so: it's been a millenia since i've actually written anything, but i made an attempt to write more in october alongside inktober and this popped out. of course i think it's a great idea to come back to an otp that tasted so close yet so far in like the worst possible way, lol, but they'll always have a special place in my heart.

He blinks awake, fingers resting lightly on her hip grip just a fraction tighter. Most nights she is out like a log, blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon, but not tonight, it seems. She stirs awake, turning over so that she's facing him and she blinks awake. Is something wrong?

He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and she blinks at him in confusion. Nothing, he says. I just…

It is in moments like these where he can't help but wonder sometimes, just how she does it. How, with his cryptic words in these uncharacteristically inefficient moments, she knows what he means. He supposes that it has to do with years of partnership, years of going on missions together, but he has a feeling that it's much more than that. A soft look reaches her eyes, as she gently laces her fingers through his. It had been four—seven—nine months since he woke in that hospital with her and Lee exhaling (the latter much more dramatic) in relief, and it still feels surreal: in the past nine months he watched his cousin get married, watched his peers fall in love and also get married, watched himself (still watching) tiptoe around that thing they call love, and here he is, lying awake in the soft comforters of her bed, slightly anxious, but simply wondering.

It's okay, she says, teasing. You were never very good with words anyways.

He snorts, the corner of his mouth turning upward into a small smirk. You always say that.

Because it's true, she says, laughing softly. But that's alright, I've learned how to read you like a book after years of dealing with you.

He has a comeback at the tip of his tongue, but he pauses, and takes in the way she looks: long hair curling and framing her face, white moonlight glancing off her shoulders, and eyes crinkling at the corners in small, quiet happiness. And he can't help himself, as he leans forward and slants his mouth over hers, softly, gently, breath catching as he feels her smile and reach up to pull him a little closer.

I've always been more of an 'actions' person, anyways, he says, as he wraps his arm around her waist.

She laughs in agreement, tucking herself against his chest. He closes his eyes, listening to the quiet evening air, and the rhythm of her breathing, the feel of her arms around his waist and their bodies warm beneath the blankets, and falls asleep with a content smile on his face.

and: i might turn this into a drabble collection. we'll see!