who: Alex Reagan and Open what: May normal stuff, plus mingle stuff and possibly sickness plotting stuff. when: Month of May! where: All over Riverview. warnings: Possible illness stuff, shippy stuff.
"It may be," Alex spoke softly, and she sighed again, before cuddling closer to him, because yes he may be sick, but right now it felt like he needed to be cuddled. Cuddled and held and just helped to keep everything else away. "But you still deserve more." There was no doubt that she meant it, and she wondered not for the first time and certainly not for the last how the two of them had ended up in Geneva with things finally on the table between them.
She hoped that it had come about the right way, and the best way and that in doing it she hadn't chased him away and needed for him to come back. Of course, that was how he did things sometimes so she couldn't be too angry about it. At least not when things were settled.
"Whatever else, Richard," her voice was a little whisper in the darkness. "I love you, and have loved you for a long time and nothing else is going to change it. If you don't feel secure in anything else, you can feel secure in that." Maybe that could be a kind of armor to help when his suit came off.
He reached out, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, eyes open just enough to be able to watch her lying there. Not for the first time, he thought about how beautiful she was; as if all that made her who she was seemed to radiate out of her like a shining halo. Unlike him, a man who kept everything shrouded in an armor that he could never truly remove. The shadow of a man who once was.
"I do." The answer is soft but honest. He trusts her, feels secure with her, and for the first time in longer then he can remember, feels as if he's home. "Alex," He said her name quietly. It was the fragment of what he wanted to say. Of the millions of things that he couldn't adequately convey to her. An irony, for a man like him.
She was the only one who could convince him not to go headlong into what he knew was a trap set by Thomas Warren. She was the only person he trusted without question, even if he refused to believe the existence of the supernatural, even in her Black Tape.
The bedsheets rustled as he moved to rest his head against hers. It's all he can do to say it, the words that have been struggling against his thoughts. What he's still not sure he should say because of the time she's missing. "I love you."
One of the reasons that was so good at the radio, and why she preferred it over working in print or television was because of how good she knew her voice was. It was expressive, there was no doubt about that, and listeners could always tell how she was feeling whenever she shared things with them. Not that long ago, she'd told someone that she'd made a shitty actor, just because she was so bad at hiding things in her voice.
Now, when she spoke there was that smile in her. Bright and blinding it could be in the light, the dark and heer whisper softened it more than a little bit. "Good." She meant it, because she was glad that he knew it, and she made a contented sigh when he said that he loved her. She snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around him, holding onto him in a way that was meant to be support for both of them, a bit like someone would hold onto a teddy bear.
"Sleep, Richard. You're safe, and nothing's going to happen tonight. I won't let it. Get some sleep and we'll deal with everything else in the morning."
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She hoped that it had come about the right way, and the best way and that in doing it she hadn't chased him away and needed for him to come back. Of course, that was how he did things sometimes so she couldn't be too angry about it. At least not when things were settled.
"Whatever else, Richard," her voice was a little whisper in the darkness. "I love you, and have loved you for a long time and nothing else is going to change it. If you don't feel secure in anything else, you can feel secure in that." Maybe that could be a kind of armor to help when his suit came off.
no subject
"I do." The answer is soft but honest. He trusts her, feels secure with her, and for the first time in longer then he can remember, feels as if he's home. "Alex," He said her name quietly. It was the fragment of what he wanted to say. Of the millions of things that he couldn't adequately convey to her. An irony, for a man like him.
She was the only one who could convince him not to go headlong into what he knew was a trap set by Thomas Warren. She was the only person he trusted without question, even if he refused to believe the existence of the supernatural, even in her Black Tape.
The bedsheets rustled as he moved to rest his head against hers. It's all he can do to say it, the words that have been struggling against his thoughts. What he's still not sure he should say because of the time she's missing. "I love you."
no subject
Now, when she spoke there was that smile in her. Bright and blinding it could be in the light, the dark and heer whisper softened it more than a little bit. "Good." She meant it, because she was glad that he knew it, and she made a contented sigh when he said that he loved her. She snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around him, holding onto him in a way that was meant to be support for both of them, a bit like someone would hold onto a teddy bear.
"Sleep, Richard. You're safe, and nothing's going to happen tonight. I won't let it. Get some sleep and we'll deal with everything else in the morning."