Love The One You're With
"Loren! Woman, where are my pants?!"
"They're in the wash!"
"Wha- What are they doing there! It's almost seven! I'm going to be late!"
The elven woman seemed to appear at his side out of nowhere, with his robe over one arm. "It's Sunday, love. You have today off."
He tried not to look too baffled. "Oh."
"Come on downstairs, there's tea and waffles." She pulled out his tie with a flick of her wrist and began unbuttoning his work shirt.
"Strawberry?"
"Of course not. I have to eat them, too. Blueberry."
He watched her blankly, still shaking off the last clinging bits of sleep and the panicked adrenaline rush from thinking he was late. When she finished the last button and quirked a brow at him in amusement while gently shoving his shoulders to turn him, something finally clicked in his head. The second Sunday in May. He had reservations.
He let her spin him, but didn't stop, and instead he wrapped his arms around her as he came back to face her, and dipped her low. The look of surprise on her face was replaced with delight when he said, "You will go with me to the Garden today." She opened her mouth to reply, but that only drew his gaze from her lovely hazel eyes to her lips, and he kissed her to shut her up. Acquiescence or objection, it didn't really matter. She would go with him.
Later.
She yelped when he flung her on the bed, seemingly effortlessly. As he crawled up after her, she held his robe over herself, as if it would protect her. It left her looking uncharacteristically shy as she said softly, "Breakfast will get cold."
"The autochef will take care of it."
***
Loren slid into her chair after pouring his tea for him. She smiled slightly as she took in his silver hair and how it contrasted with his black robe. It was crazy how handsome he seemed, even at his age. She watched the way his fingers idly caressed the delicate, china cup, and was amused to find that she wished she could be in its place. Almost 60 years old, and he could still-
"What are you smiling at, woman? It's not that beautiful a morning." Despite the harshness of his words, his tone was gentle. He returned her smile, and reached over to gently wrap one of his clawed hands around hers.
The simple gesture was enough to make her laugh, both from happiness and the incongruity with her train of thought. "Just thinking of how much you've changed since we first met."
He choked on his tea and laughter, and she was on her feet before he held up a hand to let her know he was fine, the rest of him still shaking with mirth. She eased back into her chair while he finished clearing his throat. "You're one to talk, mi cariña. For an unchanging, ageless elf, you've managed to reinvent yourself several times over."
She sniffed in amusement. "We both have." She took a sip of her tea, and a comfortable silence fell over the table.
"So who was that you were talking to this morning that woke me up?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. It was just… just Luz, calling to wish me a happy Mother's Day. I didn't mean to wake you."
He frowned at his tea. "It's okay. You made up for it. I wasn't aware you two still kept in contact."
"-I- don't. He calls me for some holidays, though. I guess I should expect a few more calls like that throughout the day…"
He growled. "Not while you're with me."
Loren chuckled at him. "Sure. I'll set up an automatic answering script so I don't have to divide my attention, okay?"
He began to object, but she already had that distant look and the relaxed posture of someone no longer in their own body. Instead, he grumbled and put on his glasses, taking the opportunity to check the morning news. A blessedly slow day.
He realized she was back when she asked, "Are you going to call Angela?"
"What? No. I sent her something already."
"Ah."
A far less comfortable silence built up between them this time, but with his distraction and her head down over her tea, he didn't even realize it until he heard her sniffle wetly.
"Loren?"
"I'm sorry."
This again. He set his cup on the table and slid his chair close enough to entwine his arm and fingers with hers. "Loren."
"I'm sorry. I'm okay. I just-"
"You still miss him. It's okay. Things didn't exactly end neatly."
She pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "I keep thinking he'll just walk up one day, with that smile on his face, and we'll go do something crazy and stupid, like that thing with the waterfall, or the arc idea we never got around to, or just dropping horrific porn on stuffed-shirt corpers."
He pursed his lips. "I didn't know you still wanted to. We could-"
She violently waved her hand in dismissal of the idea. "It wouldn't be the same. Besides, what if he -has- been back? Would we even still recognize him? It's been over two decades!"
"It -has- been over two decades, cariña. It's time to accept that he's either not coming back, or he's dead."
Her face contorted in rage. He closed his eyes and leaned back slightly, but squeezed her hand and waited for the expected blow. He winced when she rested her head on his shoulder, instead, and began sobbing openly. With a sigh, he relaxed and stroked her hair. The jealousy and anger no longer reared their ugly heads in moments like this. He had long ago accepted that he would always be second best. It was okay. So was she.
"They're in the wash!"
"Wha- What are they doing there! It's almost seven! I'm going to be late!"
The elven woman seemed to appear at his side out of nowhere, with his robe over one arm. "It's Sunday, love. You have today off."
He tried not to look too baffled. "Oh."
"Come on downstairs, there's tea and waffles." She pulled out his tie with a flick of her wrist and began unbuttoning his work shirt.
"Strawberry?"
"Of course not. I have to eat them, too. Blueberry."
He watched her blankly, still shaking off the last clinging bits of sleep and the panicked adrenaline rush from thinking he was late. When she finished the last button and quirked a brow at him in amusement while gently shoving his shoulders to turn him, something finally clicked in his head. The second Sunday in May. He had reservations.
He let her spin him, but didn't stop, and instead he wrapped his arms around her as he came back to face her, and dipped her low. The look of surprise on her face was replaced with delight when he said, "You will go with me to the Garden today." She opened her mouth to reply, but that only drew his gaze from her lovely hazel eyes to her lips, and he kissed her to shut her up. Acquiescence or objection, it didn't really matter. She would go with him.
Later.
She yelped when he flung her on the bed, seemingly effortlessly. As he crawled up after her, she held his robe over herself, as if it would protect her. It left her looking uncharacteristically shy as she said softly, "Breakfast will get cold."
"The autochef will take care of it."
***
Loren slid into her chair after pouring his tea for him. She smiled slightly as she took in his silver hair and how it contrasted with his black robe. It was crazy how handsome he seemed, even at his age. She watched the way his fingers idly caressed the delicate, china cup, and was amused to find that she wished she could be in its place. Almost 60 years old, and he could still-
"What are you smiling at, woman? It's not that beautiful a morning." Despite the harshness of his words, his tone was gentle. He returned her smile, and reached over to gently wrap one of his clawed hands around hers.
The simple gesture was enough to make her laugh, both from happiness and the incongruity with her train of thought. "Just thinking of how much you've changed since we first met."
He choked on his tea and laughter, and she was on her feet before he held up a hand to let her know he was fine, the rest of him still shaking with mirth. She eased back into her chair while he finished clearing his throat. "You're one to talk, mi cariña. For an unchanging, ageless elf, you've managed to reinvent yourself several times over."
She sniffed in amusement. "We both have." She took a sip of her tea, and a comfortable silence fell over the table.
"So who was that you were talking to this morning that woke me up?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. It was just… just Luz, calling to wish me a happy Mother's Day. I didn't mean to wake you."
He frowned at his tea. "It's okay. You made up for it. I wasn't aware you two still kept in contact."
"-I- don't. He calls me for some holidays, though. I guess I should expect a few more calls like that throughout the day…"
He growled. "Not while you're with me."
Loren chuckled at him. "Sure. I'll set up an automatic answering script so I don't have to divide my attention, okay?"
He began to object, but she already had that distant look and the relaxed posture of someone no longer in their own body. Instead, he grumbled and put on his glasses, taking the opportunity to check the morning news. A blessedly slow day.
He realized she was back when she asked, "Are you going to call Angela?"
"What? No. I sent her something already."
"Ah."
A far less comfortable silence built up between them this time, but with his distraction and her head down over her tea, he didn't even realize it until he heard her sniffle wetly.
"Loren?"
"I'm sorry."
This again. He set his cup on the table and slid his chair close enough to entwine his arm and fingers with hers. "Loren."
"I'm sorry. I'm okay. I just-"
"You still miss him. It's okay. Things didn't exactly end neatly."
She pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "I keep thinking he'll just walk up one day, with that smile on his face, and we'll go do something crazy and stupid, like that thing with the waterfall, or the arc idea we never got around to, or just dropping horrific porn on stuffed-shirt corpers."
He pursed his lips. "I didn't know you still wanted to. We could-"
She violently waved her hand in dismissal of the idea. "It wouldn't be the same. Besides, what if he -has- been back? Would we even still recognize him? It's been over two decades!"
"It -has- been over two decades, cariña. It's time to accept that he's either not coming back, or he's dead."
Her face contorted in rage. He closed his eyes and leaned back slightly, but squeezed her hand and waited for the expected blow. He winced when she rested her head on his shoulder, instead, and began sobbing openly. With a sigh, he relaxed and stroked her hair. The jealousy and anger no longer reared their ugly heads in moments like this. He had long ago accepted that he would always be second best. It was okay. So was she.