Skinny dipping isn’t new to Tim, exactly. He’s done it before, he’ll probably do it again, but with Rachel, it’s completely different. It’s reverent at first, and then a little bit like being a teenager again. She splashes at him sporadically, sometimes catching him, sometimes not. Her horrible aim disproves his night-vision theory.
Rachel laughs like Tim has never dared to live, with total and complete abandon. She jumps off rocks and into the water, childish shrieks shattering the stillness of the air. He swims out into deeper water to meet her, and they collide in the darkness, long after his feet stop touching the ground. He catches her in his arms and kisses her, legs kicking, keeping them afloat.
When they get tired they float on their backs in the water, and the clouds finally clear, until-if they hold as still as they can-the stars swim with them too.
When the dawn finally comes, Tim is exhausted and they both have wrinkled fingers. They wander back toward the shore, and the Kentucky sky glows pink and blue and cloudless. Tim stops them waist deep, pulls Rachel against his chest and kisses her like he’s always wanted to: slow and deliberate and like he means it. He does, after all. He traces every inch of her body with his lips, spread out on the shore on that stupid blanket she’d wrapped around him, the morning breeze and sun drying their skin.
“We have to go to work,” Tim says finally.
Rachel, on his chest again, kisses his collarbone. “I brought us changes of clothes,” she promises. She sits up, stretching like a cat, and Tim lies back to appreciate the view. Rachel’s spine pops, and she laughs, says, “I’m tired. You drive. I’ll grab the coffee.”
Whatever this is, it isn’t perfect. But they’re treading water and learning how to swim, and that’s enough for now.
Re: FILLED (R) ndnickersonJune 28 2012, 00:05:15 UTC
Oh, man, this was glorious. I loved it. I loved the descriptions of Rachel and how Tim sees her, and your phrasing and imagery is just gorgeous. Totally wonderful and perfect. Thank you so much for writing my prompt! :D
Wow, this is gorgeous! The connection between them is set out so strongly through your imagery and the snapshots of life here. Both of the are beautifully in character, and their broken pasts are so well drawn. I just love the concept of these cynical, action-oriented people letting go together and floating still among the stars... so lovely, all of this.
Rachel laughs like Tim has never dared to live, with total and complete abandon. She jumps off rocks and into the water, childish shrieks shattering the stillness of the air. He swims out into deeper water to meet her, and they collide in the darkness, long after his feet stop touching the ground. He catches her in his arms and kisses her, legs kicking, keeping them afloat.
When they get tired they float on their backs in the water, and the clouds finally clear, until-if they hold as still as they can-the stars swim with them too.
When the dawn finally comes, Tim is exhausted and they both have wrinkled fingers. They wander back toward the shore, and the Kentucky sky glows pink and blue and cloudless. Tim stops them waist deep, pulls Rachel against his chest and kisses her like he’s always wanted to: slow and deliberate and like he means it. He does, after all. He traces every inch of her body with his lips, spread out on the shore on that stupid blanket she’d wrapped around him, the morning breeze and sun drying their skin.
“We have to go to work,” Tim says finally.
Rachel, on his chest again, kisses his collarbone. “I brought us changes of clothes,” she promises. She sits up, stretching like a cat, and Tim lies back to appreciate the view. Rachel’s spine pops, and she laughs, says, “I’m tired. You drive. I’ll grab the coffee.”
Whatever this is, it isn’t perfect. But they’re treading water and learning how to swim, and that’s enough for now.
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