Found
Summary: Living in Germany while working on your latest film, you run into someone quite unexpected. Can the two of you move past the events of the last seventeen months and find a way forward?
Part Four of Production. Read Stuck (Part One), Caught (Part Two), and Lost (Part Three).
Pairing: Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader
Warnings: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Brief Mentions of COVID-19 Protocols, Mentions of Illness, Heights, Alcohol Consumption, Soft!Austin, Water, Mentions of Infidelity (if you squint), Tears, Fluff!, Language, Mentions of Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ Only
Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only. This story is in no way based on fact. It is simply the product of my fevered brain which just keeps on going.
Word Count: 6148 👀
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The crack of thunder is the only warning you have before the skies open in a deluge of driving rain. The supermarket is just two blocks from your apartment in Duisburg, Germany. The short distance had given you a false sense of security about the threatening weather and now you are completely exposed to the elements.
The natural human reaction to pouring rain causes you to hunch down and walk faster, as though reduced height and increased speed could somehow limit the number of raindrops that hit you. Just one more block. Your shoes are squelching from the unavoidable puddles on the sidewalk. You hustle around the corner onto the street where your temporary lodgings are, abruptly smacking into a solid wall of human.
You’re gasping out apologies, first in English, and then quickly repeating them in some questionable German. Warm hands wrap around your biceps to steady you. The heat of their palms makes the hair on your arms stand on end. Your heart begins to race, and you slowly look up to see that it is in fact a similarly soaked-to-the-skin Austin.
“I finally found you.” He breathes. It’s a whisper, barely audible above the reverberation of the rain on the pavement. The expression on his face is pure shock and awe, as though you were some incredible, mythical archaeological find.
You are speechless as the groceries slip lower in your hands. Hands that are no longer functioning. The rain encourages the bags to slide directly onto the pavement. You can see goosebumps on his skin, the shiver as the wind picks up, snapping you out of your trance. You quickly pick up your things and notice a car across the street with a camera…damn paparazzi…
“Come on.” You manage to form comprehensible words and lead him into your building. Your shoes are squeaking in unison on the stairs as you climb up to the rented, fully furnished flat. You love the light from skylights, but the climb to the fourth floor is an effort when you’re numb from shock. You unlock the door and lead him into the small studio apartment, toeing off your shoes before putting the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. You’re buying time as you go to the linen cupboard, grabbing towels for both of you, and a robe for him.
You’d given an excellent speech not two weeks ago in the shower as you’d imagined him showing up on your doorstep. Witty, concise, eloquent…but all your bravado must have gone down the drain as, now that he is here…you really don’t know what to say.
He’s still standing in the entryway, dripping on the doormat. He seems dumbstruck to be in your presence once more after so long, eyes following your every move as if you might disappear again. You hold out a towel and the large robe supplied by the landlord.
“Here. You can change in the bathroom.” It would not be of any use to either of you to have him catch his death on your doorstep.
You make the rounds, closing the curtains in case that photographer is out there still lurking with their camera, and quickly change your own clothes once he’s closed the door to the bathroom. You throw them in the washing machine, waiting to add his before you start it. Your appreciation for clothing would not allow you to just dry something that had been recently worn. It had to be washed or the dirt would be baked in.
You inspect the damage done to the groceries from their fall as you towel dry your hair…four cracked eggs. You put them into a bowl to cook for dinner, sliding the rest of the groceries away while you wait. Your heart has been pounding since you first felt his hands on your skin…your body singing its usual siren song to throw yourself into his arms. Almost a year-and-a-half on and nothing has changed, apparently.
He steps out of the bathroom in the robe, his damp curls brushed back carelessly. He’s holding his wet clothes, head cocked in silent question.
“In the washer. Then I’ll dry them.”
He walks over to throw them in, dangerously close to you and you fight the sigh at the scent of his cologne. He watches as you get it running. The sound of the driving rain against the roof and skylights, the hum of the washing machine, are the only sounds in the otherwise silent space. You turn to look up at him properly. His hair is back to its natural colour, his skin still tanned from time in the sun wherever he’s been, his eyes look tired…
“Why are you here?” You finally break the silence at the same time as he asks, “Where did you go?”
You swallow roughly and gesture to the living room, moving to sit in the chair to automatically create distance. Your traitorous body would not get in the way this time.
“Home.” You replied. “My contract was done. They took my phone and my pass, and I boarded a plane.”
He sits on the couch opposite you, crossing his legs in a display of modesty. You are grateful; his proximity is already caressing you from across the small coffee table.
“You vanished…I got out of the hospital, and you were gone…eventually someone replied to all my texts, saying that I had the wrong number…God, where do you even live?”
A bitter laugh escapes you before you supplied him with the answer.
“We…we never talked at all….” He exhales.
You shake your head.
“Not for the last three months of production. Not about the important things, anyway. Austin, why are you here?” You repeat your earlier question.
He looks almost hurt at your words.
“I never stopped trying to find you, but no one could tell me…not the studio, not personnel, not Baz, not Catherine…”
You feel heat creeping into your cheeks as Catherine most assuredly could guess that something had passed between you and Austin…her invitation to the premiere must have come with more than one motive. You feel bitterness bubble up in your chest next, pure venom that you want to spit at him: never stopped even when you were banging the model? You physically shake the thought from your head…you don’t want to fight with him…it won’t accomplish anything.
“Outside of that trailer, I was never more than a wardrobe tech caring for your costumes…it would be a breach of privacy to tell you anything I guess.” You swallowed as you’ve still managed to hurt him, his eyes widening as they seek yours.
“You know you are so much more than that though…” His voice croaks slightly.
“Do I, Austin?” You reply tremulously, eyes brimming with tears. “We never talked. And then circumstances tore us apart and I’ve spent the last year-and-a-half trying to figure out what the fuck happened…” You roughly brush away the tears that have fallen onto your cheeks.
The anguish in his voice as he says your name, spoken in protest against your words, grips your heart and clenches it in a fist. You take a shuddering breath.
“I usually take a break between jobs…spend some time at home…but I’ve been moving from job to job to job since last spring…running…” You’re confessing this to yourself as much as to him. “And your success followed me no matter when I ended up.” You give him a pointed look…her name is unspoken but you hope he can decipher your meaning.
His hands rake through his hair mercilessly, tears clinging to his eyelashes as he can’t even look at you now.
“Everything fell apart…my body…us…I was trying so hard to hold it all together and it blew up right in my face. You were the only thing in my life that made any sense, and I never even took five seconds to just fucking tell you that.” His voice is thick with emotion and you’re wiping fresh tears off your cheeks. You’d never seen him so emotionally vulnerable.
“I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you weren’t there anymore.” His eyes flick up to meet yours again. “I was so lost inside that man…I’ve just been letting life happen to me. Who the fuck knows if any of the projects I’ve done since are any good.” His hand scrapes down his face, shaking as it wipes his tears away. “It was never my intention to hurt you…it just happened, she was there, and I was so raw and she…numbed the pain for a while. But I never stopped looking.” He finishes firmly, eyes meeting yours with a pointed look of his own.
It’s your turn to look down, swallowing painfully. “I’m sorry…I fucked that part up. But, I didn’t really have your number for personal use and then everything came so fast. I’d just heard you were in the hospital and...that was really hard. Knowing I couldn’t be there for you, had no right in any one else’s eyes. I respect your privacy and I would never do something like announce our…whatever…to anyone without your consent. They reset the phone right in front of me, like they were doing me a fucking favour.” Your breath shudders as your tears are falling consistently now. “I never could have taken your number without your consent either…” You manage a glance up at him but quickly cover your face as he’s somehow looking at you with affection mixed into the pain – you, the one who’d fucked up.
You don’t see his hands reach out toward you before pulling back with clenched fists. “I fucked up, too. I am so sorry…I’m sorry that we never talked…that I never properly expressed how much you mean to me. I'm sorry that I scared you, that I hurt…” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, “That I hurt you. I’m sorry that I was an utter fool, and it was plastered all over the internet.”
By the time he finishes his statement, your hands have slowly lowered down to rest in your lap, somewhat stunned at the litany of apologies he’s delivering. You exhaled slowly as the last was the most meaningful.
“Thank you.” You murmur, sniffling a little.
“You also deserve to know that I am no longer with her. It was a disaster from the start, and it was so unfair to her when I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”
The beeping of the washer, signalling that the load of the laundry is done, startles the two of you. You both chuckle briefly before you get up, grabbing a few tissues from the box on the desk before setting it on the coffee table in front of him. After changing the machine’s settings to dry, you turn to him.
“Are you…hungry or anything?”
He blows his nose and nods sheepishly. “I kinda just…got in a taxi at the airport and came right here.”
Your heart melts a little and you open the fridge. “I need to use some eggs. Do you like eggs?”
“Let’s make omelettes…” He strides into the kitchen easily, thanks to those long legs, and disposes of his pile of tissues, washing his hands. “What vegetables do you have?”
You pull out some tomatoes, kale and an onion. “Cheese? I’ve got cheddar, feta, parm…”
“Feta” He nods and fishes around for a bowl, fully breaking the cracked eggs into it before whisking them.
You find the cutting board and a knife, slicing the onion. Your hands are still shaking a little and your grip on the onion is not quite what it should be. It rolls suddenly and you hiss as the edge of the knife sinks into the side of your finger. In a blur of movement, your hand is suddenly cupped in his as he’s inspecting your cut with concern on his features.
You can feel the callouses on his fingertips…he’s still playing guitar…the heat from his hand is soaking into your skin, the scent of him wrapping around you…drawing you in. You tense and pull back quickly, stumbling into the counter behind you.
“Don’t!” You exclaim and you can see the word has physically slapped him across the face. Fresh tears are collecting in his eyes, and you shake your head quickly. “Not…not, not…ever again just…” You take a deep breath to collect your thoughts. “I can’t think straight when you’re touching me.” The statement makes him swallow thickly, heat colouring your cheeks.
“Passion has never been our problem…I want to talk to you today…get to know you more, not just your body….”
His eyes look up to yours, unsure. You nod softly. “I’m not saying no…just not right now?” Your hands itch to reach out and cup his cheeks reassuringly…to immediately invalidate your request. You had to be strong, or else you’d both end up right back in hell. “I’m sorry I startled you.” You add gently before grabbing a tissue to staunch the bleeding from your cut, passing him another one for his eyes, before you bandage your finger in the bathroom.
When you step back into the kitchen, all the prep is done and he’s heating the pan on the stovetop.
“I will admit I’ve never successfully made an omelette; they always fall apart and end up as fancy scrambled eggs.” You murmur.
You’re rewarded with a crooked grin before he talks you through the process, adding his own tips. Who knew eggs could be so fascinating. You watch him work, riveted, until he’s warning you that you need plates. You quickly grab two, holding one out to receive the first omelette. You stash it in the microwave to keep it warm as he repeats the process with the remaining ingredients.
“Do you like cooking?” You ask, genuinely curious as he seems very comfortable in the kitchen.
“When I have time? Yes…” He smirks ruefully and returns the favour. “How about you?”
“When I have the energy.” You reply with a nod, receiving the second omelette on the other plate and setting them at the small dining table with glasses of water for each of you.
The two of you sit down to your simple meal, volleying questions back and forth. As you continue to learn about each other, you only yearn to know more and more. You don’t realize how much time has passed until the room is so dim that you get up to turn on a light. The clothes are long dried, the food long eaten, but you still haven’t run out of topics. Three months of conversations compressed into one afternoon.
“How long are you here?” He asks as you sit back down with a pitcher of water.
His hair has dried into an unruly mop of curls that are begging to be played with. You keep your hands busy by refilling your water glasses.
“Until September…I haven’t started looking for another project yet...I might need a break.” You admit. “And you’re starting…Dune?”
He nods as he takes a sip. “I’m headed to Budapest first. Abu Dhabi, and Jordan after that.”
“Are you…staying in Germany for bit?” You try to ask casually but your voice is definitely full of hope.
“I would like to see you again before I go. If I can? I will find a hotel. What is your schedule?” He smiles cautiously after the words rush out of him.
The fact that this man can still make you blush is remarkable. “I am off again tomorrow before night shifts the rest of the week.” You pause before nodding. “I would like to see you again, too. Let me give you my number.” You make a bit of a show of pulling out your phone, earning a laugh as you do what should have been done so many months ago. You even send him a text to prove that you are once again connected to each another.
- You found me -
He smiles softly as he reads the message, but you blink as you suddenly realize you don’t know how he did it.
“How did you…” You begin to ask and he’s replying before you even finish your question.
“Taylor. They friended me on Instagram back in 2020, during lockdown. I was finally cleaning up my DMs when I saw a message from them. All I saw was your name. By the time I replied, you had moved from London to Germany, but I would never have found you without their help.”
“That meddlesome little…” You laugh fondly. You definitely would be sending them a thank you gift of epic proportions.
The dryer beeps yet another reminder that it has finished its job and you jump as it is honestly the first time you’ve heard it. Getting up, you pull the clothes out of the dryer, folding yours into a pile on top of the machine, putting his in the basket. He takes it from you gratefully, having followed you over, and dresses in the bathroom before stepping back into the living room. You catch the fatigue on his face in that moment, when he thinks you’re not looking, and you remain standing.
“Would you mind if we called it a night, I’m pretty tired.” You use yourself as the excuse and he nods with a gentle smile.
It turns to a grimace as he slides his feet back into his wet shoes and you press your lips together to hold back the laugh in your throat.
“Well I...I will see you tomorrow.” He smiles, scratching the back of his neck and turns to unlock the door.
You hesitate a moment, biting your lip in thought, before speaking up.
“I’m going to hug you goodnight. If that’s ok?” You tack on at the end, confidence still a bit rocky.
He turns back to you, holding his arms open in invitation and you step into them, wrapping your arms around his waist. You press into him as he hugs you so tight you feel like all your broken pieces might fit back together, eventually.
You look up to him and smile tearfully.
“Thank you.” You don’t expound on what for…it’s truly for everything.
“Thank you.” He counters and slowly releases you, obviously willing to play by any rule that allows you to be back in his life. “Sleep well.”
“You, too.” You say as you step back to watch him leave.
He’s not gone five minutes before your phone buzzes with a message from him. You smile warmly, drying your hands from the dishpan, before you lay on the couch and exchange a flurry of messages. He sends you links to a bunch of local attractions, asking you to weigh in, but your only intimation of what you’ll be doing together is when he asks if you are afraid of heights. You reply that you are not. Then you exchange goodnight messages.
The next morning, you spend far longer than usual choosing your outfit. Up to this point you’d only spent time with him in the dark of his trailer, sneaking about. It would be a real date, and someone somewhere would see a picture of you with him. Judgements would be made that would reflect on him. You grumble at yourself, trying to focus on dressing just for you and him. Your relationship was complicated enough - the rest of the world be damned.
You’re finally ready when your phone buzzes, he’s waiting downstairs in a car. You make a point of grabbing your umbrella as you rush out the door, hurrying down. You keep your head lowered as you walk over to the car, sliding in on the empty side. Once it’s pulling away you look to him, smiling warmly.
“Good morning.” You say, feeling slightly shy all of a sudden. It was like your relationship was running in reverse, from you with your head between his thighs, his cock buried in your throat, all the way back to the awkward first date.
“Morning” He smiles brightly and the warmth of his gaze soaks into your skin like the sun, easing your tension somewhat.
“So do I get any hints at all?” You ask, looking out the window trying to discern where you’re going.
His blue eyes sparkle with mischief as he shakes his head and all you can do is laugh. The buildings are getting more and more sparse until it’s nothing but farms and countryside.
You look back to him and raise an eyebrow. He gestures with his chin for you to look out your window again. Out in a field you see a splash of colour. You lean in for a better look as something begins to rise from the ground, vaguely spherical. You gasp as it clicks.
“A hot air balloon?!” Your voice squeaks a little. “How did you even…in one day?!”
His lips curl into a rather smug grin…it was the first smile you’d ever seen that actually looks like the cat that ate the canary.
“Devious…” You mutter in admiration. You automatically pull out your phone to take pictures but stop and look to him. “Are you ok if I take pictures?”
He nods and licks his lips, the urge to kiss you is making them hum. “Thank you for asking.”
You’re distracted by that tongue but manage a nod. You take a few photos as you get closer before the driver parks and you both climb out. You take another photo before following after Austin as he walks over to speak with the…pilot?
You swallow as he’s wearing a pair of jeans that love his ass as much as you do…Oh, and there’s a t-shirt too, but your attention was definitely on the first. The two of them are looking at you, so you speed up your pace, catching up. The pilot gives you a run down of what to expect, the safety rules, and then gets you each to sign a waiver. You step into the basket…it’s small, you’re close to both of them. You jump slightly at the woosh of flame, filling the balloon with hot air, and look to Austin.
“I’m going to hold your hand.” You reach out and his hand meets your, fingers lacing. Your cheeks flush from the contact, but the sensation of lifting off the ground pulls your attention away from the buzz of the skin-to-skin contact. You gasp as the ground falls away, the balloon pulling you higher and higher. You’re pressing tighter and tighter to him, hugging his arm by this point.
“You doing ok?” He leans down to softly speak into your ear, and you nod in reply.
“It’s incredible.” You take a few photos but mostly force yourself to drink in the scenery with your eyes. So much of what you saw came through the lens of something…it was important to view it as it really was. You see him picking up the camera that you now notice is hanging around his neck.
“Do you need your hand back?”
He nods sheepishly and you release his arm, sliding your fingers from his. You grip the side of the basket instead, just needing that bit of security as you’re very far from the ground now. The rivers below glisten with diamonds in the sunlight, the morning fog in the fields is slowly burning off as the day grows warmer. You hear the click of the shutter and turn to look at what he’s photographed…the mountains in the distance.
“This is amazing…” You breathe softly.
He lifts his camera, lens pointed at you. “May I?”
“Uh…yeah sure, if you want…Do you want me to…look at you or away?”
“Just do whatever you like.” He smiles encouragingly. Your lips echo his smile of their own accord…each of his smiles feel like a warm embrace…and you hear the shutter click. You laugh a little, not used to being the subject of photos. It turns into a gasp as a flock of birds take off from the field below, startled by another woosh of flame in the balloon.
They fly so close you feel like you could reach out and touch them. You twist and turn your head as they climb higher on a current of air before taking off into the distance, oblivious to the sounds of the shutter as he’s snapping away happily.
“Will you take one with me?” He asks, pulling your attention back to him. His camera is back hanging around his neck, his phone is in his hand. You nod softly and shuffle closer. He adjusts his height by bending his knees so the two of you are easily in the frame together. His long arm finds just the right angle and you smile warmly at where you think the camera is. “Thank you.” He squeezes your shoulder as he puts his phone away before he tenses and pulls his hand back.
“I’m sorry.” He apologizes softly.
Shaking your head quickly you reach up and take it, lacing your fingers together again. He relaxes and you see that you’ve crossed the river and are slowly descending to a nearby field. There’s a boat sitting at the end of a dock, and you wonder what that person is up to today…if they’re having as good a day as you are.
“Oh, good they’re here…” He murmurs and you turn to look at him with wide eyes.
“That boat is…for us?!” Your voice squeaking again, making him laugh richly.
“I hope so otherwise we’re swimming back. This balloon is a one-way trip.”
You shake your head, speechless. The landing is smooth, just one bump and you’re back on solid ground. You both thank the pilot profusely for the incredible experience before Austin takes your hand again, leading you over to the dock.
He greets the…captain? Apparently, you needed to brush up on the terminology for those who operated different modes of transportation. You look at the mid-sized boat curiously. It has a large deck in the back, with the pilot house on a level above. There are stairs leading down to a lower deck as well. He helps you step from the dock onto the gently undulating boat, taking you to sit on the plush seats in the bow.
“You are absolutely spoiling me, Austin Butler, you know that?” You ask as you take it all in.
“That was absolutely the plan.” He replies proudly. He looks down to your entwined hands, thumb stroking along the side of yours. You shiver a little, the sensation resonating throughout your whole being. But you don’t feel the need to pull back…you’re less afraid in the light of day, having had time to process…he’s really here, and he really still likes you.
You lean your shoulder against his a little as the…crew? They cast off the lines and the boat is underway, cutting through the water of the river smoothly. You still have no idea where you’re going, where you even are, but you are caring less and less as the two of you chat and take in the experience. After about an hour, one of the crew, you feel confident in that term now, come to tell you lunch is ready. You are startled and look to Austin, confused. That damn grin again.
He leads you to the back deck where there’s now a table laid with local food. There are several courses too, each with a different local wine pairing, including the best dessert you’ve ever eaten. You cannot help the noises of delight that you are making as you eat it.
You notice he’s not eating his dessert and look to his face to see him watching you intently, his blue eyes darker…you knew that look.
“Do…are you not enjoying your dessert?”
“Oh I am.” He replies, voice nearly an octave deeper than usual. Heat blooms in your stomach and you swallow thickly.
Taking your fork, you prep a bite from his plate and hold it out in offering to him. He glances at it, leaning forward to scrape it from the fork with his lips, eyes still locked on yours. Even though you’re in the open air, it is difficult to breathe. You lick your lips and repeat the process, offering him another bite, watching his mouth intently. The tension between you snaps as the footfalls of one of the crew sound on the stairs…someone is coming to clear the table. You sit back in your seat properly and take the last bite of your own before they clear it all away.
Austin stands and offers you his hand, leading you back to the bow where you sit shoulder to shoulder. Nearly three hours have passed since you boarded the boat when you’re approaching another large city. You look to him as it slows, nearing a dock.
“I thought we could just…walk around?” He asks.
You nod enthusiastically, the crew helping you disembark. You notice there are other people waiting with things to load onto the boat, but he pulls you away with that impossible grin on his lips again. As you walk along the river front there are shops, cafés, gorgeous historical buildings…You browse the stores, each buying little things that interest you, before stopping at a café. You both take photos of the stunning architecture, and you realize that the random modes of transportation have rather confounded the paparazzi…you haven’t noticed anyone overtly following you. Definitely random fans on the street who think they are more subtle than they are, but nothing professional, nothing aggressive.
The bell of the cathedral in the square strikes five o’clock and he looks to you, squeezing your hand.
“We should head back.”
You nod quickly and you make your way back to the pier where the crew welcome you warmly. There’s no obvious explanation for what they’ve been up to in your absence, and though you’re still very curious, you walk with Austin to the bow to begin the journey back to where you had started.
“Austin?” You look up to him.
“Hmm?” He looks down to you softly.
“This has probably been the best day of my life. Thank you.”
His cheeks colour noticeably…you’ve only ever seen them that shade when he is about to cum…you clear your throat in a warning to yourself, squeezing his hand. After an hour the crew-member is back, there’s dinner too?
“If you’re trying to win an award, you can ease up there…you’ve already accomplished best day of my life…” You tease him warmly and you sit down to another incredible meal.
After you’ve finished, you stand to stretch slowly, arms reaching to the sky. You turn back to him with a smile before your jaw drops in awe. The sky behind him is a riot of oranges, pinks, blues, and purples as the sun dramatically lights the smattering of clouds on its way down below the horizon. It’s like a work of art and he belongs right in the middle of it.
“Can I take your picture?” You ask, pulling out your phone.
He nods his ascent and stays exactly where he is, well practiced from the countless photoshoots. You take a few shots before coming back to sit with him, passing him the phone.
“Do you like any of them?” You asked.
“These are really nice..” He nods with a warm smile, passing the phone back to you before he kneels on the bench at the railing to take a few shots himself.
You sit on the bench beside him. Watching him, watching the sky. He uses up the last of his roll before turning to sit beside you properly.
“I’m going to give you a hug.” You state before slotting yourself into his arms, squeezing him tightly.
He chuckles a little. “You know, every time you say something like that, I think about that character played by Rachel Weisz in the Mummy…” His chin is resting on the top of your head and his voice thrums through you.
Your eyes light up in recognition. “I am a librarian, and I am going to kiss you!”
You feel him tense and pull back to sit up fully, eyes tracing the features of his face. They land on the tiny slash of silvery skin above his right eye. The scar he earned from filming concert scenes. Rather than striking you as an imperfection, it only enhances your impression that he is a work of art. You reach up to gently trace it with your fingertip. You swallow thickly as you see his eyes flick to your mouth. You are close…so close you can feel his breath hit your lips…mingle with your own.
“Can I kiss you…” You exhale in barely a whisper, and you are momentarily transported back to the dimly lit trailer, fighting with the zipper on his costume.
His approach is markedly different this time, hands cupping your cheeks gently, as though you are made of fragile glass. He closes the distance between you with a painfully sweet slowness, your heart aching at his tenderness. Finally, finally, his lips meet yours in an open-mouthed kiss, tongue barely brushing against yours. Your synapses eventually manage to fire a message to your brain; he’s letting you set the pace. You slide your arms around his waist, hands splayed against his back as you press closer to him, tongue sliding along his.
His right hand shifts to cup the back of your head as he tilts slightly to the left, deepening the kiss, tongue twining with yours. You are somewhat mortified to you admit you purr at that. Rather than laugh at your expense, though, he echoes it with a similar noise. Your fingers curl slightly to grasp at his shirt as your body is flooded with oxytocin, your neurological reward system singing his praises. Finally.
A passing freighter blasts its horn, rudely reminding you that you are very much in public, and you pull back slightly, sighing softly. His eyes are watching you tenderly, lips kiss-stung and calling to you for more attention. You swallow roughly, deciding to be the adult here. The last thing he needed was pictures of him kissing someone new so close to a breakup.
“When do you leave?” You wince as the words leave your mouth - what a shitty topic you’ve picked.
“Tomorrow…” He replies with a sigh. “In the morning.”
Nodding, you gently try and tame a lock of his hair the wind has teased out of place.
“I’ve never been to Budapest…” You say thoughtfully and his eyes are roving your face with intensity.
“Will you come visit?” He nearly trips over the words in his haste to ask.
You nod quickly, fingers tracing along his cheek bone. “I’d love to.” His smile blasts you with the full force of the sun, swelling your heart to bursting.
You lean in to kiss him softly once more, his fingers flexing in your hair, holding you there until you hear footsteps on the deck. He pulls back, keeping the moment private, between the two of you.
“We will be docking in 20 minutes, Mr. Butler.” The member of the crew informs you both with a nod before stepping back to begin clearing the table.
You hug Austin again warmly before pulling back fully, entwining your fingers with his just out of sight of the traffic of the port. You thank each and every one of the crew members as they help you disembark for the last time, following Austin in the deepening twilight toward the same car from the morning. The drive back to your apartment passes in companionable silence, fingers laced together, your head resting on his shoulder.
As the car pulls up in front of your building, you look to him.
“Let me walk you up.” He lifts your hand to kiss the back of it before sliding out. You make your way up the same stairs as yesterday, feeling very different…time could change so much. You step into the apartment with him and his arms pull you close in a crushing embrace. “I’m going to miss you.” He confesses, voice shaking a little.
You wrap your arms around him tightly, as though you could squeeze the doubt right out of him.
“It’s not like last time.” You say reassuringly, looking up at him. “I assure you; I’m not going anywhere.” You reach up to cup his cheek. “I will be here…I will come see you…We will figure this out.” You pull his lips down to yours and he kisses you with the desperation of a man starved. It leaves you both breathless as he pulls back, eyes boring into yours, wet with fresh tears.
“Promise?” He asks softly.
“I swear it.” You nod firmly.
You seal your promise with one last kiss before he slowly pulls back…he has to go, has to pack, has to focus on his upcoming role.
“You won’t lose me again.” You say reassuringly, leaning on the door jamb, and he finally allows himself to let you out of his sight, heading down the stairs to the waiting car.
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Read Reunited (Part Five)
Bonus: GIF of Rachel Weisz's line from The Mummy (1999)
Credit - Myself because no GIF of the full line existed...