I wasn't waiting for magic, I was talking to myself...(rp for deep_red_bells)
There really wasn't anything horribly exciting about Chinese takeout and bad chop sockey movies. Sure, cold takeout with beers at four AM was becoming a not-entirely-unwelcome part of bringing in a bounty with the team at Hard Knox Bonds, a routine celebration that made him almost feel a certain sense of normalcy.
It was different, however, when he added a beat up couch, the movie, and the warm body that was usually tucked against his side doing running commentary while poking at a cardboard box with her pair of chopsticks. Something about the acoustics of the living room made their conversations feel more intimate, special. Every word meant something, even the trivial ones. Munching on an eggroll and telling her about the latest warrants he was tying up matched with her smiles and her kisses made it all seem important. He felt ten feet tall when he was sprawled out with his feet on the coffee table, or flat on his back when the floor, for some reason, became more appealing than the sofa.
And somehow, even though the subject of sex had finally come up, dinner and a movie still felt the same. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, the fact that the comfort level hadn't changed, but he was sort of grateful for it. Hell, she hadn't even let him have a beer tonight and he felt warm, good. Hungry, too.
He didn't expect anything, couldn't let himself...but still, he'd showered at the office before hitting the video store and coming home with food. He'd worn a wifebeater instead of a t-shirt, because he knew she liked it. And maybe she'd tried to look a little nicer, too...he liked to imagine, but he couldn't honestly tell. To him, she was always walking sin...
A sharp little elbow with superhuman strength behind it suddenly dug into his ribs, shaking him from his thoughts. Glancing at Bee's face with a scowl, he knew he'd missed something, be it a priceless wisecrack or something hilarious in the movie they were halfway through watching.
"Sorry, spaced out. What?"
It was different, however, when he added a beat up couch, the movie, and the warm body that was usually tucked against his side doing running commentary while poking at a cardboard box with her pair of chopsticks. Something about the acoustics of the living room made their conversations feel more intimate, special. Every word meant something, even the trivial ones. Munching on an eggroll and telling her about the latest warrants he was tying up matched with her smiles and her kisses made it all seem important. He felt ten feet tall when he was sprawled out with his feet on the coffee table, or flat on his back when the floor, for some reason, became more appealing than the sofa.
And somehow, even though the subject of sex had finally come up, dinner and a movie still felt the same. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, the fact that the comfort level hadn't changed, but he was sort of grateful for it. Hell, she hadn't even let him have a beer tonight and he felt warm, good. Hungry, too.
He didn't expect anything, couldn't let himself...but still, he'd showered at the office before hitting the video store and coming home with food. He'd worn a wifebeater instead of a t-shirt, because he knew she liked it. And maybe she'd tried to look a little nicer, too...he liked to imagine, but he couldn't honestly tell. To him, she was always walking sin...
A sharp little elbow with superhuman strength behind it suddenly dug into his ribs, shaking him from his thoughts. Glancing at Bee's face with a scowl, he knew he'd missed something, be it a priceless wisecrack or something hilarious in the movie they were halfway through watching.
"Sorry, spaced out. What?"