#a few hours ago i uh. was overcome by the sudden urge to draw him w a bit more effort than usual...... this is the result:]

[im-smart-i-swear]

kuron voice do i look like i was born yesterday

[bluesfortheredj]

Would I lie to you?

Smut ahead.

There’s a short, sharp tapping at your front door and your eyes flick up to the clock on the wall to see that it was still an hour until Taron was due to pick you up, so you take your hands out of the washing up bowl and dry them on the nearest towel before throwing it over your shoulder and making your way to the door.

“Oh!” you smile, surprised at seeing Taron so early, “uh… I’m not ready yet!”

“No, no, that’s fine, I just… I really need to speak to you before tonight. Can I come in?”

“Of course, of course,” you nod, stepping to the side and allowing him to pass by before you shut the door, “come into the kitchen, I’m just finishing the washing up… you can dry.”

He grins at your comment and you hand him the tea towel before your hands dive back into the water and you raise your eyebrows at him as a signal for him to say what he needs to say.

“So you know it was a few weeks ago that we arranged this dinner?” he begins as he tentatively picks up a plate to dry it.

You hum in agreement as a fork slips from your fingers and you sigh as you fish around in the water to find it again.

“Well I may have said something a little silly to my sisters and they may have told everyone in the entire family and their pets about it.”

“Oh Taron,” you chuckle, “what have you said?”

“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t even really say it… I just agreed with what they said because you know how kids are, they go on and on about something and will not let it go until you agree with them-”

“Spit it out already!”

“They kept hounding me with the question ‘is she your girlfriend?’ and I… well, I said yes. In my defence they wouldn’t have shut up if I hadn’t said it.”

You turn your head slowly to look at him with wide, questioning eyes and your brow furrows a little as you realise what this means for later.

“So to save yourself from being harassed by your little sisters, you’ve let them believe I’m your girlfriend?” you clarify.

“Uh… yeah...” he blushes, hurriedly picking up a bowl to fuss over as he avoids eye contact with you.

“Well jeez Taron, you’ve had weeks to tell me and here you are an hour before we go for the barbecue at your mum’s house letting me know that we’ve got to pretend we’re in a relationship?!” you laugh, out of disbelief more than anything else, “bloody hell.”

A silence falls over you both as you take in his confession but it’s not awkward, simply thoughtful instead as you figure out how this is going to work. You’d always been close ever since you met but neither of you had crossed the line into romance even though at various points along your friendship there had been feelings shared by the two of you, although sadly unspoken. It wasn’t a daunting prospect to pretend to be his girlfriend, in fact it was rather an inviting opportunity in all honesty, and you certainly weren’t going to argue about it. You can feel Taron’s eyes on you as you place the last plate in the drainer for him to take, then you empty the bowl and finally turn to face him.

“Right,” you sigh, “guess I’d better get changed then.”

You return to find him sitting on the sofa with the telly on so you move to block his view with a smile as his eyes travel up from your stomach to your face, taking in your ruffled white dress with black spots as he goes.

“That’s...” he swallows heavily, “that’s a nice dress.”

“Thought I’d make an effort being as I’m your girlfriend now,” you shrug, “you ready then?”

“Yep, yeah,” he nods, switching the telly off and rising from his seat.

It was just a few hours in their garden where you had to pretend you were in a relationship with your closest friend; it would be unbelievably easy. His family knew you anyway so there were zero introductions to be made and it would practically be like any other time you saw them, except for maybe being a little bit more tactile with one another.

“Ready?” he asks before he reaches out for the back gate.

“Of course.”

He opens the door and quickly grabs your hand before stepping into the garden as the familiar faces of his family turn to smile at you both, and his sisters run up to him with mischievous grins on their faces.

“We knew you were his girlfriend,” the eldest smirks, “you always come to our house with him!”

“Nothing can get past you two clever little munchkins can it, eh?” you laugh.

“Nope!” they both chime together.

“Okay girls, come on, leave the lovebirds alone!” his mum calls out.

Taron turns to you with an apologetic look upon his face, “we can turn around right now and leave if you want,” he whispers.

“And why would I want to do that?” you ask with a smile as you place your free hand on his cheek and sweep your thumb underneath his eye before sliding down to his neck.

“I have a sudden urge to kiss you,” he states as his eyes flick from your gaze to your lips and back again.

“Well we do need to make this believable...”

He moves quickly, pressing his lips to yours with a deep yearning yet keeping the kiss soft, and you’re taken aback by how much feeling goes into this supposedly fake action, but you embrace it nonetheless.

“I think a line has just been crossed, and I don’t want to move back over it again,” he admits, his lips hovering in front of you as his nose nudges against yours lightly.

“Are you going to join us or stay wrapped up in one another by the gate?” his mum chuckles, “food’s getting cold!”

You turn to face her with a smile and tug on Taron’s hand as you walk up the path to patio where everyone sits with a plate of food already. Taron’s hesitant now, you hadn’t replied to his bold comment and he was worried that you didn’t feel the same, and as soon as your hand slips from his as you reach a chair his heart sinks a little in his chest.

“So come on, how long have you been keeping this from us then? We knew there was something going on, we just couldn’t quite put our finger on what,” his mum smirks, looking between the two of you.

“Uh...” Taron starts.

“Six months, give or take a week or two,” you answer confidently.

“Really? No longer?!”

“We took our time actually admitting that there was something more than friendship between us,” you laugh, “neither of us wanted to cross that line, just in case it went wrong, but we’re mighty glad we did.”

Taron looks up at you with a smile at your words and he knows in that moment that you were both on the same page. Just as quickly as you’d arrived, the evening suddenly begins to draw in, and the girls are soon off to bed as you help clear up some of the plates and glasses on the table. You pick up a beer bottle by the neck but it somehow slips from your fingers and lands with a crash on the patio as you gasp at what had just happened.

“Shit!” you exclaim, bending down to pick up the shards, “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay! Be careful on the-”

“Oh no… Oh no...” you grimace as blood begins to seep down your hand.

“Taron!” his mum calls out, “(Y/N)’s cut her hand, can you get a towel please?”

He comes running out within seconds, knowing full well that you didn’t deal well with blood at all and he helps you stand from your crouched position to take you inside with your hand covered.

“I’m going to take her up to my old room so that we’re near the bathroom… she’s not a massive fan of blood,” he explains.

His mum nods and you sort of zone out as he helps you up the stairs then sits you down on his bed as he keeps a tight hold of your hand with the towel wrapped around it to stem the bleeding.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” he asks as his free hand strokes your cheek and pushes the hair back from your face.

“Yeah, I’m… okay.”

“Right,” he nods, peeking at the wound which had now calmed down, “I’m just going to get something to stick over this, but don’t look at it okay?”

“Got it.”

He doesn’t waste any time in getting the first aid kit out and grabbing a handful of plasters to see which one would fit the best, then he’s at your side once again, slowly peeling away the towel and wiping it over with an antiseptic wipe before sizing up each covering until he finds the perfect one.

“There, all done,” he sighs as he sticks the corners down on your hand.

“What would I do without you?” you smile.

“You’d cope.”

“I don’t think I would.”

His fingers linger on your hand then you both lean forwards until your foreheads meet in the middle softly, and he very gently moves closer to you on the bed before tilting his head so that he can kiss you. Your bodies gravitate towards one another as the kiss becomes more intense and soon the first aid kit is crashing to the floor and spilling its contents across the carpet, and your lips break apart as the two of you chuckle at the noise.

“Let’s hope no one comes up here wondering what that noise was,” Taron whispers as he slides his nose against yours, “they may find us in a compromising position.”

His hands gather your dress up at the sides of your thighs then when he reaches the hem you lift yourself off of the bed just enough so that he can pull it up over your body and discard it on the floor. Your dress ends up being hidden by his clothes then both yours and his underwear, and the bed lets out a loud succession of creaks as you lay down with him hovering over you.

“I forgot how much noise this thing makes,” he laughs, and you giggle as he shifts his weight and it creaks a couple more times, “fucking hell!”

You cover your mouth with your hand as you continue to laugh, “floor?” you suggest.

“I’m not making love to you for the first time on the floor!”

“Well it’s either that or...” you bounce a little, a creak sounding out each time you move.

“Creaks it is,” he winks as he leans down and kisses your neck slowly.

Short bursts of laughter break through the otherwise electrified air around you both thanks to the comedic timing of the bed and its loud noises that almost, but not quite, ruin the loving moment. Your bodies fall quickly into a natural rhythm together, the intrusive sound of your chosen place to have sex now fading into the background as pleasure overcomes you both, the fact that you need to stay quiet yourselves very nearly slipping your minds with every moan that escapes the two of you. The bed alone is enough to give you away, you certainly didn’t need to give those downstairs any more proof of what you were up to in his room; yet there was the hope that they were still out in the garden.

“Taron,” you whisper eventually, dangerously close to the edge.

He nods at you and you take one hand away from his body and curl two fingers up before bringing them up to your mouth and biting down on them as a stuttered, breathy moan slips between the gaps. Taron soon buries his face in the pillow your head is resting on and you hear his muffled repeats of your name until his warm breath is heating the skin of your neck as he turn his head to face you. He settles down next to you, the bed relentless with its creaking as he does so, and the two of you laugh as you tangle your bodies together as carefully as possible.

“So much for pretending, huh?” he grins.

can I request something with Taron? Maybe something fluffy and smutty?

@crazedcatcuddler @aynsleywalker @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @godohammers @celine-wanderwall @lv7867 @nellietara @crazy-souless-demon @queenslandlover-93 @kurtis-conner

[angstymarshmallow]

Simply Between Us Part 6 (Thomas Hunt x MC)

[A little note: Whew, here it is. I had all intentions of posting it on the weekend but that is another story. And no one wants to hear about your stories K. In any case here is Part 6. Thank you so much for waiting and keeping me inspired :) Happy reading!]

[Words Counted: 5017]

The ride to the night club feels unforgivable. The traffic jam he’s been stuck in makes each pass through an intersection painstakingly slow and Thomas doesn’t think his patience will last as long as it should as he spuriously checks the watch on his wrist.

He sighs dejectedly.

It’s almost been an hour and the traffic leading downtown seems endless. As Thomas taps his leg impatiently and peers out of his window, he glances for any familiar signs. Perhaps he isn’t too far away, perhaps at this point he can simply pay and abandon his cab.

Tatum, I’m coming.

His stomach flutters with nerves he hadn’t known himself capable of. Why does he suddenly feel so nervous? As if the sudden thought of simply seeing her will be different. Maybe it will be different.

A lot can change in three months.

Does her dimple still show when she smiles? Do her eyes still sparkle whenever she laughs? Does she still scrunch her noes when something displeases her – like their arguments from the societal implications of their favourite Netflix series? 

Does she think about these things, too?

It’s been nearly three months and Thomas suddenly feels like a lovesick teenager and not the well-distinguished director he has cultivated himself as for what feels like decades.

He tries to shake his head clear. He can’t have those thoughts not now. Not when he is this close to seeing her again, touching her again. She loves me. And the words wrap around him like a warm blanket. As ridiculous as that sounds, he can’t help but smile and all the butterflies in his stomach has started to finally recede.

He checks his watch again then squints.

It isn’t that far away anymore. He can tell by the landmarks he’s always used to recognize the area. But the club is closing soon and Thomas doesn’t want to miss his chance. He doesn’t want to wait another couple minute, another hour – or even another second just to see her.

The driver beside him glances at him in surprise as Thomas starts unbuckling his seatbelt. “What – uh,” he clears his throat. “Excuse me, sir –”

Thomas feels the older gentleman’s gaze from the corner of his eyes, lingering while he searches his pockets. “I don’t think I can wait anymore, not for her.” He says more to himself than to him. Flushing, he shakes his head again. It seems Tatum has reduced him to a blubbering fool, even in front of strangers. Perhaps, he does have more in common with teenagers now than he ever did before.

Scowling at the thought, he fishes for his wallet. When he finds the small object, Thomas turns to the driver and ignores his bewildered stare as he hands him a wad of cash. “I believe this is enough.” He lowers his voice as his gaze wanders to his window again, if only for a split second. “At this rate, I won’t make it in this traffic.”

“Make it?” The driver echoes. “Make it where?”

But Thomas has already set his mind upon the new task at hand; reaching Tatum on time before the nightclub makes its last call at the bar. He presses the dollar bills inside the driver’s wrinkly and open palm. “Never mind, thank you for the ride.”

The driver’s dark eyes widen a little in surprise before he abruptly nods as though understanding Thomas’ current predicament. “Alright sir, well have a good one.”

Thomas turns back to smile. It’s the first time he’s felt like smiling in what feels like eons instead of a few short months. It’s the first time he wants to smile and let the whole world see it.

He has Tatum to thank for that too.

“I think I will.” Then he simply leaves, closing the door firmly shut behind him before joining the crowd on the expansive sidewalk. His feet lead him quickly through the thickest parts of the city. He ignores the chilly air as soon as it seeps in; finding small spots like the collar of his coat and his hands before he shoves them swiftly inside his pockets. He crosses the busy intersection with a sense of renewed vigor and purpose, shrugging off the weariness that had settled with the cold.

The light changes and he crosses towards another street; all the while his eyes scan his surroundings with bated breath.

He checks his watch again before taking off into a brisk job.

He won’t miss his chance.

-

Tatum watches the time anxiously as she bites the inside of her cheek. It isn’t healthy; checking as often as she does and yet she can’t seem to stop herself from doing so. The temptation is too strong to pass up and every few minutes her eyes flicker towards her clutch - within seconds the phone will be back inside her hand; the comforting weight of it helps to remind her that it isn’t all part of some dream. It all happened.

Or maybe it was all a dream. How else can she explain the hour that’s already passed? As the urge to check turns into disappointment once her eyes make note of the time again; she’s reminded her faith in him has never been unshakeable.

He’s not coming. Maybe I dreamt him. Maybe I dreamt it all.

Thoughts like these swirls together, much to her chagrin and all too expeditiously familiar doubts began rearing their ugly head. How could someone like him possibly love someone like me? A stray thought of Thomas with Priya flashes in her mind and her clutch nearly falls from her before she banishes the thought.

The conversations and music she’s once faded from has now roared back to life the moment she feels Teja’s warm hand on her arm.

“Earth to Tate? Helloo –”

She glances up and blinks in surprise.

Teja’s leaning forward; close enough to pluck the phone directly from her hand. “Hey,” Her voice is calm and reassuring compared to the panic building inside Tatum’s chest as she stares at her. “Tate, he said he’ll be here – so he’ll be here.”

Tatum opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. She firmly shuts it again.

“He’ll be here, okay.” Teja repeats again, her smile stretching into one of comfort. “I don’t know Hunt very well but what I do know is he’s never so much as miss a meeting and this is important.” She tucks the phone back into Tatum’s purse. “This isn’t just some meeting – it’s you we’re talking about here.”

Despite her friend’s reassurances, Tatum’s still stuck underneath her own torment her thoughts created, wrestling with them despite her better judgement.

“Hunt is crazy about you Tate.” A faint smile touches Teja’s lips as she bumps her shoulder. “So quit worrying.”

Seconds pass until Tatum finally manages a nod. She lets out a strangled breath as some of her earlier panic begins subsiding. She’s right, of course she’s right. She thinks to herself insistently. The Thomas she knows has never been the type of person to toy with her; never stood her up. Even when he hadn’t known what to make of their relationship, he’s been direct to a fault and simply thinking about how many months she’s spent with him – makes her realize all too well how wonderful and supportive the director can be.

He loves me.

The mere thought replaces the fear, the uncertainty and her chest expands as she breathes – again and again until she’s able to steady her uneven heartbeat. He loves me and I love him. And the smile that’s left behind in the wake of her panic seems to pacify Teja enough for the shorter woman to draw a sigh in relief. “You’re right Tej, I…I don’t know what came over me.” She says sincerely, glancing away.

“It’s the same thing that happens to everyone when they’re in love.” Teja responds a matter-of-factly.

Tatum’s eyes to quickly swerve back at her.

“Don’t look so surprised. You really think I didn’t notice, did you?” Instead of waiting for her to respond, Teja’s voice drops an octave and she scoffs. “Hunt’s been less and less grumpy – even the media can tell. And up until a couple months ago – I’ve never seen you this happy.” She pauses, “you both have changed and I doubt I’m the only one who sees it.”

Tatum can feel her smile, poking from the corner of her lips at the thought. Have they truly been this transparent? “I should have known better. It’s just –”

“ – You’re afraid.”

“Terrified.” Tatum agrees with a laugh. It feels so good to laugh, to know that she’s scared – because it’s tarrying knowing how real it is. “It’s terrifying; being in love,” she admits slowly, dropping her gaze to her hands.

They’re shaking and she tries to tuck them behind her until Tej stops her by clasping her own hands around them. “To know…someone else can fill your head, your heart so completely.” She lets out a sigh, deep enough for her chest to expand and then implode. “To love someone so completely….” She trails off for a moment, shifting back at her friend. “And for it to be Thomas Hunt.” Thomas Hunt of all people.

“Don’t do that to yourself Tate,” Teja interrupts, her brows pinching together as she frowns.

“Do what?”

“You know what you’re doing.” Scowling, she shakes her hands enough for Tatum to jolt. “Don’t sell yourself short. Yeah, he’s the Thomas Hunt and you’re freakin’ Tatum Everly.”

Now its Tatum’s turn to frown, and her brow creases in confusion. “I don’t think I follow.”

“Your name carries its own weight Tatum. You’re not just some pretty new anymore. You’ve got talent and brains – you can hold more than a candle to Hunt. You hold the goddamn flame.”

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Tatum laughs.

And Teja’s face softens. “It doesn’t matter anyway. None of it does. It shouldn’t matter because you’re just two people in love. That’s it. It’s that simple.”

“Tej…” A sudden lump forms in Tatum’s throat and her breath catches. Overcome with emotion, she hugs her tightly. “Thank you.”

“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t remind you how amazing you are?” She replies with a smirk, hugging her back. “Seriously though, you’re welcome.”

“Well, reminder received and noted.” Tatum laughs before she pulls away. Suddenly the weight of her own thoughts didn’t seem as dauting as they were before. “Where would I be without you?”

“Probably moping at home, let’s be honest. It’s what you do.”

“I do not mope –” She starts to object, then changes her mind at her friend’s look of disapproval.

“Besides, if I hadn’t dragged you out of the house then you wouldn’t have had enough liquid courage to tell Hunt how you really feel.”

“God I really did that, didn’t I?” Tatum swallows. She covers her face with her hands as a groan escapes her lips. “Sober me would have never –”

“Yes, yes. Sober Tatum is far too tame for her own good sometimes.” Teja snorts. Rolling her eyes, she hands her another glass of water. “Now drink, you aren’t nearly as sober as you think you are by the way.”

“Okay, okay.” She isn’t about to argue, although the room stopped spinning quite some time ago – Tatum didn’t know if she was sober enough to be very coherent right now if Thomas walked through that door. When Thomas walks through that door; she corrects herself. She takes the drink and drops her other hand near her purse.

Clearing her throat, she tries to change the subject. “You shouldn’t have waited with me.” She mutters, thinking about the time. “Don’t you have a rather early shoot tomorrow?”

Teja shrugs, while she sips on her own drink of water. “What’s another sleepless night for me?” She waves a hand dismissively in the air. “You won’t even believe the stack of energy drinks I have just waiting for me at home anyway.” Her smile falters though when she looks back at her. And the depth of her expressive dark eyes, reflects how deep how concern runs. “I just didn’t want you waiting alone.”

Tatum looks away, swallowing more of her drink. “I am kind of a mess, aren’t I?”

“No more of a mess than anyone else.” Teja says with a hesitant smile.

“True.” Clinking their drinks together, Tatum drinks the rest of hers in one go. Oddly enough, it’s the best water she’s ever tasted.

“I’ll get us some more.”

“Tej –” Before she’s able to finish her sentence, her friend has already disappeared deeper into the crowd. Without thinking, her eyes scan the people around her again and this time she makes no attempt at ignoring the urge to check her phone.

It’s a little past two and her shoulders slump as the bartender announces last call.

Where are you Thomas?

-

He’s too late.

His heart sinks the moment his feet near the entrance of the nondescript building.

All the lights are off.There isn’t even anyone standing outside to greet him. Shit, had he really over estimated the time it would take him to arrive here?

He curses again as his eyes search frantically for any sign of life. They drift to the windows, then the entrance again. There is none. His heart sinks even further when he checks the time on his watch– he missed her by ten minutes.

Ten minutes.

If only he’d been faster. If only, he didn’t stop to pick up a bouquet of roses at the store. Did he miss it? Did he miss his chance?

For a moment, Thomas can’t move. All his muscles are tense and his breath is caught in his throat. He can’t even breathe past the sudden seizing of his chest. He lays a hand across it while the other keeps itself firmly clenched around the bouquet. He stares at his watch; wishing and longing to go back in time – further enough to stop himself from making the same mistakes again. He wonders how long she waited for him – if she’s awake right now, lying in bed and cursing his name through anything she could think of.

But that isn’t her. Not his Tatum. Instead, Thomas imagines she’s cuddled up with a blanket – the one he’d given her of her favourite girl; a pale lavender as she snuggles it in her sofa. She probably thinks he’s changed his mind, and poured herself a tall glass of wine. But he could never change his mind about her.

Almost instinctively, his hand reaches for his phone; his intention solely focused on calling her. He can make her understand, he can convince her he’s worth waiting for – until he remembers his battery is dead.

Cursing, Thomas steps off the curb and searches for a cab. He places his hands to his lips and whistles sharply; catching the attention of the few stranglers still left at this hour.

I won’t let you go, Tatum. Not again. He vows to himself.

A taxi halts almost two feet in front of him. He slips inside, before informing the driver shrewdly of the address that’s been etched inside his heart since the first night he’s been to her apartment downtown.

-

The ride to her home is slow. Everywhere Thomas looks, he spots another barely lit lamp post and another vacant street. The usual bustle of nightlife is completely null and void at this time of the night…morning. And during the entire ride, Thomas sits with his hands inside his lap; twiddling his thumbs as his eyes continue to peer out of his window. He feels more like a schoolboy instead of the acclaimed director he’s known himself to be and for the second time in his life, the thought of settling down with someone else crosses his mind. More than once, the idea drifts and makes him wonder – what would a life of forever look like with Tatum Everly?

He imagines they’ll have kids, one or maybe two. They’ll have her patient and kind eyes, and his brusqueness when it comes to their other people. He daydreams about spending countless evenings, showing them their favourite playwrights and works of grand literature. He imagines morning coffee and a soft kiss on the forehead before their mornings would start. And Thomas imagines, a life of forever with Tatum Everly to be the only life he has ever wanted.

He checks his watch again with a sigh. At this point, he should be counting every minute and not every second. Shaking his head, he continues ignoring almost all attempts the driver makes for small talk as he shoots him a mild-glare.

Thomas doesn’t have the patience for it. Right now, all he cares about is seeing her, touching her, telling her every thought he’s had about her since they’ve been apart.

By the time the vehicle halts at the front of her apartment building; Thomas can almost see dawn on the horizon. He watches the sunlight as it peeks from beneath the midnight sky for a moment, and the mere sight of it makes his hand hesitate to push the lobby door open. Perhaps he’s gone too far – showing up at such an unreasonable hour unannounced. Perhaps, retiring for the night instead of spending another second shifting his weight between his feet anxiously as he deliberates what to do next makes more sense than spending another minute here.

This isn’t appropriate hours for any serious conversation.

Then he remembers it. Her words. Their exchange on phone from hours ago.

I love you.

And all of his anxiety fades as he jerks the handle open.

-

Drinking as late as she did was a bad idea. As Tatum, turns on her side and glares at the sunlight poking from her bedroom windows, she can’t help but think that no amount of water could save her from having a brimming headache. She touches her temple and hisses.

As if that’s why you’re really mad Tate. A small voice insists inside her head. A voice which she pointedly ignores. Growling, she yanks her bedcovers past her head until there isn’t even a trickle of light. Inside the darkness, she tries to close her eyes again and drone out her inner thoughts. But they’re still insistent, even more than that they’re loud.

At least give me a solid three hours. I beg of you.

But nothing works. She throws her sheets off in a huff and swings her legs to the side of bed. Her shoulders slump as she checks her phone again; something she swore herself not to after retiring for the morning.

Nothing. Zip. Nada.

Staring at her screen, her heart sinks and she nearly tosses the small object across the room before she thought better of it. Instead, she drops it by her bedside table and tucks her feet into her slippers before venturing into the kitchen.

The hum her fridge makes as she opens the door eases some of the tension, but otherwise Tatum feels too keyed-up for sleep. She reaches for a bottle of water and at the last second, shifts to grab her half-bottle of wine from the other night.

“This is a very bad idea Tate.” She murmurs to herself. But Tatum feels too broken to care; as though the pieces of herself she’s barely kept together all night has finally become undone – one piece at a time, falling away as she struggles to breathe.

He never came. He never came.

The words repeat – on loop and she takes a ragged breath. Shakily she reaches for a glass, then reconsiders it and pops the half bottle of wine open. Taking another breath, she lifts the bottle to her lips and drinks.

The liquid is bitter on her tongue, but warm enough for her to forget. At least for a moment, she can pretend all the pieces are back together again. She takes another long swig, then almost chokes out a sob.

“…Tatum?”

She goes rigid. Her lips frown but her heart leaps at the familiar sound. Without thinking, she whirls around and her knees nearly buckle at the sight of him – standing in front of her.

“You…uh, left your front door unlocked…and I figured that was a welcome as any…” He trails off.

She stares at him.

He’s dishelmed from head to toe. His hair is mussed, his coat looks as though its gone through works, wrinkled and partly stained and his eyes – there’s a touch of dark smudges right below his eyelids as they gaze at her.

Her breath catches.

There’s only silence.

The bottle slips from between her fingers and spills all over the counter but she doesn’t care. All that matters right now is him – in the flesh, gazing at her with so much want and need all rolled into one that Tatum thinks her knees will give out from underneath her.

And then he’s moving, closing the distance between them before she can recover. She feels his hand, the softness of it across her chin as he tilts it up to meet his solemn eyes.

She can feel his breath on her cheek as his mouth opens, the tremble in his tone as soon as he speaks. “I’m here.”

And the breath she hadn’t realized she’s been holding; releases and she yanks his head down for a kiss.

The moment their lips meet, Tatum knows everything she’s ever been through now was entirely worth it. Every second of missing him, longing for him – all of it prepared her for this moment and she’s never letting him go again.

Thomas kisses her ardently, presses her into the counter as his hands roam and rests at the side of her hips. He can hear her almost inaudible gasp as his kisses grow deeper, hungrier and more desperate than before. Truthfully, he’s never been so desperate for someone as much as he feels in this very moment. Every part of him aches for every part of her, but he doesn’t want to rush. He wants to savor every moment of having her in his arms again.

He pulls back slightly, watching the familiar spark inside her eyes – the spark he’s waited so long to see again, as she gazes up at him. He brings his thumb up to wipe her cheek, frowning a little that he’d been the one to put those tears there to begin with. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He starts, “there was traffic and –”

“So, you thought to come by my house at the crack of dawn?” She’s wiped the other tears away from her cheek before he could.

“I…” He hesitates, “I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

“Thomas.” Her expression softens. “I admit, for awhile there I thought –” she looks away for a moment to gather her thoughts. He’s so close, so very close and she can feel every bit of him pressing into her. It’s distracting. “I thought you didn’t…”

“Tatum.” His eyes never left hers as he cups her cheeks. “I love you.” He can scarcely believe how much the words used to terrify him now when they felt completely natural to utter out-loud. “I thought I’d lost you after the mess I made with Priya…” He trails off for a moment, “but then you called me tonight and I realized I was damn lucky. More than that…you…you gave me the courage to say what I thought I couldn’t say. Not ever again.” He drops one hand to take hers’ and lead it to his chest, resting firmly where his heartbeat continued to race. “I love you Tatum. And when I was lost, you were the one to bring me back – you’ve always been the one to bring me back…” He trails off again, gauging her reaction.

Her cheeks are flushed, stark red against his palm. Somehow, she finds it; the courage she needs that probably has something to do with the wine she’s had earlier. “I never really thought we’d end up here,” she shakes her head. “And not here, in my house. I mean here – where I could you see as a man and me as a woman. Without the titles, without the awards separating you from me. I used to look at you and think – how could I when you’re you and I’m me?” She snorts, “thoughts like that used to plague me. They wore me down. They still do sometimes,” she admits slowly. “But I see now what I didn’t before. I’ve got to stop thinking like that,” she inclines her head and stared up at him. “Because loving you means accepting that we’re equal and different in our own ways, and….somehow it….makes sense.” She smiles, “it always has.”

Relief and love washes over him all at once. They make his throat tight, make his chest ache and make his fingers itch to touch her. He leans heavily into her and presses his forehead against hers’, he whispers. “I love you Tatum Everly, and I don’t want to spend another second without you.”

“I love you too Thomas Hunt,” Tatum whispers back. She tucks her fingers in his hair and pulls him closer “And I want more than a second, I want for forever.”

His lips crash against hers’ and this time, Tatum knees finally give way. Without a moment’s hesitation, he sweeps her off her feet and gazes adoringly at her as she loops her arms behind his neck.

“Careful,” Tatum chuckles softly. “I’ve been drinking and the world is starting to spin.”

“Then let’s get you to bed.”

“Not unless you’re coming with me.”

His lips lift into a full out grin. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Although, the bed seems farther than he remembers as he unsteadily trudges down the hallway. “…Did your apartment get bigger or…?”

Her chuckle becomes a laugh and the sound tickles his ears. God, he missed that sound.

“I guess it’s been awhile since the last time you’ve been here. I’ve changed a couple things but the length of it is still all very much the same.” She tries to keep a straight face as he struggles up the flight of stairs. “Maybe I should –”

“No, no. I’ve got it.” Uncharacteristically, Thomas flushes – the redness of his cheek emanating how embarrassed he suddenly feels as he takes the stairs.

“You don’t have to – ”

“I will thematically carry you to bed.” He interrupts with a faint crease in his brow.

She reaches up to smooth it before cupping his cheek. “Is this a dream? Am I finally seeing your softer side?”

“You are my soft side Tatum.”

The bedroom door opens with a slight creak and Tatum buries her face in his neck; pulling him down with her when he tries to let her go. “I was pretty serious about never letting you go.”  She reminds him, her arms turning insistent until he laughs.

After a hesitant beat, Thomas willingly settles beside her. The covers make a slight ruffle as he tucks his legs in, unconcerned with his coat until he shrugs it off by her beside table. He leaves enough space between them to watch her eyes drop before she forces them wide again with noticeable effort. Looping his free arm around her waist and he slips the other underneath one of her pillows.  

“Sleep.” He commands softly.

Tatum reaches for him and then yawns again. “I’m not ready.” She mutters; her voice starting to sound thick with exhaustion.

“On the contrary, I know you are.” Before she can protest, he continues. “But although you’re tired – you wear it well.” He tucks a stray dark hair between her ear and she smiles.

“Are you calling me beautiful?” Her eyes droop and she blinks them forcefully to peer back at him. Instead of answering, she feels the touch of his lips pressing softly to her brow and the subtlest hints of his smile. “But I don’t want to miss this,” she complains. She doesn’t want to miss any moment of this – having him here again with her.

“It’s not a dream.” It’s as though he hears her thoughts. And his words are soft, reassuring enough for her to snuggle closer - close enough for her to hear his heart.  “I will still be here in the morning.”

With a yawn, Tatum extends her free hand and her pinkie towards him. “Promise?”

Although Thomas thinks the notion of these sort of gestures as slightly abhorrent, he finds himself smiling at the pure simplicity of it; that something so mundane would comfort her. He acquiesces and links their pinkies together. “I promise.”

-

A knock at the door stirs Tatum awake. She blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before she reaches blindly for her phone and checks the time. She eyes it with mild confusion  when she realizes it’s just past mid-afternoon.

She’s slept half the day away.

Her stomach grumbles as she turns to her side; smiling until she realizes he isn’t there. She ignores the emptiness that suddenly fills her as her eyes skim for any note of where he went, why he left. 

She finds a note across the other side of her bed as she stands. In complete Thomas Hunt fashion, he’s scribbled a crisp note informing he’s gone on an afternoon run for food.

The words Love Thomas at the end sticks out to her. She traces her fingers across the note and smiles.

The knock on the door turns insistent and Tatum’s head whips up. She finally manages to drag herself out of bed completely with a resigned sigh. “Coming, coming!” She slips her feet into her slippers and quickly rushes down the hall.

Assuming Thomas had forgotten to take her keys, Tatum opens the door without hesitating and her smile almost falters completely. Her hand on the door itches to slam it close as she regards the taller and more older woman with a timid smile. “Priya.”

“Tatum, isn’t it?” God, even her smile is gorgeous. “May I come in?”

-