What a coincidence, Robin! Rachel loves being obeyed in all instances, but she'll take what she can get. Most instances is rather pleasing, and truth be told, she does love a bit of a challenge. She smiles brightly--and enticingly, she hopes--once his eyes open.
"No, it is rather necessary."
Note she is not being contrary merely for the sake of it. This is a woman on a mission. "Haven't you ever heard the saying, the early bird gets the worm?"
She laughs softly and lets herself be pulled, falling on top of him with a small, surprised noise. She melts into the kisses, and it's very easy to pretend it isn't so early in the morning. The thick drapes are closed, the sheets are inviting, and he is the most inviting of all.
Her arms slide around his neck as she kisses him back momentarily. She's about to stand up again when her neck is tended to.
"Robin," Rachel says warningly, hands still flattened on either side of him to push herself up. She'll be pushing herself up any moment now. Really.
...It is a very comfortable bed, but she's trying to be firm here.
One should note the sleepy quality to his voice. He is also being contrary merely for the sake of it. Robin Rice very rarely stays in bed when he could be up and about. In fact, the only thing that generally keeps him in bed is the desire to spend a few more minutes or hours with her there in it. "No, I've absolutely never heard that saying."
Wince. He can lie when it's obvious that they both know that he is lying. Yes, the contrary to be contrary is easy to pull off, and it is much easier to continue his insisting that they stay in bed when she laughs like that.
His mouth follows the length of her neck, rather pleased that she is still here in bed with him as opposed to finishing getting dressed. It is only when she says his name in that tone that he pulls back to have a proper look at her.
"Rachel," he says and then sends her a brilliant smile that show off all of his teeth. They are rather nice, straight teeth despite what stereotypes about British people would lead one to believe.
Robin slides a hand around her waist to pull her in against him. The hand slides up her waist across her back, and his gaze remains on her face. "What is it?"
"I'd say so," Rachel answers lightly, and we all know Rachel Dawes is the do as I say, and as I do sort.
There's a twinge of guilt at waking him up when she registers the sound of his voice. He looks handsome all the time, but there's something especially appealing about him when he's just woken up, something artless and beguiling and peaceful. Note, the twinge of guilt goes away at his blatant lie, but it was there.
The smile on her face widens, arms still locked around his neck when she speaks again. "Liar," she whispers without any sort of malice to it, lips pressing against his forehead, against the creases on it as he winces.
She can't really get on his case about this. They are on a rare, rare vacation, and both of them work themselves ragged on any given day. She likes that he can be like this, even if it's only for a few days.
Rachel's brow lifts once he's pulled back. She fights off a smile, loses at the sound of her name and his own smile, and plops back on top of him. She doesn't fight off his hands. This is probably why they have been late every day since they arrived.
Then again, there's still time.
Robin's teeth are very, very nice. Rachel presses a lingering kiss to his mouth and pulls back herself.
"You know what," she says to him matter-of-factly, finger poking him lightly at the waist. "I will give you a couple of more hours but honestly, Robin, we have to be outside the door by noon."
Yes, we do all know that Rachel is that sort, and we love her for it and wouldn't want her another way.
Robin believes that he is especially appealing at all times. Cough. Robin do not ruin the romantic sentiment behind the sentences over there. He stretches and keeps her close and admires her in the very early sunlight that filters through the window.
"Mmm," he says when she presses her lips against his forehead, and his arm remains around her waist holding her close. "Guilty as charged."
It's true. It is rare that either of them sleep in late. It is much rarer for either of them to be late to any of their many obligations in the city. Here, they only need to go somewhere if they chose. Here, if they're late, it's much less important.
They have a week together for themselves, a week where if they wanted to, they would never have to leave their hotel room.
It's all about want, not responsibility or what's right or work. As much as he loves and needs work in his life, he needs this too. It's nothing that he would have needed before he found her, before he understood that life is to be lived and there's beauty in the living of it.
Part of living means taking a break from that work to enjoy what life has given you.
Like her. Rachel is absolutely gorgeous. He watches her fight off that smile and watches her lose the battle. Sun filters over her hair and her face. Robin reaches out, slips his thumb across her smile, and then kisses it instead.
"I do know what," he agrees, reaching for her hand at his waist, and he slips his hands around her waist and then pulls her on top of himself because he likes the way her body feels against his, the knowledge that she is there and the feeling of it. "A couple more hours, you say? Rather generous of you, Rachel. Honestly."
And then Robin smiles, leaning up to pay more attention to her neck and then her lips again. His hands slide down her half-clothed body from her ribs down her abdomen and waist and lower still.
"I wonder what we could do with two whole hours..."
"Shameless about it, too," Rachel comments teasingly, lips shifting into a smile against his temple. Rachel would not be surprised at all to find Robin has turned a romantic sentiment into something hobbagish. It is in his nature. And it isn't untrue, but then, his ego doesn't need more ammunition when it comes to those things.
There is always so much work that needs to be done. Chicago takes so much work and it drains you from so much energy. There is always one responsibility to cater to or another. They live outside the Kashtta but so much of their time is spent inside it, into the ridiculous hours of the morning.
Rachel can be found at her desk well past midnight, nearly headdesking into the paperwork no matter how much coffee has been consumed. It's something she's keenly familiar with. Pacing back and forth to wake herself up and keep working, whether it's an office in a Tower in Chicago or the DA's office in Gotham.
It's a curious thing, how they're both so work-oriented and yet they remind each other to slow down, to sleep a little more than they're used to, eat when they've forgotten to do so on their own.
She left paperwork and her laptop behind. It's back in their apartment, and she didn't bring work with her to their trip. It's strictly about them and enjoying each other. There is nothing else that she wants to be doing in this moment in time.
A noise is muffled into his lips once she's settled on top of him, and her body instinctively molds itself to his own. She's lost count as to how many times they've been like this. It never loses its intensity, whether they're being light or otherwise.
"I'm nothing if not generous," Rachel says, voice thick with her amusement.
Her teeth softly tease at the skin of his earlobe, hands losing themselves underneath the sheets that cover him.
"I'm amused you still pretend your mind hasn't been made up," Rachel says with that smile in place, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leaning back down to kiss him. The amusement quickly fades away and is replaced by wanting.
It's familiar, and she can't remember a time when she didn't feel this way.
God, kids. You couldn't wait until we were further comments in to have sex already.
"Why yes," Robin says at her teasing, keeping her against him because that's the way that he likes it. He says his ego never hurts from a few reminders or more than a few. Ahem.
Chicago takes so much from everyone that lives in it, even if they aren't wrapped up in it like the two of them are, even if they try to hide from the city. It is draining. Everyone needs a break from it at times or they will drown in it.
He is often there at all times of the morning and evening with her, determined only to go home when she does so they can walk together in the morning and the evening. There is enough to do simply trying to make sure the tower functions as it should, keeping the shelves stocked, checking people in, making sure everything is running properly.
Robin wouldn't have it any other way. To be honest, he cannot function in any other way. It's always been how he's managed the calling. If he didn't have it, he would have fallen a long time ago.
"Yes, I am well aware of how incredibly generous you are, Rachel," Robin says against her skin, sliding his mouth along bare, warm skin.
His hands slide back behind her waist.
"I do enjoy amusing you," he says and smiles too but that is also quickly lost in the kiss. The intensity of it, the warmth, the endless pull of her that's always calling.
Always.
So sex happens only seven comments in. Cough. And it's a melding of bodies together in the morning hour with light shining in to illuminate it all.
An hour and thirty minutes later, Robin is finally climbing out of their bed together. He does enjoy experiencing the city with her, and he would like more of that as well.
"You've had your near two hours. I'll get ready quickly," he promises, leaning in to kiss her again on the cheek this time so they don't start getting... frisky again.
Robin heads to the closet to change into proper attire for the day, looking back at her and sending her a smile as he does so. It's hard to keep the smile from his face.
It's because he will wait for her until she is finished that she doesn't stay up until ungodly hours of the morning to do what she could do the next day. It's a reminder like many others. To slow down sometimes, to catch your breath, to go home and lie in bed next to the person you love most and the person that loves you.
Otherwise you'd drown in the office the same way someone can drown in water or at the end of a gun's barrel.
She admitted it to him on a day similar like this one but not quite as peaceful.
I'm tired, Robin. I'm so tired.
And she was. Rachel has never lost perspective, but she'd lost hope that the system she'd worked so hard for was the same system she was now working against.
Because it wasn't impartial. Because it didn't give you justice. Because it didn't change anything when the time came that it mattered most.
The hope and the beliefs that make up much of who she is were held together by a thin thread, and allowing herself ot admit it and to tell him was also so she could remember why it's okay to be tired. Why it's okay to need a break from a city you're fighting hard to save.
Chicago has become what Gotham was to her. She fights for it everyday, and yet it hasn't been so far from her thoughts the way it is now. The last thing on her mind is the paperwork that will be waiting for her when she gets back.
"You do more than amuse me," she whispers, fingers digging into his nape. His cold send shivers across her spine, and they once felt cold against her skin and now she doesn't notice. They're just hands, his, beautiful.
At least it didn't happen in the fifth comment like last time. Or fourth. The narration will have to read the typewriter thread again to be able to discern accurately.
Whereas she'd been half-clothed before she toppled over him and let herself become tangled up inside him, she is now clotheless again and a little more resistant to getting out of bed.
Thanks, Robin.
"You have thirty minutes," she says in singsong, knowing fully well if she aimed for a kiss on the lips it would not just remain a kiss. She watches him get up from the bed, feeling lazier than she'd been feeling only an hour or so ago.
She frowns when she looks around the bed and does not find the dress she'd been zipping up before she thought to wake him up. Lifting the sheets up to cover her chest, Rachel stands along with him and starts to look for the dress.
This is not the first time such a thing has occurred. Ahem.
"It's a surprise," Rachel emphasizes, lifting her head from where she looks for the dress to smile back at him. "You didn't get any hints back home and you're not getting any hints now."
It may be part of why he always does stay. That and he never wants to be walking home without her by his side. They have been through so much together. That much, at least, they deserve to have. The nights and mornings can be wholly, selfishly theirs while the days are filled with duties and responsibilities.
They don't let each other drown.
I'm tired.
It's something they've both admitted to each other. It's something that he sometimes feels in his very bones. It's something that he can feel in her at times, because they're connected.
Because after all that they have been through and all they have done, who wouldn't be tired?
They would have to be inhuman.
He doesn't want them to be inhuman because they lose the ability to love and the ability to have compassion. And then, what would be the point?
"Yes, I am quite aware of what I do to you, Rachel Dawes," he whispers back, fingers sliding down her body and pulling her in against him once more. The warmth of her is all he is aware of. Her body, her hands, her lips, her voice.
The kids like their sex! It's true. It cannot be helped, and it shouldn't be helped. Their time is limited. If they want to fill up much of that time with sex, they should!
As many times and as soon as they like. Ahem.
You're quite welcome, Rachel.
"Thirty minutes is nothing. I once had to get ready in five minutes, and I don't mean any sort of look would do... I mean that I had to be professionally, put together, ready to go in five minutes," he says and the memory comes easily.
He is a private person, but there is nothing that he keeps from her or doesn't think about sharing. Memories come more easily in her presence because he doesn't fear them and what they could do to him like he would with anyone else. "It was during the time that I worked for Romana. Emergency session of the First Angels, and my presence was needed where ever she was. Granted, she never determined what I should look like, but I made it my mission to always look as professional as I do. Every day. Because I was representing her as her employee."
If she needs help looking for the dress, he will assist her. The narration has a feeling that Rachel does not want Robin assisting her as they will likely end up in bed together again.
His will power when it comes to her is really weak.
Robin is more than half dressed when she emphasizes the word surprise. "Fine, fine. A surprise," he says, and he smirks at her, holding his hands up on either side of him. "I won't ask again. I'll simply use my skills of deduction to figure it out myself."
The narration does not like to think of how limited their time is, but it's true. They don't have forever. Forever is never theirs to give or receive. They have days to live and those days are marked.
Everything begins and everything ends.
Everything is old and everything is new.
They've been here in Paris before, falling in love again and again.
They'll never be here again.
How painful that is to think of. How beautiful to know nothing lasts forever. Not suffering, not happiness, not life. Change is constant and they reach everything at the exact moment they should. Life would lose everything that makes it so important to cherish. It would lose its meaning if there was endlessness to live it.
In conclusion, the kids love their sex, very much so, and the narration would not have it any other way.
"Robin," Rachel says teasingly, looking over at him with nothing short of appraisal, "Never would any sort of look do for you."
She quiets as he tells her the story.
They're both intensely private people and for some reason, they always, from the very get go, were able to let each other in. Vulnerability they never afforded to anybody else was given almost seamlessly, and it isn't something she questions any longer. Rachel props her head on one hand, and listens.
"Image isn't everything, but it's important," Rachel agrees. No book should be judged by its cover, but first impressions and the way one carries themselves determines much of how you're viewed.
It's why she's always looked put-together and professional.
"Five minutes, though. That is impressive, I have to admit. Then again, you're awfully quick at undressing when the moment calls for it."
Case in point, Rachel can't find her dress. Rachel appreciates Robin's assistance, unless it comes to these things, it's true. They'll never leave the room if he starts assisting.
Rachel finally finds her dress and lets the sheet drop. She slips the dress on and starts to zip it up. She walks over to Robin when she can't reach further.
"Your skills of deduction will prove unsuccessful," she says, and if she sounds pleased with herself it's because she is, frankly. "Besides, if you figure it out yourself it would spoil the point of a surprise. You wouldn't spoil it when I've worked at putting it together, would you?"
Yes, Robin. Rachel aims for the metaphorical jugular. She is a lawyer.
This narration does not like to think about it either. Forever is for other people in the end. It's for people who don't live in Chicago.
Forever is certainly not for them, and they are aware of it even if it is the furthest thing from Robin's mind at the moment.
He would never want to live forever, but sometimes thinking of her and how it feels to be with her... he almost wishes they could. It takes that reminder that it wouldn't feel like this or be as precious as it is if they could live until the end of time.
Still. The almost wish has occurred to him on more than one occasion, particularly while looking at her in the sunlight or being overwhelmed by how she makes him feel. It's only ever 'almost' that he wishes for forever, but it's every single day that he wishes for one day more.
They should have all the sex. They deserve it.
Robin smirks at her at her teasing directly before he walks into the bathroom to take care of various...business. "Well, no. Of course not," he says, lifting his chin slightly as though preening. "If any look would do, I would hardly be Robin Rice, personal assistant extraordinaire."
All the facepalming is going on over here, Robin. Thanks.
He smiles when she agrees, pleased and not surprised that she does. She has always looked put-together herself, after all. The first impression that she made on him was a very good one, despite what his awkward exit would imply to others.
"Undressing is rather easy to do," Robin agrees with a hobag of a smirk that cannot be denied, and he sees her walk toward him and meets her halfway, grabbing her by the shoulders and walking around to the back.
His cold hands slide against the smoothness of her back, taking extra care as he zips it up. One hand rests on her shoulder. No one ever said that he isn't a hobag at any possible moment on occasion.
"I don't know. Would I? I suppose that is the question," Robin says lightly, though he knows very well that he wants Rachel to be able to surprise him with whatever it is that she has planned.
He has to keep up appearances, however, of wanting to know the surprise before it hits. Like she did on their very first date with her questions on the cab ride over to the restaurant. It seems like it happened years and years ago at times.
At others, it feels like it happened yesterday.
At the moment, it's a strange combination of the two. It's what he thinks of as he pulls back from her, scanning the length of her and pressing a kiss against her lips.
"Gorgeous," he says, and he realizes that he tells her all the time but he does feel that it needs to be said... all the time. "And I'm completely ready to go. Fifteen minutes to spare."
They've had a similar conversation when it came to Firsts, and how they come to be firsts in the first place. They live to be 900, and she can't imagine it. They lose their humanity, and maybe that's what makes them capable of handling all they're supposed to, but Rachel wouldn't want to live that long.
She wouldn't want him to live that long, too.
Even if some days... some days, if she's honest with herself, and Rachel usually always is, she would like more than what they'll most likely get.
She'd like to grow old with him, and die peacefully of old age in their bed, but then--she'd grow older and he wouldn't. He'd look exactly the same on the outside and that's strange to contemplate, too. It isn't something she lingers on because it won't happen, but it's still strange.
It's a reminder of how different they are. They're different species. She's from a different universe. And somehow, somehow, they've ended up here together, without any of that mattering when it comes down to it.
Rachel falls back on the bed, her head nestled on the pillow, and she laughs as she looks up at the ceiling. "Of course not. And we can't have that. Perish the thought," she says, closing her eyes briefly. It would be very tempting to stay here, except there's so much of the city they've yet to see. Sleep seems so unimportant in comparison to everything she wants to do.
And she wants to do so much, and part of her knows, it really does, if she doesn't do it now, she won't get a chance to later.
It's what makes her turn over to her side, swing her legs back down, feet planted firmly on the floor.
Rachel lifts a hand, swiping her hair and bringing it to her shoulder so he may suitably zip up the rest of the dress. She is never quite immune to his hands and it shows when she turns back around once it's done.
"There is no question. You wouldn't," Rachel says with certainty, a rare grin spreading across her face. Her gaze is bright and the weight that had been resting on her shoulders for months isn't there.
It should be noted, before he can argue with her--an entirely likely possibility--Rachel leans on tip toes and meets him for another kiss, softer but longer than the last.
"Thank you. You don't look too shabby yourself," Rachel says, her fingers resting on the knot of his tie momentarily before she drops her hand and finds his own. "Don't forget your coat. It's going to be considerably colder, where we're going."
It's a hint, if he should like to take it as one, but considering Robin isn't affected by cold the same way she is, a coat might not be necessary. She'll still warn him of it, just in case.
Robin has never wanted to grow old before by angel standards, but he would like to do so with her. It isn't meant for them. It isn't meant for her, and because of that, it isn't for him either. He's tied to her in a way that is impossible to put to words. It's deep, intense. The truth of it frequently takes his breath away.
He has told her time and again.
He belongs with her.
In the end their differences don't matter much at all. They are different species. He is cold, and she is warm. He's supposed to be able to live to nearly a thousand years, and the maximum lifespan that she could expect if she wasn't who she was is one hundred. They are from separate universes.
The differences fade because he is connected to her.
He has been from the start, and it's only increased, strengthened, and intensified with time.
"Consider it perished," Robin says, walking over to the bed and sliding his fingers up her leg when she falls back.
The hobag has an incredibly difficult time keeping his hands off of her if that hasn't already been made abundantly clear.
He would be happy to sleep with her and equally happy to share the city with her. There's so much to see, and there's nothing about their days together that's exhausting in Paris like they can be in Chicago.
Robin's hands rest upon her shoulders, and he smiles at her. "You're absolutely right. I wouldn't," he says, and the grin on her face and the brightness of her gaze-- He leans in to her again, capturing her mouth with his one more time.
There is nothing sexual in this kiss for once. It is all love and assurance and happiness, and it is entirely for her.
"Considerably colder, hmm?" Robin will take his coat if she recommends it.. and a scarf as he knows that she likes those as well. He slides the scarf over his neck and then turns back to her looking all too pleased with the state of things. "So you did give me a hint. Almost. I won't use my deductive reasoning, however, to examine it. I will enjoy the surprise while being entirely surprised as to what it is that we're doing."
"Robin," Rachel says warningly again with his, her hand linking with his to ensure his fingers don't slide too high up her leg and make her sheet fall off in the process. It's as much for her benefit as it is his. If the get started again, they're not leaving this room, and her own resistance is weaker when it comes to him.
Her maximum life span might be a hundred, but the kind of life Rachel leads isn't one that promises a peaceful death of old age.
She's hopeful. She's idealistic. She is not delusional.
There are very real risks she takes every day to do a job she believes in, and Chicago is a lot more dangerous than Gotham was. She didn't even think that was possible, with the kinds of criminals she locked up and the death threats that would flood her office every day on end.
The Rifts. The CLF. The plagues. The disasters.
It's unlike anything she'd ever faced before. She wasn't made for this world and she belongs in it. She belongs in it with him and whereas it used to be strange to think of someplace other than Gotham as home, it doesn't seem strange now.
She can have both homes. And home is really more the people you're with.
The two of them could spend the entire day out the hotel room, return way past midnight, and she still would not be exhausted. It's a different kind of activity. It's a different kind of staying up. Rachel hasn't felt tired or stressed once throughout their strip.
The grin softens when he kisses her. No, there isn't anything sexual in it, but there's love, and the assurance elicits a response from her that is equally loving.
Rachel cradles his face in her hands, thumb trailing the length of his jawline gently. She's still smiling against him, and he's the only man she's ever kissed and laughed with simultaneously.
"It's a hint to the location. Not to the surprise itself," Rachel clarifies, handing him an envelope with two train tickets. He'll find out sooner or later they're going to a train station. And they did talk about leaving Paris for a day throughout their trip. It won't come as the surprise she'd been building it up to, but oh well.
She tugs him outside the bedroom. "Now you won't even get a chance to eat something beforehand. If you'd stopped...doing that thing you do for at least twenty minutes you would have at least had a croissant."
Robin only sends her a charming smile when she says his name in that warning tone of hers. He pulls his hand away, completely capable of behaving. Robin says he rarely ever has reason to put up any resistance when it comes to her and pie. Pie is generally something that he always wants to do as often as he can, and he doesn't mind when it interferes with other events they have planned.
It is the way of the hobag, Rachel, but if he did want to resist her, he would have equal difficulty doing so.
Robin is not delusional either. He recognizes the life that Rachel has chosen is a difficult one. He loves her as she is, and what she does is such a big part of who she is. As much as he may wish for more time, Robin would not want her to change to make that happen.
He wants her to be exactly as she is.
He'll face the city with its disasters, plagues, the CLF, and The Rifts. He'll face it with her, come what may.
Robin said that to her once. The memory comes back easily to him, and it's a warm, intense feeling. The strength of it takes his breath away, and it almost makes him pause as he continues to get ready.
How far they've come.
It hits him again and again. They have done the impossible. They've done together what no one else would believe could work.
They've continued fighting and found hope in a city that breaks and kills people on a regular basis. After all this time, they are remarkably whole.
Home is Rachel.
Even when he lived on his own and made a life for himself, he did not have home until they found each other again.
Well, Rachel, stripping is rather stressful in any other place of the world. It's true.
Robin quiets. They aren't saying any words at all, and they don't need to. Communication doesn't mean speaking out loud. The connection is there, and he knows everything she's saying by looking at her face and feeling her hands against him. Gentle and right. His hand slides up her back, and his smile softens with hers. Fingers slide along her shoulders and he pulls her in close.
He takes the envelope in his hand and opens it to find the train tickets inside. Robin opens his mouth to say something but nothing honestly comes out at first. He pauses where he is, and the emotions that he's feeling, the love, the want, the excitement, and the.... hope and happiness, all of it plays over his face as he looks at the tickets. There is little he enjoys more than sharing these places with her, and they're going somewhere entirely new. They're going to ride on a train together. Even that is new. "Thank you. For the hint to the location. We're leaving then for awhile? I'm still wondering about the surprise itself."
A train? And now his mind is seriously working. Where could they be going? What for? For how long?
Robin does want to be surprised by her, but his curiosity has been piqued by the tickets in his hand.
He follows where she tugs easily, and then he smirks at her. "That thing that I do. If I didn't do that thing that I do, I wouldn't be me," Robin says with a sideways smile as he looks at her and... has to resist pulling her in close again because they really won't get out of here if he does. "There's fruit on the counter. I'll have something on the go and the train should provide a snack at least."
Robin grabs an apple and offers one to her. He shines it against his suit, and there's really something sexy about someone eating an apple. Or perhaps it is too late and the narration is loopy. He sticks a corner of the red apple in his mouth and bites down with a satisfying crunch.
"On our way out then. I do want to see what you've planned. I've only been waiting for months," he says, with a smirk, thinking he'll not be able to resist going back to the bedroom much longer. His arm wraps around her waist, and he holds the door open for her so she can walk out.
LMFAO, you shut your mouth, okay. It's a stressful business.
Rachel quiets when he does, the smile never dropping from her face as she looks at their hands in the corridor, their bodies closing the space between them that could have been distance but never really is. She could be at the opposite end of the room and she'd still feel close to him and know he's there. There's never any wondering, any question as to where her hands should go, how close is close enough, what's allowed and what isn't.
Everything with Robin has been so very natural, from the very beginning.
From the first time she slept in his arms--and they were still getting to know each other then--to the night she actually slept with him, there was never any wonder.
She knows where her hands belong, where her mouth belongs, where she belongs. She's already inching closer when he pulls her in, and her lips rest against his cheek as he opens the envelope. She expected--something, maybe. The same hesitation she received through the happiness when giving him the typewriter.
The same awkwardness he'd given her when he admitted he'd written a book.
The same confusion when she presented him with a memory box on Christmas.
He'd had no idea why she would give him anything. Why she'd want to.
And she's genuinely surprised to find none of those emotions are there. She stands back and sees all those...all those good emotions flit across his face. She sees them bleed through his expression, and while she's not a weeping mess the narration is, it strikes a chord to the very heart of her.
What makes it more beautiful to her is he does not even notice. He keeps them moving, hands her an apple, and goes on about business as usual. And that's the gift he gives to her and he'll never know. They've come a long way, it's true, but the longer way he's come on his own and with her, it's...there are no words for it.
"For a very long while," Rachel answers with a nod once she's found her voice, fingers linking with his. She doesn't resist the urge to kiss him again, bringing him over to her by the waist and leaning against the hallway's wall for just a second. "We'd get back to Paris at midnight, but I've booked a hotel room should we decide we'd like to stay for the night."
There isn't an angle here she did not think about.
The train tickets in his hand won't tell him much. Rachel's blotted out the location no them with a black Sharpie. She's smart, okay, and she covers all her bases. She can't keep him from finding out once they're inside the train but she can make him wonder till then.
Yes, she's wonderful that way.
"I suppose that's true," she says, sounding far more disgruntled than she is.
Rachel shines her own apple against his suit, and loopy or not, it's entirely possible Robin makes eating an apple look sexy. Rachel bites down on her own apple, leaning against him as they walk. Far be it for her to stall and have them end up back in bed.
"Good things come to those who wait," Rachel says in singsong, quickening her stride so she's already pressing down on the elevator by the time he closes their door. This coming from a very impatient woman who had to get his own surprise out of him in a cab on their first date.
Robin does not have to be physically close to her at all to feel that closeness, but he likes to be as physically close to her as he can at all possible moments. It honestly can't be helped.
There's no question. There's not even a hint of awkwardness in his interactions with her, because he's close to her in a much more intimate way than physically. It goes beyond all of the rest. It goes much deeper, and he knows her body better than his own.
He can reach for her in the middle of the night, in the darkness. His hand can slide across some part of her and he knows exactly what part it is by the feel of it. Robin has never known anything like this. If he lost it, if he lost her, he wouldn't want it again.
He couldn't have it with anyone else. It has been natural from the start. It's like he has known her for so long without knowing a thing about her.
There was that connection from the start.
There is absolutely no hesitation. Robin doesn't notice it at all. The narration didn't notice it until it was pointed out to her, because for once in maybe all his life and certainly for the first time in their relationship, it was natural to him.
He could accept the gift without wondering about the why, without feeling like it's something that he does not deserve, without feeling awkward and out of place for simply accepting it as it is, without feeling like there's something specific he had to have done to get a 'reward'.
None of it occurs to him. He does not pause to think about it though as more of this surprise is revealed, he may feel that awkwardness return, but he doesn't feel it now. It couldn't be farther away from him.
"You really did put a quite a lot of planning into this," Robin says with a smile, squeezing her hand and leaning into that kiss. It's only a second in the hallway, yes, no longer than that. "Not that I'm surprised."
It's how Rachel is. She does like to be prepared and to plan ahead of time, and he would expect no less from her when it comes to this surprise. They are similar in that way. Workaholics that like to plan ahead and work out all the details.
Robin smiles when he sees that the location has been blotted out. "Very smart, Miss Dawes," he says, pulling her in close again and kissing her one more time on the lips.
On the lips for only a moment.
Only a moment.
It is really, really difficult for him to resist her especially this week, even if he is rather excited to see where she's chosen and what she's picked out and where they're going.
Robin laughs at the disgruntled sound of her voice and simply keeps his arm around her waist as they walk. Yes, the narration would not be surprised and if she saw Robin eat an apple would probably think it's sexy. Maybe there was less loopiness than she originally thought.
And he is laughing again at the singsong sound of her voice. Robin is by her side quickly after he has shut and locked (and triple checked the lock) on the door. Robin is thinking of the very same thing.
"Yes, I remember how much you had to wait on our first date for your surprise," he says, sliding his arm around her waist again and taking them both into the elevator when the doors slide open.
Small enclosed space with Rachel Dawes. This will take serious will power. Robin ignores how much he would simply like to take her in this elevator... again, and he focuses on that memory. It seems as though it happened years and years ago. It's still nearly impossible to imagine that two years ago, he had no idea who she was. It seems so wrong too in a way. Looking back on his life before he knew her and looking at his life now... There's such a wonderful difference.
Robin grins at her, oh so charmingly. "You didn't keep pushing in the taxi cab on the way or anything. Quickly chipping away at my resistance."
"No, it is rather necessary."
Note she is not being contrary merely for the sake of it. This is a woman on a mission. "Haven't you ever heard the saying, the early bird gets the worm?"
She laughs softly and lets herself be pulled, falling on top of him with a small, surprised noise. She melts into the kisses, and it's very easy to pretend it isn't so early in the morning. The thick drapes are closed, the sheets are inviting, and he is the most inviting of all.
Her arms slide around his neck as she kisses him back momentarily. She's about to stand up again when her neck is tended to.
"Robin," Rachel says warningly, hands still flattened on either side of him to push herself up. She'll be pushing herself up any moment now. Really.
...It is a very comfortable bed, but she's trying to be firm here.
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"Necessary, is it?"
One should note the sleepy quality to his voice. He is also being contrary merely for the sake of it. Robin Rice very rarely stays in bed when he could be up and about. In fact, the only thing that generally keeps him in bed is the desire to spend a few more minutes or hours with her there in it. "No, I've absolutely never heard that saying."
Wince. He can lie when it's obvious that they both know that he is lying. Yes, the contrary to be contrary is easy to pull off, and it is much easier to continue his insisting that they stay in bed when she laughs like that.
His mouth follows the length of her neck, rather pleased that she is still here in bed with him as opposed to finishing getting dressed. It is only when she says his name in that tone that he pulls back to have a proper look at her.
"Rachel," he says and then sends her a brilliant smile that show off all of his teeth. They are rather nice, straight teeth despite what stereotypes about British people would lead one to believe.
Robin slides a hand around her waist to pull her in against him. The hand slides up her waist across her back, and his gaze remains on her face. "What is it?"
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There's a twinge of guilt at waking him up when she registers the sound of his voice. He looks handsome all the time, but there's something especially appealing about him when he's just woken up, something artless and beguiling and peaceful. Note, the twinge of guilt goes away at his blatant lie, but it was there.
The smile on her face widens, arms still locked around his neck when she speaks again. "Liar," she whispers without any sort of malice to it, lips pressing against his forehead, against the creases on it as he winces.
She can't really get on his case about this. They are on a rare, rare vacation, and both of them work themselves ragged on any given day. She likes that he can be like this, even if it's only for a few days.
Rachel's brow lifts once he's pulled back. She fights off a smile, loses at the sound of her name and his own smile, and plops back on top of him. She doesn't fight off his hands. This is probably why they have been late every day since they arrived.
Then again, there's still time.
Robin's teeth are very, very nice. Rachel presses a lingering kiss to his mouth and pulls back herself.
"You know what," she says to him matter-of-factly, finger poking him lightly at the waist. "I will give you a couple of more hours but honestly, Robin, we have to be outside the door by noon."
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Robin believes that he is especially appealing at all times. Cough. Robin do not ruin the romantic sentiment behind the sentences over there. He stretches and keeps her close and admires her in the very early sunlight that filters through the window.
"Mmm," he says when she presses her lips against his forehead, and his arm remains around her waist holding her close. "Guilty as charged."
It's true. It is rare that either of them sleep in late. It is much rarer for either of them to be late to any of their many obligations in the city. Here, they only need to go somewhere if they chose. Here, if they're late, it's much less important.
They have a week together for themselves, a week where if they wanted to, they would never have to leave their hotel room.
It's all about want, not responsibility or what's right or work. As much as he loves and needs work in his life, he needs this too. It's nothing that he would have needed before he found her, before he understood that life is to be lived and there's beauty in the living of it.
Part of living means taking a break from that work to enjoy what life has given you.
Like her. Rachel is absolutely gorgeous. He watches her fight off that smile and watches her lose the battle. Sun filters over her hair and her face. Robin reaches out, slips his thumb across her smile, and then kisses it instead.
"I do know what," he agrees, reaching for her hand at his waist, and he slips his hands around her waist and then pulls her on top of himself because he likes the way her body feels against his, the knowledge that she is there and the feeling of it. "A couple more hours, you say? Rather generous of you, Rachel. Honestly."
And then Robin smiles, leaning up to pay more attention to her neck and then her lips again. His hands slide down her half-clothed body from her ribs down her abdomen and waist and lower still.
"I wonder what we could do with two whole hours..."
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There is always so much work that needs to be done. Chicago takes so much work and it drains you from so much energy. There is always one responsibility to cater to or another. They live outside the Kashtta but so much of their time is spent inside it, into the ridiculous hours of the morning.
Rachel can be found at her desk well past midnight, nearly headdesking into the paperwork no matter how much coffee has been consumed. It's something she's keenly familiar with. Pacing back and forth to wake herself up and keep working, whether it's an office in a Tower in Chicago or the DA's office in Gotham.
It's a curious thing, how they're both so work-oriented and yet they remind each other to slow down, to sleep a little more than they're used to, eat when they've forgotten to do so on their own.
She left paperwork and her laptop behind. It's back in their apartment, and she didn't bring work with her to their trip. It's strictly about them and enjoying each other. There is nothing else that she wants to be doing in this moment in time.
A noise is muffled into his lips once she's settled on top of him, and her body instinctively molds itself to his own. She's lost count as to how many times they've been like this. It never loses its intensity, whether they're being light or otherwise.
"I'm nothing if not generous," Rachel says, voice thick with her amusement.
Her teeth softly tease at the skin of his earlobe, hands losing themselves underneath the sheets that cover him.
"I'm amused you still pretend your mind hasn't been made up," Rachel says with that smile in place, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leaning back down to kiss him. The amusement quickly fades away and is replaced by wanting.
It's familiar, and she can't remember a time when she didn't feel this way.
God, kids. You couldn't wait until we were further comments in to have sex already.
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Chicago takes so much from everyone that lives in it, even if they aren't wrapped up in it like the two of them are, even if they try to hide from the city. It is draining. Everyone needs a break from it at times or they will drown in it.
He is often there at all times of the morning and evening with her, determined only to go home when she does so they can walk together in the morning and the evening. There is enough to do simply trying to make sure the tower functions as it should, keeping the shelves stocked, checking people in, making sure everything is running properly.
Robin wouldn't have it any other way. To be honest, he cannot function in any other way. It's always been how he's managed the calling. If he didn't have it, he would have fallen a long time ago.
"Yes, I am well aware of how incredibly generous you are, Rachel," Robin says against her skin, sliding his mouth along bare, warm skin.
His hands slide back behind her waist.
"I do enjoy amusing you," he says and smiles too but that is also quickly lost in the kiss. The intensity of it, the warmth, the endless pull of her that's always calling.
Always.
So sex happens only seven comments in. Cough. And it's a melding of bodies together in the morning hour with light shining in to illuminate it all.
An hour and thirty minutes later, Robin is finally climbing out of their bed together. He does enjoy experiencing the city with her, and he would like more of that as well.
"You've had your near two hours. I'll get ready quickly," he promises, leaning in to kiss her again on the cheek this time so they don't start getting... frisky again.
Robin heads to the closet to change into proper attire for the day, looking back at her and sending her a smile as he does so. It's hard to keep the smile from his face.
He is in Paris with Rachel Dawes.
Nothing could be better.
"So what exactly is planned for today?"
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Otherwise you'd drown in the office the same way someone can drown in water or at the end of a gun's barrel.
She admitted it to him on a day similar like this one but not quite as peaceful.
I'm tired, Robin. I'm so tired.
And she was. Rachel has never lost perspective, but she'd lost hope that the system she'd worked so hard for was the same system she was now working against.
Because it wasn't impartial. Because it didn't give you justice. Because it didn't change anything when the time came that it mattered most.
The hope and the beliefs that make up much of who she is were held together by a thin thread, and allowing herself ot admit it and to tell him was also so she could remember why it's okay to be tired. Why it's okay to need a break from a city you're fighting hard to save.
Chicago has become what Gotham was to her. She fights for it everyday, and yet it hasn't been so far from her thoughts the way it is now. The last thing on her mind is the paperwork that will be waiting for her when she gets back.
"You do more than amuse me," she whispers, fingers digging into his nape. His cold send shivers across her spine, and they once felt cold against her skin and now she doesn't notice. They're just hands, his, beautiful.
At least it didn't happen in the fifth comment like last time. Or fourth. The narration will have to read the typewriter thread again to be able to discern accurately.
Whereas she'd been half-clothed before she toppled over him and let herself become tangled up inside him, she is now clotheless again and a little more resistant to getting out of bed.
Thanks, Robin.
"You have thirty minutes," she says in singsong, knowing fully well if she aimed for a kiss on the lips it would not just remain a kiss. She watches him get up from the bed, feeling lazier than she'd been feeling only an hour or so ago.
She frowns when she looks around the bed and does not find the dress she'd been zipping up before she thought to wake him up. Lifting the sheets up to cover her chest, Rachel stands along with him and starts to look for the dress.
This is not the first time such a thing has occurred. Ahem.
"It's a surprise," Rachel emphasizes, lifting her head from where she looks for the dress to smile back at him. "You didn't get any hints back home and you're not getting any hints now."
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They don't let each other drown.
I'm tired.
It's something they've both admitted to each other. It's something that he sometimes feels in his very bones. It's something that he can feel in her at times, because they're connected.
Because after all that they have been through and all they have done, who wouldn't be tired?
They would have to be inhuman.
He doesn't want them to be inhuman because they lose the ability to love and the ability to have compassion. And then, what would be the point?
"Yes, I am quite aware of what I do to you, Rachel Dawes," he whispers back, fingers sliding down her body and pulling her in against him once more. The warmth of her is all he is aware of. Her body, her hands, her lips, her voice.
The kids like their sex! It's true. It cannot be helped, and it shouldn't be helped. Their time is limited. If they want to fill up much of that time with sex, they should!
As many times and as soon as they like. Ahem.
You're quite welcome, Rachel.
"Thirty minutes is nothing. I once had to get ready in five minutes, and I don't mean any sort of look would do... I mean that I had to be professionally, put together, ready to go in five minutes," he says and the memory comes easily.
He is a private person, but there is nothing that he keeps from her or doesn't think about sharing. Memories come more easily in her presence because he doesn't fear them and what they could do to him like he would with anyone else. "It was during the time that I worked for Romana. Emergency session of the First Angels, and my presence was needed where ever she was. Granted, she never determined what I should look like, but I made it my mission to always look as professional as I do. Every day. Because I was representing her as her employee."
If she needs help looking for the dress, he will assist her. The narration has a feeling that Rachel does not want Robin assisting her as they will likely end up in bed together again.
His will power when it comes to her is really weak.
Robin is more than half dressed when she emphasizes the word surprise. "Fine, fine. A surprise," he says, and he smirks at her, holding his hands up on either side of him. "I won't ask again. I'll simply use my skills of deduction to figure it out myself."
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Everything begins and everything ends.
Everything is old and everything is new.
They've been here in Paris before, falling in love again and again.
They'll never be here again.
How painful that is to think of. How beautiful to know nothing lasts forever. Not suffering, not happiness, not life. Change is constant and they reach everything at the exact moment they should. Life would lose everything that makes it so important to cherish. It would lose its meaning if there was endlessness to live it.
In conclusion, the kids love their sex, very much so, and the narration would not have it any other way.
"Robin," Rachel says teasingly, looking over at him with nothing short of appraisal, "Never would any sort of look do for you."
She quiets as he tells her the story.
They're both intensely private people and for some reason, they always, from the very get go, were able to let each other in. Vulnerability they never afforded to anybody else was given almost seamlessly, and it isn't something she questions any longer. Rachel props her head on one hand, and listens.
"Image isn't everything, but it's important," Rachel agrees. No book should be judged by its cover, but first impressions and the way one carries themselves determines much of how you're viewed.
It's why she's always looked put-together and professional.
"Five minutes, though. That is impressive, I have to admit. Then again, you're awfully quick at undressing when the moment calls for it."
Case in point, Rachel can't find her dress. Rachel appreciates Robin's assistance, unless it comes to these things, it's true. They'll never leave the room if he starts assisting.
Rachel finally finds her dress and lets the sheet drop. She slips the dress on and starts to zip it up. She walks over to Robin when she can't reach further.
"Your skills of deduction will prove unsuccessful," she says, and if she sounds pleased with herself it's because she is, frankly. "Besides, if you figure it out yourself it would spoil the point of a surprise. You wouldn't spoil it when I've worked at putting it together, would you?"
Yes, Robin. Rachel aims for the metaphorical jugular. She is a lawyer.
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Forever is certainly not for them, and they are aware of it even if it is the furthest thing from Robin's mind at the moment.
He would never want to live forever, but sometimes thinking of her and how it feels to be with her... he almost wishes they could. It takes that reminder that it wouldn't feel like this or be as precious as it is if they could live until the end of time.
Still. The almost wish has occurred to him on more than one occasion, particularly while looking at her in the sunlight or being overwhelmed by how she makes him feel. It's only ever 'almost' that he wishes for forever, but it's every single day that he wishes for one day more.
They should have all the sex. They deserve it.
Robin smirks at her at her teasing directly before he walks into the bathroom to take care of various...business. "Well, no. Of course not," he says, lifting his chin slightly as though preening. "If any look would do, I would hardly be Robin Rice, personal assistant extraordinaire."
All the facepalming is going on over here, Robin. Thanks.
He smiles when she agrees, pleased and not surprised that she does. She has always looked put-together herself, after all. The first impression that she made on him was a very good one, despite what his awkward exit would imply to others.
"Undressing is rather easy to do," Robin agrees with a hobag of a smirk that cannot be denied, and he sees her walk toward him and meets her halfway, grabbing her by the shoulders and walking around to the back.
His cold hands slide against the smoothness of her back, taking extra care as he zips it up. One hand rests on her shoulder. No one ever said that he isn't a hobag at any possible moment on occasion.
"I don't know. Would I? I suppose that is the question," Robin says lightly, though he knows very well that he wants Rachel to be able to surprise him with whatever it is that she has planned.
He has to keep up appearances, however, of wanting to know the surprise before it hits. Like she did on their very first date with her questions on the cab ride over to the restaurant. It seems like it happened years and years ago at times.
At others, it feels like it happened yesterday.
At the moment, it's a strange combination of the two. It's what he thinks of as he pulls back from her, scanning the length of her and pressing a kiss against her lips.
"Gorgeous," he says, and he realizes that he tells her all the time but he does feel that it needs to be said... all the time. "And I'm completely ready to go. Fifteen minutes to spare."
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She wouldn't want him to live that long, too.
Even if some days... some days, if she's honest with herself, and Rachel usually always is, she would like more than what they'll most likely get.
She'd like to grow old with him, and die peacefully of old age in their bed, but then--she'd grow older and he wouldn't. He'd look exactly the same on the outside and that's strange to contemplate, too. It isn't something she lingers on because it won't happen, but it's still strange.
It's a reminder of how different they are. They're different species. She's from a different universe. And somehow, somehow, they've ended up here together, without any of that mattering when it comes down to it.
Rachel falls back on the bed, her head nestled on the pillow, and she laughs as she looks up at the ceiling. "Of course not. And we can't have that. Perish the thought," she says, closing her eyes briefly. It would be very tempting to stay here, except there's so much of the city they've yet to see. Sleep seems so unimportant in comparison to everything she wants to do.
And she wants to do so much, and part of her knows, it really does, if she doesn't do it now, she won't get a chance to later.
It's what makes her turn over to her side, swing her legs back down, feet planted firmly on the floor.
Rachel lifts a hand, swiping her hair and bringing it to her shoulder so he may suitably zip up the rest of the dress. She is never quite immune to his hands and it shows when she turns back around once it's done.
"There is no question. You wouldn't," Rachel says with certainty, a rare grin spreading across her face. Her gaze is bright and the weight that had been resting on her shoulders for months isn't there.
It should be noted, before he can argue with her--an entirely likely possibility--Rachel leans on tip toes and meets him for another kiss, softer but longer than the last.
"Thank you. You don't look too shabby yourself," Rachel says, her fingers resting on the knot of his tie momentarily before she drops her hand and finds his own. "Don't forget your coat. It's going to be considerably colder, where we're going."
It's a hint, if he should like to take it as one, but considering Robin isn't affected by cold the same way she is, a coat might not be necessary. She'll still warn him of it, just in case.
Plus, she likes his scarves.
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He has told her time and again.
He belongs with her.
In the end their differences don't matter much at all. They are different species. He is cold, and she is warm. He's supposed to be able to live to nearly a thousand years, and the maximum lifespan that she could expect if she wasn't who she was is one hundred. They are from separate universes.
The differences fade because he is connected to her.
He has been from the start, and it's only increased, strengthened, and intensified with time.
"Consider it perished," Robin says, walking over to the bed and sliding his fingers up her leg when she falls back.
The hobag has an incredibly difficult time keeping his hands off of her if that hasn't already been made abundantly clear.
He would be happy to sleep with her and equally happy to share the city with her. There's so much to see, and there's nothing about their days together that's exhausting in Paris like they can be in Chicago.
Robin's hands rest upon her shoulders, and he smiles at her. "You're absolutely right. I wouldn't," he says, and the grin on her face and the brightness of her gaze-- He leans in to her again, capturing her mouth with his one more time.
There is nothing sexual in this kiss for once. It is all love and assurance and happiness, and it is entirely for her.
"Considerably colder, hmm?" Robin will take his coat if she recommends it.. and a scarf as he knows that she likes those as well. He slides the scarf over his neck and then turns back to her looking all too pleased with the state of things. "So you did give me a hint. Almost. I won't use my deductive reasoning, however, to examine it. I will enjoy the surprise while being entirely surprised as to what it is that we're doing."
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Her maximum life span might be a hundred, but the kind of life Rachel leads isn't one that promises a peaceful death of old age.
She's hopeful. She's idealistic. She is not delusional.
There are very real risks she takes every day to do a job she believes in, and Chicago is a lot more dangerous than Gotham was. She didn't even think that was possible, with the kinds of criminals she locked up and the death threats that would flood her office every day on end.
The Rifts. The CLF. The plagues. The disasters.
It's unlike anything she'd ever faced before. She wasn't made for this world and she belongs in it. She belongs in it with him and whereas it used to be strange to think of someplace other than Gotham as home, it doesn't seem strange now.
She can have both homes. And home is really more the people you're with.
The two of them could spend the entire day out the hotel room, return way past midnight, and she still would not be exhausted. It's a different kind of activity. It's a different kind of staying up. Rachel hasn't felt tired or stressed once throughout their strip.
The grin softens when he kisses her. No, there isn't anything sexual in it, but there's love, and the assurance elicits a response from her that is equally loving.
Rachel cradles his face in her hands, thumb trailing the length of his jawline gently. She's still smiling against him, and he's the only man she's ever kissed and laughed with simultaneously.
"It's a hint to the location. Not to the surprise itself," Rachel clarifies, handing him an envelope with two train tickets. He'll find out sooner or later they're going to a train station. And they did talk about leaving Paris for a day throughout their trip. It won't come as the surprise she'd been building it up to, but oh well.
She tugs him outside the bedroom. "Now you won't even get a chance to eat something beforehand. If you'd stopped...doing that thing you do for at least twenty minutes you would have at least had a croissant."
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It is the way of the hobag, Rachel, but if he did want to resist her, he would have equal difficulty doing so.
Robin is not delusional either. He recognizes the life that Rachel has chosen is a difficult one. He loves her as she is, and what she does is such a big part of who she is. As much as he may wish for more time, Robin would not want her to change to make that happen.
He wants her to be exactly as she is.
He'll face the city with its disasters, plagues, the CLF, and The Rifts. He'll face it with her, come what may.
Robin said that to her once. The memory comes back easily to him, and it's a warm, intense feeling. The strength of it takes his breath away, and it almost makes him pause as he continues to get ready.
How far they've come.
It hits him again and again. They have done the impossible. They've done together what no one else would believe could work.
They've continued fighting and found hope in a city that breaks and kills people on a regular basis. After all this time, they are remarkably whole.
Home is Rachel.
Even when he lived on his own and made a life for himself, he did not have home until they found each other again.
Well, Rachel, stripping is rather stressful in any other place of the world. It's true.
Robin quiets. They aren't saying any words at all, and they don't need to. Communication doesn't mean speaking out loud. The connection is there, and he knows everything she's saying by looking at her face and feeling her hands against him. Gentle and right. His hand slides up her back, and his smile softens with hers. Fingers slide along her shoulders and he pulls her in close.
He takes the envelope in his hand and opens it to find the train tickets inside. Robin opens his mouth to say something but nothing honestly comes out at first. He pauses where he is, and the emotions that he's feeling, the love, the want, the excitement, and the.... hope and happiness, all of it plays over his face as he looks at the tickets. There is little he enjoys more than sharing these places with her, and they're going somewhere entirely new. They're going to ride on a train together. Even that is new. "Thank you. For the hint to the location. We're leaving then for awhile? I'm still wondering about the surprise itself."
A train? And now his mind is seriously working. Where could they be going? What for? For how long?
Robin does want to be surprised by her, but his curiosity has been piqued by the tickets in his hand.
He follows where she tugs easily, and then he smirks at her. "That thing that I do. If I didn't do that thing that I do, I wouldn't be me," Robin says with a sideways smile as he looks at her and... has to resist pulling her in close again because they really won't get out of here if he does. "There's fruit on the counter. I'll have something on the go and the train should provide a snack at least."
Robin grabs an apple and offers one to her. He shines it against his suit, and there's really something sexy about someone eating an apple. Or perhaps it is too late and the narration is loopy. He sticks a corner of the red apple in his mouth and bites down with a satisfying crunch.
"On our way out then. I do want to see what you've planned. I've only been waiting for months," he says, with a smirk, thinking he'll not be able to resist going back to the bedroom much longer. His arm wraps around her waist, and he holds the door open for her so she can walk out.
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Rachel quiets when he does, the smile never dropping from her face as she looks at their hands in the corridor, their bodies closing the space between them that could have been distance but never really is. She could be at the opposite end of the room and she'd still feel close to him and know he's there. There's never any wondering, any question as to where her hands should go, how close is close enough, what's allowed and what isn't.
Everything with Robin has been so very natural, from the very beginning.
From the first time she slept in his arms--and they were still getting to know each other then--to the night she actually slept with him, there was never any wonder.
She knows where her hands belong, where her mouth belongs, where she belongs. She's already inching closer when he pulls her in, and her lips rest against his cheek as he opens the envelope. She expected--something, maybe. The same hesitation she received through the happiness when giving him the typewriter.
The same awkwardness he'd given her when he admitted he'd written a book.
The same confusion when she presented him with a memory box on Christmas.
He'd had no idea why she would give him anything. Why she'd want to.
And she's genuinely surprised to find none of those emotions are there. She stands back and sees all those...all those good emotions flit across his face. She sees them bleed through his expression, and while she's not a weeping mess the narration is, it strikes a chord to the very heart of her.
What makes it more beautiful to her is he does not even notice. He keeps them moving, hands her an apple, and goes on about business as usual. And that's the gift he gives to her and he'll never know. They've come a long way, it's true, but the longer way he's come on his own and with her, it's...there are no words for it.
"For a very long while," Rachel answers with a nod once she's found her voice, fingers linking with his. She doesn't resist the urge to kiss him again, bringing him over to her by the waist and leaning against the hallway's wall for just a second. "We'd get back to Paris at midnight, but I've booked a hotel room should we decide we'd like to stay for the night."
There isn't an angle here she did not think about.
The train tickets in his hand won't tell him much. Rachel's blotted out the location no them with a black Sharpie. She's smart, okay, and she covers all her bases. She can't keep him from finding out once they're inside the train but she can make him wonder till then.
Yes, she's wonderful that way.
"I suppose that's true," she says, sounding far more disgruntled than she is.
Rachel shines her own apple against his suit, and loopy or not, it's entirely possible Robin makes eating an apple look sexy. Rachel bites down on her own apple, leaning against him as they walk. Far be it for her to stall and have them end up back in bed.
"Good things come to those who wait," Rachel says in singsong, quickening her stride so she's already pressing down on the elevator by the time he closes their door. This coming from a very impatient woman who had to get his own surprise out of him in a cab on their first date.
Yes, Rachel. You're very good at waiting.
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Robin does not have to be physically close to her at all to feel that closeness, but he likes to be as physically close to her as he can at all possible moments. It honestly can't be helped.
There's no question. There's not even a hint of awkwardness in his interactions with her, because he's close to her in a much more intimate way than physically. It goes beyond all of the rest. It goes much deeper, and he knows her body better than his own.
He can reach for her in the middle of the night, in the darkness. His hand can slide across some part of her and he knows exactly what part it is by the feel of it. Robin has never known anything like this. If he lost it, if he lost her, he wouldn't want it again.
He couldn't have it with anyone else. It has been natural from the start. It's like he has known her for so long without knowing a thing about her.
There was that connection from the start.
There is absolutely no hesitation. Robin doesn't notice it at all. The narration didn't notice it until it was pointed out to her, because for once in maybe all his life and certainly for the first time in their relationship, it was natural to him.
He could accept the gift without wondering about the why, without feeling like it's something that he does not deserve, without feeling awkward and out of place for simply accepting it as it is, without feeling like there's something specific he had to have done to get a 'reward'.
None of it occurs to him. He does not pause to think about it though as more of this surprise is revealed, he may feel that awkwardness return, but he doesn't feel it now. It couldn't be farther away from him.
"You really did put a quite a lot of planning into this," Robin says with a smile, squeezing her hand and leaning into that kiss. It's only a second in the hallway, yes, no longer than that. "Not that I'm surprised."
It's how Rachel is. She does like to be prepared and to plan ahead of time, and he would expect no less from her when it comes to this surprise. They are similar in that way. Workaholics that like to plan ahead and work out all the details.
Robin smiles when he sees that the location has been blotted out. "Very smart, Miss Dawes," he says, pulling her in close again and kissing her one more time on the lips.
On the lips for only a moment.
Only a moment.
It is really, really difficult for him to resist her especially this week, even if he is rather excited to see where she's chosen and what she's picked out and where they're going.
Robin laughs at the disgruntled sound of her voice and simply keeps his arm around her waist as they walk. Yes, the narration would not be surprised and if she saw Robin eat an apple would probably think it's sexy. Maybe there was less loopiness than she originally thought.
And he is laughing again at the singsong sound of her voice. Robin is by her side quickly after he has shut and locked (and triple checked the lock) on the door. Robin is thinking of the very same thing.
"Yes, I remember how much you had to wait on our first date for your surprise," he says, sliding his arm around her waist again and taking them both into the elevator when the doors slide open.
Small enclosed space with Rachel Dawes. This will take serious will power. Robin ignores how much he would simply like to take her in this elevator... again, and he focuses on that memory. It seems as though it happened years and years ago. It's still nearly impossible to imagine that two years ago, he had no idea who she was. It seems so wrong too in a way. Looking back on his life before he knew her and looking at his life now... There's such a wonderful difference.
Robin grins at her, oh so charmingly. "You didn't keep pushing in the taxi cab on the way or anything. Quickly chipping away at my resistance."
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