get it right and make it taste good.”
Rick’s thumbs lingered upon the apples of your cheeks as his green eyes burned into yours. You subtly bit your bottom lip and you rushed, giving away a slight nerve to your tone as he had yet to vocally respond.
“It’s going to be a great day,” you stated with a slight prideful nod, “this is your day and you’re going to do a damn good job finding this starfish thing and beat the shit out of god knows what and once again, restore the world to homeostasis.” Your teeth had been molded in a tight forceful grin that Rick had been completely aware of from the second you grounded your molars.
There was fault within your voice, a soft and slight croak where you not only were providing words of assurance to him, but also to yourself. If there was one thing you admired most about him, it was his dedication and perseverance towards his work, the look upon his face when opening a manila folder of a new mission, the way his veins throbbed and eyes lit up in eagerness to be leading, and the look of pure solace and yearning when he returned home to you.
However, admiring him for his constant need to protect humanity had not made separation and fear any better. You were his full number one support system and you did all you could to hide the fact that deep down your fear was to receive a letter or phone call from his boss that he wouldn’t be coming home. While you mumbled positive words of affirmation, kneading the words I love you into his thick skull in case it were the last, you silently begged for him to stay.
This breakfast wasn’t just for him, it was one last moment you needed, the reassurance you needed - just in case - and Rick knew that. You didn’t have to say a word, he could read your body language and the look within your eye. There had been no spark like normal but a constant dark pool swirling your irises, a color and sensation of desperation and hopeful yearning.
“I just wanted to make sure it was off to a perfect start,” you muttered, your voice heightening of confidence and pride. Rick’s thumbs caressed the side of your face, the pads of his fingers drifting from your cheeks to your jaw, then mindlessly hovering back and forth across your lips. “It’s perfect,” he said softly, pressing his lips to yours, “thank you.”
