so much for updating within two weeks whoops. anywho, just another little prompt fill that turned out better than i thought it would so yay me. on another note ive officially finished exams now so hopefully that'll mean more frequent updating if my inspiration ever decides to return - if not just keep bugging me about it cause that usually works for chloe, or you know, drop me a review, they're always helpful ;) x

holding hands

dedicated to chloe, because i like making her sob with fanfic nearly as much as she likes making me sob with her angsty ideas and endless stream of emily pics.

At first, on the rare occasion they found themselves palm to palm, fingers intertwined, it had been an act of support. Her reaching out to lay a hand on his arm as he recalled details of a child's birthday party, witnessed through the scope of his rifle; hands clutched tightly as they skated around an empty rink, his assurances – I'm never gonna make you fall, I'm always here – filling the space, his hands reaching out to support her each time she so much as panicked.

Letting go became a little bit more difficult each time it happened, as their partnership blossomed into a friendship and into something that they both failed to acknowledge – that is, until the facade crumbled, because she was a scientist who didn't know how to change and he was a gambler who failed to play every card.

They hold hands in an airport six weeks later, making promises they may not be able to keep because she is going to a jungle and he is going to a war zone. This time, it is more than support – it is a goodbye, it is an apology, it is fear, and it is words they're both too afraid to say.

It is a long time before they hold hands again.

The next time is a trigger – the day of the blackout, as they're sitting in the candle light even after light has been restored, after conversations and confessions, when it is decided it is no longer if it – the two of them – will happen, but when. It is after wishes have been burnt and released to the universe and it is just them, joking and bickering and sharing popcorn, brushing hands until there is no more to eat and they're holding hands to reassure themselves that they're here, together.

They find themselves in similar moments over the following weeks, after paperwork has been pushed aside in favour of eating takeout in front of the TV. They inevitably bicker over who gets to pick what they watch, and it is usually the winner that takes the others hands, squeezing and offering a small smile as they settle side by side on the couch.

It it fitting that when they finally cross the final line, together in his bed after a day of physical and emotional turmoil, they're holding hands – it is everything: support, comfort, fear, and words they're finally ready to say and hear.

Afterwards, it is no longer possible to keep track.

There are the small everyday moments – clasped hands in the early morning light, feeling the first tentative movements of the baby they had made beneath their fingers – and there are the moments that will stay with them both for their thirty, or forty, or fifty years – her almost breaking his fingers as she delivered their daughter and their intertwined fingers on the tiny baby's back just moments after she takes her first breath.

It becomes normal, an act of support, of comfort, of reassurance, of love; but holding hands for the first time after they have gotten married, rings still warming against their skin – it no longer needs a reason, an explanation, they hold hands just because.