That close she could measure the length of his lashes, the breadth of his shoulders. That close, she could take a few steps closer, nudge herself between his knees and perch on one of his thighs if she dared. She didn’t, but the instinct to move in close, to tuck herself tight against him and wind her arms around the whole of him was there and waiting to be acknowledged. She wouldn’t. Not yet, anyway.
He told her she shouldn’t worry, and she knew how strong he was, how capable, and yet she also knew that once upon a time someone had told her that he would die, that he would be tortured beyond her imaginings, and she’d believed them. The thought of a world emptied of him had been what they’d used to break her, once. Perhaps more than once. For all she feels those old lessons in the scars of her heart, she can’t stop herself from worrying over and wanting the same old things.
“I don’t think I can stop myself,” she said gently then, thinking on it for only a moment more, took another small step and bent, taking first his right hand in hers, then his left. The rough, warm texture of his right hand was in startling contrast to the smooth, cool metal that absorbed the warmth of her hand easily, but she found she didn’t mind it at all. She didn’t think she ever had. “Come sit with me on my couch,” she said, tugging gently at his hands. “Stay with me a while. Are you hungry?”
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Date: 2015-03-19 04:31 pm (UTC)He told her she shouldn’t worry, and she knew how strong he was, how capable, and yet she also knew that once upon a time someone had told her that he would die, that he would be tortured beyond her imaginings, and she’d believed them. The thought of a world emptied of him had been what they’d used to break her, once. Perhaps more than once. For all she feels those old lessons in the scars of her heart, she can’t stop herself from worrying over and wanting the same old things.
“I don’t think I can stop myself,” she said gently then, thinking on it for only a moment more, took another small step and bent, taking first his right hand in hers, then his left. The rough, warm texture of his right hand was in startling contrast to the smooth, cool metal that absorbed the warmth of her hand easily, but she found she didn’t mind it at all. She didn’t think she ever had. “Come sit with me on my couch,” she said, tugging gently at his hands. “Stay with me a while. Are you hungry?”