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[ KISS DAY THINGS! ]@wcrkshopp
Sometimes, he stares at her. For no reason. Watches her with undivided attention, without saying a single word. The intensity of his gaze always comes with a prickling sensation on the back of her neck that often roots her to her place. Angel doesn’t have it in her to turn around and face him, much less ask him why he does it. She wonders what sort of look he has in his eyes, but does not want to be sure.
Sometimes, he’ll touch her out of the blue. Her shoulder. The small of her back. Sometimes he’ll seek skin. Take her hand in his, brush his fingers against her cheek. He’ll stare at the point of contact with something she can’t quite decipher in the icy blue of his eyes. If she had to give it a name, she’d probably call it frustration.
She’s grown used to the nuances of his tempers, knows how to navigate them to a certain degree. But she has no idea as to how he views her. He’s the one who personally broke her open, saved her life and gave her these abilities but at a cost she couldn’t begin to imagine. He’s shaped her into something she doesn’t recognize, a tool and a weapon that is better off unthinking and unfeeling. Ajax gives her orders and she obeys them to the letter.
But sometimes, he’ll ask for her thoughts, her advice, and he’ll listen. Sometimes, he’ll speak to her so softly, so kindly, that it drowns out the screams for a split second. Sometimes he’ll call the name he’s given her with such gentleness and affection that she’ll forget what it refers to.
For all she knows, it could all be a ruse. It most likely is. Mere manipulation to keep her nice and obedient. If she grows to care for him, she’ll want to protect him for more than just her own survival. Maybe all he sees her as is his favorite toy. Angel is always hyper aware of all these very plausible possibilities.
But when his lips find hers and he kisses her with an all encompassing hunger that can’t be faked, all those paranoid thoughts of self-preservation fall away from importance as she realizes she’s not strong enough to deny herself this sliver of connection and comfort when she’s been starved of it for so long. Angel has always known that hope is more poison than balm, and that is exactly what his kiss tastes like. Sweet and intoxicating.
