I heard the door click and smiled to myself. Kevin had been off-planet for a week trading new technology, and neither of us were well-adjusted to separation of more than a few hours. Our relationship had retained the quasi-compulsion to be together that many fledgeling relationships do, though ours had lasted years. We weren't engaged or married, but it felt almost as if we were. We're nearing the six month "anniversary" of moving into our first apartment together. It's small, a chaotic mixture of my natural organization and his compulsive messiness, but it's a place we both look forward to coming home to (though, you tend not to be very picky after long days fighting aliens).
I threw the covers off of bare legs and tossed whatever Plumber records I had been reading on the end table. I ran into our small foyer and threw my arms around his neck. He responded by picking me up and swinging me around, smashing his mouth against mine.
"I love you. I missed you so much." He breathed when we came up for air.
Breathless and slightly dizzy, I managed a "ditto" and a chuckle. He laughed as he held me tighter and planted kisses on the top of my hair.
Hoisting a protesting and laughing redhead over one shoulder, he grabbed his duffel and walked us into the bedroom, tossing me onto my previously occupied spot on the bed. He began removing layer after layer of dirty traveling clothes before falling into bed beside me clad only in boxers.
"You don't want to shower? Deep space isn't exactly the tidiest place." I tried to keep the atmosphere light and joking, though I was flooded with relief. Kevin had a knack for getting himself into life-or-death situations on a dime, and, even when he was acting sensibly and safely, you could never be sure when some of his dangerous, criminal past would catch up with him. I took a mental inventory, looking for any evidence of harm.
But he was too good for me. He clasped both of my hands in one of his, pressing them back to my sides, knowingly.
"I'm fine, G. You worry too much."
"I don't worry enough, Kev. Just last week you-" He cut me off by placing his lips on mine and pulling my hips closer to his.
This was a perfect summary of our relationship. It was an unlikely cocktail of worrying, laugher, awkwardness, and inexplicable perfection. I never pictured myself with anyone remotely like him, but I couldn't imagine spending my life with anyone else.
Despite his best efforts to continue bugging the absolute hell out of me, the wears and tears of travel had gotten the best of him, and my little inter-planetary traveller drew closer and closer to deep sleep with each soft snore. I pulled the soft comforter over the both of us and wriggled into the circle of his arms.
I closed my eyes, and it was just the sound of the clock ticking on the nightstand, two pairs of lungs inhaling and exhaling on a humid night, and two bodies pressed as closely together as two bodies could be. It was an absolutely normal scenario on the surface, but very few people could understand the complications and intricacies of our relationship that had led us to many nights like this one. Fewer than that, two, exactly, could comprehend how sweet and powerful and how utterly abnormal
our relationship was. In truth, when you survey the history of "Gwen and Kevin," you can't really dredge up a classic love story. Nothing about us, this, was normal.
It was out of this world.