Rain and Fire
When thunder decides to roll and crash, and make loud noise, and crack and flash and excite, rain begins, not just heavy rain, but big, fat, fast drops falling onto a glass window, each drop with its own octave and note, singing against the leaves of trees far below on city sidewalks, a desperate attempt at making a reminder that concrete and metal are not meant to be here.
Maybe that's why he loves rain, or maybe now the rain reminds him of the circus, when he would lay down with the small ponies and listen to it battering the tents. Maybe it reminded him of the sleeping tangle of dark honey hair beside him, who was only off guard in this building, in this huge tower with their team name printed in neon white lights. He wasn't sure exactly when she had come into his room overnight and crawled under the covers to lay her head against his chest to listen. She listens to his heartbeat like she listens to rain, constant, lulling, like a natural lullaby.
She is like rain in much the same way that she is like fire. She burns with a passion that lights up her green eyes with emotion, her tongue like the angry licking of fire at dry grass, but, when calm, she is like rain, dousing her fire and replacing the burning glint in her eyes with the soft ripple of affection and adoration, and her hands, once hot and red and calloused with the blood of her own suffering and the suffering of others, are now soft and cool, giving gentle touches and passionate caresses.
She is constant as he is, like a heartbeat. consistently working, and she knows if she stops, the entire system can fail, but he is there, he is the one who keeps her from staying down, he pulls her back up. She is like rain, she is like fire, she is a heartbeat, she is his, and he is hers. and she is like rain right now, gentle and soft and slowly breathing.
and her hair is bronze and she is gold and her eyes are emeralds and her tongue is fire and her life is rain and a heartbeat, she twitches in her sleep, bringing him back from his thoughts, his beautiful, clever, small, amazing Hope, his brothers child that he calls his own that he would fight to the death for without hesitation. She makes tiny sleeping noises, that make him smile, a sigh, maybe a bit of a whine, noises that remind him of how much he loves her. She is rain and fire and gold and silver and snow and lightning. And she is Hope. And she belongs to him.