[ the nod is more than what she could have asked for in response, so feeling move and lean into her almost feels like too much. but the breath that catches in her throat leaves in a soft exhale, relieved and and grateful. she's not foolish enough to think this is anywhere close to the end of the problems that brought him to her in the first place, but just maybe it means there's a new chapter ahead. another arc just beginning. ]
Takeshi. Tak.
[ she tries them out like a pair of new shoes — feeling shaky and tentative and like she's learning to walk all over again. tests the weight of them on her tongue and smiles around the ease with which her lips move to form each syllable.
in the air between them, limited as it is now that he's bridged that final gap, she can feel something shift, lock gently into place. (jagged little pieces finding spaces to fit into.)
her next movements are subtle ones — a nuzzle against his brow, a sweep of her thumb against his cheek. ]
[ when she says his name, it doesn't out of place, even if she's testing it on her lips. they've been around each other so consistently each and every single day for a while now that the familiarity has already shaped itself to fit around the sound, like it almost doesn't even feel like the first time she says it. even the closeness to it, tentative until he feels the shift of her exhale, a signal that the comfort is shared, doesn't seem out of place.
despite the night having clawed at him from the inside for the past several hours, his body feels calm, his breath steadying as he relaxes against her. maybe this isn't what she meant by carrying things for him, hardly meaning to carry him in the literal sense, but he feels a bit more solid with her to lean against.
he hums quietly at her question, lips pursing into a brief smile, subtle for a moment. by now, hearing stories from her feels the call of an old friend. ] Yeah. Tell me.
[ she didn't think he'd refuse, even if he hadn't been in the mood for one, but she still lets out a little smile of relief to hear him acquiesce. she can feel a little more of his weight now and while she's happy he's relaxing more, she can't let him get too comfortable this way. no no, after a night like he's had, there's really only one way to enjoy a story.
so with one last little squeeze to his cheek, she moves to draw away. the warmth they'd been beginning to cultivate together starts to dissipate with the return of distance, but it's not something marta means to lose for very long. that much becomes obvious when she shifts on the bed, sliding her legs over the edge, and her lap she pats once, twice. she lifts her brows at him, her meaning clear.
[ he doesn't consider how she may prepare herself to tell it, but he isn't thinking ahead, lingering in each moment as he finally begins to ground himself, possibly even sobering up a bit now that he's been able to clear up his head just from the simmering silence. it's only with the light squeeze at his cheek and marta's withdrawl that he even lifts his head up watching her carefully.
his eyes follow her hand as she pats at her thigh, lifting his gaze to catch her raised brow before raising his own almost in question. the stare lingers like a silent really? even if there's been enough gestures tonight to address their mutual comfort with particular closeness.
when he finally exhales a breath, it's with a brief sounding chuckle in it, sitting on the invitation for just a moment longer before he snags the bottle from his lap and leans over to set it on the closest table. carefully kicking off his boots to leave them on the floor, he then lifts up his legs onto the bed, leaning himself over to bring his head against her lap, eyes peering up with a silent good? in his eyes. ]
[ the smile on her lips is equal parts approving and smug, pleased to be humored but also just as happy they can both now settle into the rest of the evening with the unmistakable understanding that he can stay, that she wants him there. already missing the feeling of him beneath her hands, she lets one settle over his shoulder while the other weaves its way into those errant strands of hair that always falls just over his brow. in slow, soothing motions she starts to comb his hair back, fingernails lightly trailing over his scalp. ]
This one's an old favorite, [ she starts, voice soft like a lullaby, sinking into a rhythm that's become almost second-nature now — theirs. ]
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no subject
Takeshi. Tak.
[ she tries them out like a pair of new shoes — feeling shaky and tentative and like she's learning to walk all over again. tests the weight of them on her tongue and smiles around the ease with which her lips move to form each syllable.
in the air between them, limited as it is now that he's bridged that final gap, she can feel something shift, lock gently into place. (jagged little pieces finding spaces to fit into.)
her next movements are subtle ones — a nuzzle against his brow, a sweep of her thumb against his cheek. ]
You had a long day. Want to hear a story?
no subject
despite the night having clawed at him from the inside for the past several hours, his body feels calm, his breath steadying as he relaxes against her. maybe this isn't what she meant by carrying things for him, hardly meaning to carry him in the literal sense, but he feels a bit more solid with her to lean against.
he hums quietly at her question, lips pursing into a brief smile, subtle for a moment. by now, hearing stories from her feels the call of an old friend. ] Yeah. Tell me.
no subject
so with one last little squeeze to his cheek, she moves to draw away. the warmth they'd been beginning to cultivate together starts to dissipate with the return of distance, but it's not something marta means to lose for very long. that much becomes obvious when she shifts on the bed, sliding her legs over the edge, and her lap she pats once, twice. she lifts her brows at him, her meaning clear.
well? ]
no subject
his eyes follow her hand as she pats at her thigh, lifting his gaze to catch her raised brow before raising his own almost in question. the stare lingers like a silent really? even if there's been enough gestures tonight to address their mutual comfort with particular closeness.
when he finally exhales a breath, it's with a brief sounding chuckle in it, sitting on the invitation for just a moment longer before he snags the bottle from his lap and leans over to set it on the closest table. carefully kicking off his boots to leave them on the floor, he then lifts up his legs onto the bed, leaning himself over to bring his head against her lap, eyes peering up with a silent good? in his eyes. ]
no subject
This one's an old favorite, [ she starts, voice soft like a lullaby, sinking into a rhythm that's become almost second-nature now — theirs. ]