Wanna move inside of your life - yes, it's ANOTHER Brettsey future fic/drabble from me. Same universe as 'we have made a home' (which you can read here: https://heartsapartment.tumblr.com/post/668831063351738368/fic-excerpt), just think of it as happening a couple of years earlier!
Oh and title taken from Dermot Kennedy - What Have I Done. Enjoy!
“And that’s the last of it”, Matt puts down the suitcase he’s carrying next to the three others he’s already brought in for her. He squints a little. “I probably should’ve considered adding another wing to the house”.
“Hey!” Sylvie playfully throws a sweater she’s just pulled out of her suitcase at him. “Do you know how hard it is to fit your entire life into four suitcases? Even my packing cubes weren’t cutting it”.
“I’m teasing”, he drops her sweater on the bed, puts his arm around her waist from behind, places a kiss on her ear. “Although we probably should buy a bigger wardrobe”.
“Oh, I saw one I liked online, I’ll show you it”, she smiles as Matt trails kisses from her ear down her neck. “This is not conducive to me unpacking”.
She feels his smile against her skin, watching as he pulls a shirt she’s holding out of her hands, dropping it, and turning her around.
She runs her hands across his chest, both of them just looking at each other. He strokes her face, pulls her bottom lip down with his thumb, leans in.“ I’m glad you’re here”, he whispers against her mouth.
She drops her hands down his chest, fingers playing with his belt. “Maybe you can show me how glad?”, she pulls back, bites her lip. She knows he knows her head tilt is an invitation.
Her laugh echoes around the room as he lifts her easily, tipping them onto the bed, his weight landing on top of her, mouth warm against her neck.
******
Later, she boosts herself up on the kitchen counter, sipping her wine as her eyes track Matt around the kitchen as pulls out peppers from the refrigerator, a spice jar from the drawer. She forgot how much she just likes to watch him.
He catches her looking a few times, each time smiling as she blushes, guilty, and when he passes her, running his hand along her thigh or touching her waist, occasionally dropping her a kiss.
Ben arrives back for dinner, gives her a full on hug (“he really can’t stop talking about you moving in”, Matt had told her one day. “Says he wants you to make your mac & cheese once a week”). He’s much more talkative now than the first Thanksgiving they had together, telling her all about this coding class he’s taking over the summer. There’s a steadiness to him now, a solidness she knows is all to do with Matt.
They work as a team after dinner, Ben washing the dishes and Sylvie drying. Ben leaves them alone so he can complete some assignment that’s due next week (“did he just say that?” Matt had asked her, incredulous), and they take up their old familiar positions when they watch something together, lying side by side, his arm around her and her head on his chest, hand on his stomach.
Sylvie feels tired, eyes closing, long day getting the best of her. His t-shirt is the good kind of old, soft from so many washes, smelling just like him.
She thinks she might have fallen asleep because the next thing she knows, Matt is shaking her gently, brushing her hair back from her face. “Let’s go to bed”, he whispers, pulling her up.
She follows him upstairs, tiredness settling in. He shuts the door to his, their, room behind them. Sylvie goes to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth, decides to leave unpacking anything else until morning when she can see straight. She leans against the door, watching as he takes his t-shirt off, moving a package off of his side of the bed (likes how she can say that there's a his side for good now), something she’d thrown onto it earlier when they pulled the sheets back on.
“What’s in here?” He picks up the misshapen object, thick with bubble wrap, trying to pry it open. He pulls a corner of the tape covering it free, confused at first, eyes creasing with a laugh as he realizes what it is.
“So the hula lamp is going to be a main feature here too?”
“It’s vintage”, Sylvie smiles. “Plus I couldn’t give her away, I feel like she’s my roommate”.
Matt laughs again. “She can stay”. He puts the lamp down on the dresser, smiling. Sylvie wonders if he remembers the very first time he was properly in her bedroom, after, when he’d turned to her and said so seriously, “that is the strangest lamp I’ve ever seen”. She thinks about that night a lot, how inevitable it all felt to her once it finally happened.
She watches him again, going about his nightly routine in front of her. Wonders if it will ever become something she takes for granted. She gets this squeezing feeling in her heart when she realizes that this is going to be her life now, night after night, day after day.
Everything with Matt has always felt like it’s been a long time coming.
Matt climbs in beside her and pulls her into him, warm against her back, kisses the side of her neck, whispers “I love you” into her ear.
