Peter climbed the stairs, his son was draped over his shoulder quietly snoring. As he reached the top step, El stepped out of Neal’s bedroom holding the little boys favorite pair of pajamas
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Peter + El, preseries.sapphire2309November 13 2016, 20:51:38 UTC
It hasn't been often, lately, that they've had evenings like these. Peter's not a rookie agent, but he works the hours of one, and Elizabeth's job at the art gallery and the fact that she's very new to her profession means that she pulls all the weekend shifts.
Their schedules are conspiring against them, Peter likes to say, as though the problem is something they can track down and handcuff and throw criminal charges at.
Elizabeth just laughs at the joke and pulls him closer (that phone had better not ring now) because this is their life, for the conceivable future, and she wants more. More evenings after work with her husband and a couple beers, maybe a book or two. More time. More themBut maybe this is how they're meant to be. Ships in the night, that just find each other in the same harbour at the end of the day, at the end of some days
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Their schedules are conspiring against them, Peter likes to say, as though the problem is something they can track down and handcuff and throw criminal charges at.
Elizabeth just laughs at the joke and pulls him closer (that phone had better not ring now) because this is their life, for the conceivable future, and she wants more. More evenings after work with her husband and a couple beers, maybe a book or two. More time. More themBut maybe this is how they're meant to be. Ships in the night, that just find each other in the same harbour at the end of the day, at the end of some days ( ... )
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