sunday_reveries: 4. "I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart...
ooc: This is future fic. KIND OF fluff, or, at least, it starts out as unapologetic fluff and goes way sadder later. Anya is an original character who doesn't have a journal yet. The RP of their first meeting (earlier the same day as this prompt) will be probably posted when completed.
4. "I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am, I am, I am."
--Sylvia Plath
The rain had chased them back inside.
Anya had been watching it when he wandered into that hospital room, but it had dwindled to nothing somewhere between that and going out to eat. They'd had a bit of time to wander around, hand in hand, the wet dirt squelching under their shoes. His more than hers, she was that tiny and light. Even if her hand was warm and steady wrapped in his fingers.
Then the rain had returned, and she'd had to go.
Her presence lingered in the air, in his mind, like a fragrance faint enough to be just on the verge of the senses, and he didn't exactly know what to do with that.
Cougar wasn't somebody who didn't know how to please the ladies; he wasn't somebody who hesitated or took it slow or let them wanting or anything like that. But this... this wasn't what he usually did. This wasn't something that usually happened to him, and he didn't quite believe it was true. And he didn't want it not to be.
Sitting on the window ledge of the hotel room, one knee drawn up, arms crossed on top of it, the other leg hanging down, he was looking out the glass pane. Somewhat at the rain, somewhat at his reflection.
The question never really formed in his mind, maybe because he knew the answer. What he was doing was something he never had done before, and maybe never would again. But it fit with how he was, the way the feel of the skin of her cheek fit against his lips.
He might have gone on with his life, never knowing her, and he wouldn't have missed a thing. But now that the small, strong woman had crossed her path with his, he could not imagine not going back. Not finding out how she would feel if he wrapped her in his arms, or if she wanted him to as much as he did; not finding out what was hidden inside the beautiful shell, the appearance so different from anybody he had ever known or observed. Not finding out how to help her blossom out, relax, and glow with the light that he knew was there because he could see it sparkling in her eyes when she smiled just like that, he could see it spicing up her words. Not to find out how her voice sounded when her toes were curling up with pleasure, or the look on her face when she was relaxed in deep, peaceful sleep.
Not to discover where it would all take them.
He checked on the usual channels, before sleep; Clay showing up as he did, those years back, reinforced the importance of the habit even if missions and such were no longer what they did. Or maybe it was just a way to touch base, whatever that meant anymore. Even with all this time, returning from the dead wasn't easy. Although, after today, having a normal job and living a life that didn't involve risking himself daily suddenly felt a lot less like rotting and a lot more... desirable. For the first time in ever.
For the first time in ever, or for the first time in a long time. Those two qualifiers, he suspected, would be coming up rather frequently, in the days to come.
Unless she'd rather I went away.
But she wouldn't, he thought.
He was almost smiling, by the time he closed his eyes for sleeping.
And he barely waited for a reasonable time in the morning before dialing her number. By then, he just couldn't wait to hear her voice again.
Anya's voice.
Anya.
4. "I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am, I am, I am."
--Sylvia Plath
The rain had chased them back inside.
Anya had been watching it when he wandered into that hospital room, but it had dwindled to nothing somewhere between that and going out to eat. They'd had a bit of time to wander around, hand in hand, the wet dirt squelching under their shoes. His more than hers, she was that tiny and light. Even if her hand was warm and steady wrapped in his fingers.
Then the rain had returned, and she'd had to go.
Her presence lingered in the air, in his mind, like a fragrance faint enough to be just on the verge of the senses, and he didn't exactly know what to do with that.
Cougar wasn't somebody who didn't know how to please the ladies; he wasn't somebody who hesitated or took it slow or let them wanting or anything like that. But this... this wasn't what he usually did. This wasn't something that usually happened to him, and he didn't quite believe it was true. And he didn't want it not to be.
Sitting on the window ledge of the hotel room, one knee drawn up, arms crossed on top of it, the other leg hanging down, he was looking out the glass pane. Somewhat at the rain, somewhat at his reflection.
The question never really formed in his mind, maybe because he knew the answer. What he was doing was something he never had done before, and maybe never would again. But it fit with how he was, the way the feel of the skin of her cheek fit against his lips.
He might have gone on with his life, never knowing her, and he wouldn't have missed a thing. But now that the small, strong woman had crossed her path with his, he could not imagine not going back. Not finding out how she would feel if he wrapped her in his arms, or if she wanted him to as much as he did; not finding out what was hidden inside the beautiful shell, the appearance so different from anybody he had ever known or observed. Not finding out how to help her blossom out, relax, and glow with the light that he knew was there because he could see it sparkling in her eyes when she smiled just like that, he could see it spicing up her words. Not to find out how her voice sounded when her toes were curling up with pleasure, or the look on her face when she was relaxed in deep, peaceful sleep.
Not to discover where it would all take them.
He checked on the usual channels, before sleep; Clay showing up as he did, those years back, reinforced the importance of the habit even if missions and such were no longer what they did. Or maybe it was just a way to touch base, whatever that meant anymore. Even with all this time, returning from the dead wasn't easy. Although, after today, having a normal job and living a life that didn't involve risking himself daily suddenly felt a lot less like rotting and a lot more... desirable. For the first time in ever.
For the first time in ever, or for the first time in a long time. Those two qualifiers, he suspected, would be coming up rather frequently, in the days to come.
Unless she'd rather I went away.
But she wouldn't, he thought.
He was almost smiling, by the time he closed his eyes for sleeping.
And he barely waited for a reasonable time in the morning before dialing her number. By then, he just couldn't wait to hear her voice again.
Anya's voice.
Anya.