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Room 6620, The Morning Of...
The evening had passed quietly, with no more talk of promises or commitment, or anything of consequence, really.
She'd tried to fall asleep, but only succeeded in dozing lightly off and on. Every time he shifted or exhaled too sharply, she'd found herself wide awake. Hypervigilance, she thought. Her mind was fixated on the thought that she might miss saying goodbye. He wouldn't dare sneak out on her. He was a bastard sometimes, but he wasn't exactly heartless.
Well, most of the time.
When the first light of dawn hit the windows, she was already awake, listening to the sound of his breathing. She debated getting up and laying out his suit for him, but that would mean leaving the warmth of the bed.
'Love? It's time.'
She knows he's anxious to get back. A part of her understands, remembering how hard it was those first few days and weeks in Fenchurch, waiting to wake up from the nightmare. At least he has the option to go home.
She'd tried to fall asleep, but only succeeded in dozing lightly off and on. Every time he shifted or exhaled too sharply, she'd found herself wide awake. Hypervigilance, she thought. Her mind was fixated on the thought that she might miss saying goodbye. He wouldn't dare sneak out on her. He was a bastard sometimes, but he wasn't exactly heartless.
Well, most of the time.
When the first light of dawn hit the windows, she was already awake, listening to the sound of his breathing. She debated getting up and laying out his suit for him, but that would mean leaving the warmth of the bed.
'Love? It's time.'
She knows he's anxious to get back. A part of her understands, remembering how hard it was those first few days and weeks in Fenchurch, waiting to wake up from the nightmare. At least he has the option to go home.
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'I've already hung it up for you. It's not a problem.'
She's even resisted the urge to jot down something naff and stuff it in his coat pocket.
'I'm not trying to rush you off, love. I don't want you to think I'm trying to get rid of you.'
Her hand skims down his arm to find his fingers, interlacing hers through his. She knew this was going to be difficult, but she never anticipated it being awkward.
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He sighs quietly, and squeezes her fingers.
'I just don't know how to do this. It's different from when we were at the pub.'
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She smiles again, and this time it reaches her eyes. One eyebrow arches imperiously.
'And when you get back, I'm going to snog your face off. And then, I'm going to shag you blind.
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'Definitely an incentive for me to hurry back.'
He leans up to kiss her again, because they might as well get their fill while they can. If that's possible.
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She pauses to take a breath, her forehead resting against his. 'I love you, Gene Hunt,' she breathes against his cheek, and does not give him time to respond before stealing the next kiss. She rests against him, shoulder to knee, and gives him the strength of her body, gives him a reason to want to return.
This may not be the life they wanted, either of them. But it's a chance, and isn't that all they ever wanted?
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He wraps his arms around her as they kiss, and holds her as close against him as he can. If he didn't already have a reason to return, this would give him one. And right now, he's not sure how to define them outside of this grief - but there's hope, maybe, that it can happen. He's willing to try.
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'You're never going to get out of here at this rate,' she murmurs. 'And the sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back. And the sooner you come back, the sooner we can,' she grins a little, still kissing him, 'get on with the good stuff.'
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'You mean you were going to send me out with nothin' to remember you by?'
He looks hurt. Or would do, if he weren't still kissing her.
'Heartless.'
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'You can't remember, that's the whole problem.' Another kiss. 'So I guess you'll just,' and another, soft and slow, 'have to leave me something to remember you by.'
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He settles between her legs, and lets her kisses do their work on his body.
'You know. If I try.'
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'Do you want to remember this? On the other side? Because we could write notes, or something...'
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'Can't, love,' he says, softly.
'You've got to let me get a clean break.'
He kisses her again.
'You know I'll come back.'
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She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around his neck. He's strong enough, she knows. To have the truth and this, too. He just doesn't realize it. Her fingertips delve into his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp under her palm. Her sigh feathers over his lips, and she sips his breath.
'Tell me again.'
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'How much you going to miss me, Bols?'
It's said quietly, with humour and a fair bit of sass. But his eyes are serious. he doesn't want to leave her here on her own, and while it's him that can't help but forget, there's a nagging doubt too - that she might choose to.
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'More than...,' she whispers, and her hands grip him tighter, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs.
More than she misses her daughter. More than she misses her old life. He means the world to her now, doesn't he know that?
A laugh bubbles up in her chest, and she grins, albeit a bit sad. 'A lot.'
And then she kisses him again, her touch fiercely possesive, because there are no words for how much her heart will ache for him while they are apart.
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He breaks the kiss to breathe, but doesn't move away. Stays so close their noses slide together; lips just a whisper away from hers. He moves so slowly, it's barely movement at all. Just a silent appreciation of her letting him do this, of how close they can get.
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She moves with him, sinking into that delicious rocking motion, her hands stroking over his back, down his sides and back up again. His scent surrounds her, the vibration of his moans tingling in her skin. All she can do is hold onto this, for as long as he'll let her.
Another kiss, soft and short, because she can. Because he lets her. Because she wants to, above all else.
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He can't stop - doesn't want to stop - the small noises she pulls from his throat; can't stop his lips touching wherever they can reach. This is still new enough that every time feels like a new exploration, and it's a bit scary because he could still mess everything up, but it's far too good to stay away from.
'Gonna miss this,' he murmurs, against her throat.
'Wish you could come back.'
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'Someone else is in my flat now.' She winds herself around him, her body rocking in gentle counterpoint to his. Her grip tightens fractionally, hands and heels, pleasure shimmering through her, driving away the dark thoughts. He'll be back. He promised.
'We'd -- ah -- have to stay at your place. In that big bed of yours?'