She averts her eyes , a rosy splotch blooming on a cheek as she turns away and sets her empty wine glass down on the counter . washing her hands as she blinks away , a small smile makes her seem . Extra something , she couldn't quite place it but it felt like a pang in her chest. An ache she didn't really know what to do with. " I should go. Thanks for din-" their eyes meet again. And she forgot who went to whom but it didn't matter moments later, her mouth met his and it just felt right to her.
He liked stability. He liked routine and boundaries and things that were constant. On the other side of the same damn coin, he didn’t like labels. He didn’t want to be pinned down and stuck. The ability to move, to be fluid, was as important to him as any weapon in his arsenal. So when he had invited her over there had been a line drawn - nothing serious just dinner and talking. It was really all he could handle, at least he thought. Dinner went on and he found himself laughing more than he had really expected. Buck had watched the wine take it’s hold and the red in her glass crept onto her face, which was...really an endearing look for her. He almost wished he had had more to feel something like that; he remembered what being tipsy was like. There were days when he really missed that warm fuzzy feeling in his head and stomach. He quickly cleaned up, left her to finish her glass but when he walked on back he realized that he didn’t want this to end so soon. Maybe he had been going alone for too long, or maybe it was her; the fact that he really didn’t have to explain himself. She just, understood. And that was, utterly priceless. There was a knot of worry in his gut though, it was tampering with the nice full feeling in his stomach. She probably was okay to leave, but he wanted to make sure. Somewhere along the line he laced his fingers with her, and not long before she spoke up to excuse herself... He hadn’t kissed anybody in for so long, it almost didn’t feel real. She still tasted like wine; the remnants of tannin on her lips. He gave into the sheer sensation of it, the warmth against his skin and the blanket of intimacy that only came from shared breath. Still holding onto her hand, he lightly pulled back and looked at her carefully. He half expected shock, revulsion, or even anger... Had he broken the unspoken barrier, or had it been her? He wasn’t sure anymore.“Look,” I’m sorry, “if you want to stay, for a few more hours you’re welcome to...” At least until she was a little more sober. “I’ve got more dessert in the fridge if you want and the couch is way more comfortable than it looks.”
