For A Boy
Rating: R
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Geoffrey and Catharine Wilder
Warnings: Nudity, implied sex.
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: Catharine's got news for him.
Geoffrey sighs.
It’s the middle of the night. She’s going to scold him when she wakes up and finds him watching her again. She’s going to say he should be sleeping.
He’s tried sleeping. It hasn’t worked thus far.
She’s pretty, he thinks. It’s something he thinks every day of his life, at least twice, and usually more. Because it’s true. She is pretty. She’s beautiful.
Catharine shifts in her sleep, onto her side, facing him. She groans, reaches… He touches her hand. This seems to satisfy her for the moment.
Her fingers twine around his. Long, slender fingers, with perfect nails and soft skin. Hands he knows well.
She pulls on his hand, lightly, just a little, just enough to give him a hint and tug him down next to her. She releases his hand and wraps her arms around his neck. He slips his hands around her waist.
"You should be sleeping," she chides him gently.
"I know."
Her hair is soft. Long. A mile to run his fingers through. She chuckles quietly against his shoulder.
"We’re not going anywhere, you know," she continues. "It’s not like we’re going to disappear in the middle of the night."
He’s about to respond, but pauses instead.
"Um, we?"
He can feel her lips curve up into a smile. "What, I didn’t tell you?"
He pulls away from her, pushing himself up on one elbow and looking down at her. She’s grinning like the Cheshire cat.
"We’re not," he says, incredulously.
Her grin broadens. She’s terrifyingly beautiful when she smiles.
"We are."
He studies her eyes for a long moment, searching for… something. He’s not sure what. He finds it in the knowledge that she’s completely sure and they’ve succeeded.
He sits up, tossing the covers off, staring down at her, as though a baby will just pop from her bare body. She finds this endlessly amusing and laughs a long, heartfelt, deep, throaty laugh.
He runs his hands over his face, then returns to staring at her.
"Get outta town," he sighs.
"Only if you come, too," she teases. Then, suddenly serious, continues: "I was going to tell you today, but then you made dinner, and things got carried away…"
He smiles broadly at her, leans down and kisses her. She shivers under him and he’s reminded forcibly that they are both naked and it’s the middle of winter and it’s damn cold. He pulls the blanket back up over them, and pulls her into his arms.
"I guess we’re going to have to think of a name," he offers.
"Alex, for a boy," she says.
"Alex? Short for Alexander, I hope?"
"Something like that. Haven’t decided yet."
She lays her head on his shoulder and he feels like the luckiest, happiest man on Earth.
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Geoffrey and Catharine Wilder
Warnings: Nudity, implied sex.
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: Catharine's got news for him.
Geoffrey sighs.
It’s the middle of the night. She’s going to scold him when she wakes up and finds him watching her again. She’s going to say he should be sleeping.
He’s tried sleeping. It hasn’t worked thus far.
She’s pretty, he thinks. It’s something he thinks every day of his life, at least twice, and usually more. Because it’s true. She is pretty. She’s beautiful.
Catharine shifts in her sleep, onto her side, facing him. She groans, reaches… He touches her hand. This seems to satisfy her for the moment.
Her fingers twine around his. Long, slender fingers, with perfect nails and soft skin. Hands he knows well.
She pulls on his hand, lightly, just a little, just enough to give him a hint and tug him down next to her. She releases his hand and wraps her arms around his neck. He slips his hands around her waist.
"You should be sleeping," she chides him gently.
"I know."
Her hair is soft. Long. A mile to run his fingers through. She chuckles quietly against his shoulder.
"We’re not going anywhere, you know," she continues. "It’s not like we’re going to disappear in the middle of the night."
He’s about to respond, but pauses instead.
"Um, we?"
He can feel her lips curve up into a smile. "What, I didn’t tell you?"
He pulls away from her, pushing himself up on one elbow and looking down at her. She’s grinning like the Cheshire cat.
"We’re not," he says, incredulously.
Her grin broadens. She’s terrifyingly beautiful when she smiles.
"We are."
He studies her eyes for a long moment, searching for… something. He’s not sure what. He finds it in the knowledge that she’s completely sure and they’ve succeeded.
He sits up, tossing the covers off, staring down at her, as though a baby will just pop from her bare body. She finds this endlessly amusing and laughs a long, heartfelt, deep, throaty laugh.
He runs his hands over his face, then returns to staring at her.
"Get outta town," he sighs.
"Only if you come, too," she teases. Then, suddenly serious, continues: "I was going to tell you today, but then you made dinner, and things got carried away…"
He smiles broadly at her, leans down and kisses her. She shivers under him and he’s reminded forcibly that they are both naked and it’s the middle of winter and it’s damn cold. He pulls the blanket back up over them, and pulls her into his arms.
"I guess we’re going to have to think of a name," he offers.
"Alex, for a boy," she says.
"Alex? Short for Alexander, I hope?"
"Something like that. Haven’t decided yet."
She lays her head on his shoulder and he feels like the luckiest, happiest man on Earth.