A Breath Of Comfort
Title: A Breath of Comfort
Pairings: Multi-fandom - Bella/Edward, Logan/Veronica, Booth/Brennan, Harry/Hermione, and Buffy/Angel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,702
Summary: Five couples scattered across the globe, all who have one thing in common - the inexpressible comfort and safety they feel when they are with each other.
A/N: Just a little bit of Christmas fluff.
"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away."
--George Elliot
The Christmas Eve snow falls steadily on the small town of Forks, Washington, where Bella Swan and Edward Cullen sit in front of a Christmas tree twinkling with bright and shining lights. Bella holds a cup of warm hot chocolate between thawing fingers and smiles as the sound of laughter reaches her ears from Edward's siblings, who are still engaging in their playful snowball fight in front of the house.
Edward has his arm wrapped around her shoulders and she sighs as he places tender kisses against her temple. She closes her eyes and her heart skips a beat as his fingers run through her hair, every so often brushing against her neck. Her cup slips precariously through her fingers in her distraction.
She feels Edward's cold fingers gently pry the mug from her hand and hears a quiet tap as it is placed on the table in front of them.
"I wouldn't have dropped it," she mumbles petulantly, eyes still closed. She isn't angry, though - she can't make herself feel anything but happy.
Edward chuckles. When her eyes open, she is rewarded with the sight of his golden eyes staring back at her, lips turned up into a gentle smile. He leans down to kiss her, and Bella closes her eyes again with a sigh, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Her lips move slowly, languidly against his; for once, she is in no rush for this to go any further.
Still, Edward is the first to pull away, and she pouts, trying to pull her lips back to his.
Edward laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, Bella," he says, kisses the tip of her nose, then lies down on the couch, tucking her back tightly against his chest instead.
She holds his arms even tighter around her waist and is perfectly content to lie silently in his arms, watching the snow fall through the wall of windows in his living room.
***
Somewhat close by, in the town of Neptune, California, Veronica Mars stares out the window of her apartment wishing that it would snow. The Weather Channel has announced blizzard-like conditions for Washington state from Seattle down through a town called Forks - what kind of a name is Forks for a town anyway, and why should they get all of the good Christmas weather? Neptune is a balmy seventy-eight degrees, and while the sky is clear, the afternoon sun shining bright, there isn't a flurry in sight.
"You look like someone kicked your dog," says a voice from behind her, and she turns her head, startled, to see Logan Echolls standing in the doorway to her kitchen.
"Backup would tear the leg off of anyone who tried," Veronica says as a warning, then jumps down off the chair she was sitting on to stand directly in front of him, arms crossed. "What are you doing here, Logan?"
"Was just passing through. Thought I'd stop by and say hi." There's a look in his eye, one that tells her there's more to what he's saying than the actual words. It's Christmas Eve, and you're all I have, is what he's actually saying, but of course, Logan would never actually say those words to her. Not unless he was drunk.
"You're in luck then," she tells him after a brief moment of awkward silence. "I was just about to make dinner."
"Maybe I should go back to the car then," he says, turning towards the door with his signature cheeky grin.
She rolls her eyes and slaps his arm. "Shut up," and she can't help but smile in return.
If, while during dinner, Logan's hand happens to slip under the table and rest against her thigh, it's only natural for Veronica to slide her fingers against his and squeeze.
***
Across the country, in a lab in Washington DC, Temperance Brennan is wishing she were in warmer climates. Like Peru. Or California - she'd heard on the news that Neptune was having a warm spell. But here, the snow is falling, and the air is frigid, and somehow, the main line of heat to the Jeffersonian has been broken - she is sure that Zack and Hodgins and their latest experiment are to blame.
Brennan shivers and wraps her lab coat tighter around her, examining the tibia of the latest in the line of a serial killer's murder victims. All in the name of science…
"Bones, what are you - Jesus, it's freezing in here!" The sound of heavy footsteps and this exclamation herald Seeley Booth's arrival, and Brennan focuses her attention on the hairline fracture to the fibula.
"The heating has been broken since this morning," she says, never once looking up from her work.
"Then why are you still here?" Booth asks incredulously, leaning both hands on the table.
She pushes his hands off and he rolls his eyes. "Because we still haven't figured out the murder weapon." She points to the sternum. "This pattern on the sternum suggests that-"
"The killer used something out of the ordinary and it killed the victim, right?" He comes over to the other side of the table. "Good, mystery solved. Now, come on. You're coming to Sid's with me for dinner."
"What? No, I have work to do," she says, fighting as he pushes her towards the stairs. "I still have to-"
Booth has gotten her halfway down the stairs and moves directly in front of her. "Temperance," Brennan stills - she can't remember the last time he called her by her given name. "It's Christmas Eve. Everyone else has gone home to be with their loved ones or to move on to warmer climates." She smiles in spite of herself. "Just this once, forget about the freezing cold lab and the bones. They're not going anywhere. But you should be."
Brennan stares at him for a moment, and tries to ignore the way the look in his eyes feels like it pierces her down to the core. Something strange clenches in her stomach, some feeling she's not quite sure she has a name for, and instead of turning back around like she means to, she pulls off her gloves and says, "I'll get my coat."
***
Halfway around the world, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger stand in a quiet cemetery in Godric's Hollow. The wind blows the snow softly around them, and Hermione raises a hand to brush the flurries from her face. If this was any other Christmas Eve, their other best friend would be here with them, but Ron Weasley is stuck in Washington DC on Auror duty through the New Year.
Harry sighs, and Hermione instantly diverts her attention back to her friend, who needs her more than anyone else in the world right now. She places a hand on his shoulder and he glances at her, giving her a sad smile, before kneeling down to place a wreath of newly conjured Christmas roses on his parents' grave.
"Happy Christmas," he whispers, and Hermione notices the tears in his eyes that he quickly wipes away with the back of his hand. He bows his head down and sniffs once before standing up and turning to face her.
"Are you all right?" She asks, her fingers instantly slipping between his.
Harry nods. "Fine," he says quietly. He takes a deep breath of the cold air, then gives her a smile, the first true smile she's seen on his face all night. Then, he startles her by leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.
"What was that for?" she asks. Her cheek burns where his lips touched her skin.
He shrugs. "For being here. For being you." He laughs at the stunned look that is stuck on her face. "Come on. Let's get to Hogsmeade. Professor McGonagall said there's someone at the Christmas Feast tonight that she wants us to meet." Hermione's stomach flutters wildly as he wraps his arms tightly around her waist and they Apparate away.
***
Not far from the two wizards, in a large house in Scotland, Buffy Summers sits in front of the television and sighs. It's A Wonderful Life usually makes her cry and laugh in all the appropriate places, but tonight, she feels too dejected to pay any attention to Frank Capra's masterpiece. There is no snow here, for the first time in days - ironic that Christmas Eve should be the first time there's no snow falling to the ground.
Giles has gone off to some place called Hogwarts to visit with a friend of his - someone named Minerva, she thinks with a frown - and Willow is off with Kennedy doing God only knows what, and Xander is decorating the Christmas tree with Dawn, and she is sitting here alone, with George Bailey and a pint of ice cream.
How sad am I? She thinks, shoving another spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough into her mouth.
The sound of the doorbell yanks her out of her reverie and she sighs as she sets her spoon down on the coffee table, then slowly moves down the long hallway to the front of the house. She throws the door open wide.
Buffy freezes and her entire world shifts at the sight of the face in her doorway.
"Merry Christmas," Angel says. There's a bouquet of red roses in his hand and a smile on his face. The snow has started to fall again, and her eyes fill with tears as she throws herself into his arms.
Her lips meet his seconds later, and he can't help but laugh against her mouth.
"What?" She asks as she pulls away just a fraction. She wrinkles her nose. "Do I smell funny?"
"No." Angel's lips quirk into a smile. "But you taste like... cookie dough."
Buffy stares at him for a single moment before a grin bursts across her face.
Pairings: Multi-fandom - Bella/Edward, Logan/Veronica, Booth/Brennan, Harry/Hermione, and Buffy/Angel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,702
Summary: Five couples scattered across the globe, all who have one thing in common - the inexpressible comfort and safety they feel when they are with each other.
A/N: Just a little bit of Christmas fluff.
"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away."
--George Elliot
The Christmas Eve snow falls steadily on the small town of Forks, Washington, where Bella Swan and Edward Cullen sit in front of a Christmas tree twinkling with bright and shining lights. Bella holds a cup of warm hot chocolate between thawing fingers and smiles as the sound of laughter reaches her ears from Edward's siblings, who are still engaging in their playful snowball fight in front of the house.
Edward has his arm wrapped around her shoulders and she sighs as he places tender kisses against her temple. She closes her eyes and her heart skips a beat as his fingers run through her hair, every so often brushing against her neck. Her cup slips precariously through her fingers in her distraction.
She feels Edward's cold fingers gently pry the mug from her hand and hears a quiet tap as it is placed on the table in front of them.
"I wouldn't have dropped it," she mumbles petulantly, eyes still closed. She isn't angry, though - she can't make herself feel anything but happy.
Edward chuckles. When her eyes open, she is rewarded with the sight of his golden eyes staring back at her, lips turned up into a gentle smile. He leans down to kiss her, and Bella closes her eyes again with a sigh, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Her lips move slowly, languidly against his; for once, she is in no rush for this to go any further.
Still, Edward is the first to pull away, and she pouts, trying to pull her lips back to his.
Edward laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, Bella," he says, kisses the tip of her nose, then lies down on the couch, tucking her back tightly against his chest instead.
She holds his arms even tighter around her waist and is perfectly content to lie silently in his arms, watching the snow fall through the wall of windows in his living room.
***
Somewhat close by, in the town of Neptune, California, Veronica Mars stares out the window of her apartment wishing that it would snow. The Weather Channel has announced blizzard-like conditions for Washington state from Seattle down through a town called Forks - what kind of a name is Forks for a town anyway, and why should they get all of the good Christmas weather? Neptune is a balmy seventy-eight degrees, and while the sky is clear, the afternoon sun shining bright, there isn't a flurry in sight.
"You look like someone kicked your dog," says a voice from behind her, and she turns her head, startled, to see Logan Echolls standing in the doorway to her kitchen.
"Backup would tear the leg off of anyone who tried," Veronica says as a warning, then jumps down off the chair she was sitting on to stand directly in front of him, arms crossed. "What are you doing here, Logan?"
"Was just passing through. Thought I'd stop by and say hi." There's a look in his eye, one that tells her there's more to what he's saying than the actual words. It's Christmas Eve, and you're all I have, is what he's actually saying, but of course, Logan would never actually say those words to her. Not unless he was drunk.
"You're in luck then," she tells him after a brief moment of awkward silence. "I was just about to make dinner."
"Maybe I should go back to the car then," he says, turning towards the door with his signature cheeky grin.
She rolls her eyes and slaps his arm. "Shut up," and she can't help but smile in return.
If, while during dinner, Logan's hand happens to slip under the table and rest against her thigh, it's only natural for Veronica to slide her fingers against his and squeeze.
***
Across the country, in a lab in Washington DC, Temperance Brennan is wishing she were in warmer climates. Like Peru. Or California - she'd heard on the news that Neptune was having a warm spell. But here, the snow is falling, and the air is frigid, and somehow, the main line of heat to the Jeffersonian has been broken - she is sure that Zack and Hodgins and their latest experiment are to blame.
Brennan shivers and wraps her lab coat tighter around her, examining the tibia of the latest in the line of a serial killer's murder victims. All in the name of science…
"Bones, what are you - Jesus, it's freezing in here!" The sound of heavy footsteps and this exclamation herald Seeley Booth's arrival, and Brennan focuses her attention on the hairline fracture to the fibula.
"The heating has been broken since this morning," she says, never once looking up from her work.
"Then why are you still here?" Booth asks incredulously, leaning both hands on the table.
She pushes his hands off and he rolls his eyes. "Because we still haven't figured out the murder weapon." She points to the sternum. "This pattern on the sternum suggests that-"
"The killer used something out of the ordinary and it killed the victim, right?" He comes over to the other side of the table. "Good, mystery solved. Now, come on. You're coming to Sid's with me for dinner."
"What? No, I have work to do," she says, fighting as he pushes her towards the stairs. "I still have to-"
Booth has gotten her halfway down the stairs and moves directly in front of her. "Temperance," Brennan stills - she can't remember the last time he called her by her given name. "It's Christmas Eve. Everyone else has gone home to be with their loved ones or to move on to warmer climates." She smiles in spite of herself. "Just this once, forget about the freezing cold lab and the bones. They're not going anywhere. But you should be."
Brennan stares at him for a moment, and tries to ignore the way the look in his eyes feels like it pierces her down to the core. Something strange clenches in her stomach, some feeling she's not quite sure she has a name for, and instead of turning back around like she means to, she pulls off her gloves and says, "I'll get my coat."
***
Halfway around the world, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger stand in a quiet cemetery in Godric's Hollow. The wind blows the snow softly around them, and Hermione raises a hand to brush the flurries from her face. If this was any other Christmas Eve, their other best friend would be here with them, but Ron Weasley is stuck in Washington DC on Auror duty through the New Year.
Harry sighs, and Hermione instantly diverts her attention back to her friend, who needs her more than anyone else in the world right now. She places a hand on his shoulder and he glances at her, giving her a sad smile, before kneeling down to place a wreath of newly conjured Christmas roses on his parents' grave.
"Happy Christmas," he whispers, and Hermione notices the tears in his eyes that he quickly wipes away with the back of his hand. He bows his head down and sniffs once before standing up and turning to face her.
"Are you all right?" She asks, her fingers instantly slipping between his.
Harry nods. "Fine," he says quietly. He takes a deep breath of the cold air, then gives her a smile, the first true smile she's seen on his face all night. Then, he startles her by leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.
"What was that for?" she asks. Her cheek burns where his lips touched her skin.
He shrugs. "For being here. For being you." He laughs at the stunned look that is stuck on her face. "Come on. Let's get to Hogsmeade. Professor McGonagall said there's someone at the Christmas Feast tonight that she wants us to meet." Hermione's stomach flutters wildly as he wraps his arms tightly around her waist and they Apparate away.
***
Not far from the two wizards, in a large house in Scotland, Buffy Summers sits in front of the television and sighs. It's A Wonderful Life usually makes her cry and laugh in all the appropriate places, but tonight, she feels too dejected to pay any attention to Frank Capra's masterpiece. There is no snow here, for the first time in days - ironic that Christmas Eve should be the first time there's no snow falling to the ground.
Giles has gone off to some place called Hogwarts to visit with a friend of his - someone named Minerva, she thinks with a frown - and Willow is off with Kennedy doing God only knows what, and Xander is decorating the Christmas tree with Dawn, and she is sitting here alone, with George Bailey and a pint of ice cream.
How sad am I? She thinks, shoving another spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough into her mouth.
The sound of the doorbell yanks her out of her reverie and she sighs as she sets her spoon down on the coffee table, then slowly moves down the long hallway to the front of the house. She throws the door open wide.
Buffy freezes and her entire world shifts at the sight of the face in her doorway.
"Merry Christmas," Angel says. There's a bouquet of red roses in his hand and a smile on his face. The snow has started to fall again, and her eyes fill with tears as she throws herself into his arms.
Her lips meet his seconds later, and he can't help but laugh against her mouth.
"What?" She asks as she pulls away just a fraction. She wrinkles her nose. "Do I smell funny?"
"No." Angel's lips quirk into a smile. "But you taste like... cookie dough."
Buffy stares at him for a single moment before a grin bursts across her face.