They were holding hands.

They were just walking along an alien esplanade, enjoying the scenery, casual, easy, and holding hands.

He loved the feel of her hand in his, so strong, so soft, so small for how capable they were.

She shifted her fingers and threaded hers through his. A little thrill went through him, a feeling of such rightness.

She wasn't even paying attention, just enjoying the sights of the locals playing a game on the beach, the sight and sound of the feathery alien palm trees. The way the world could be so alien, yet at the same time so normal.

The archeologist in her loved this sort of thing.

Their hands swung, and he let his hip bump hers as they strode along, she bumped him back, casually flirty, even when she wasn't thinking about it.

He grinned, raised her hand, and gently kissed the backs of her fingers.

She looked up, surprised. She smiled, her eyes deep and sparkling. "What was that for, Sweetie?"

He just shook his head and kissed her fingers again. "You've got pretty hands."

Her fingers tightened in his. Manicured fingertips, painted nails, well tended skin. But she was looking at his hands, all rawboned and pink knuckled and long awkward fingers.

"So do you." She pulled the back of his hand to her and laid her cheek against it, closing her eyes.

His hearts swelled and beat, her soft, warm cheek against his skin, her curly head bent over his hand. He gulped down a lump in his throat. And smiled a watery smile as she hummed and purred and rubbed her cheek against his hand like a cat.

She looked back up at him. Eyes smiling. And he wanted to freeze that instant, and frame it in his mind. Always to be remembered.

She dropped their hands and went back to studying the locals, content.

They walked along, hands swinging between them.

Holding hands.

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