Well, LarielRomeniel said I was going to have to write the CaptainCanary morning make-out scene I referred to near the beginning of Chances Are 5.
So I did.
FYI, the title of that story, its chapter heads, and the title of this story all come from "Chances Are" by Johnny Mathis, a song from ... 1958. ;)
Morning comes awfully quick.
Sara, curled up under the covers and warm and cozy with the benefit of two people's body heat, mutters to herself as she feels Leonard start to pull away from her, trying momentarily to tighten her grip on him. She almost thinks she hears a chuckle in response, but he still pulls inexorably away, withdrawing and getting to his feet, letting a very annoying draft into the blankets.
Sara grabs the covers and pulls them close again. That time, she definitely hears a chuckle.
Snuggled in there, she listens as he crosses to the bathroom and shuts the door. Then there's the sound of water running.
Sara closes her eyes.
"Of course."
After she'd whispered that to him last night, they'd stayed close, lying there in each other's arms, heartbeats slowing, breath growing a little less ragged.
"I'm sorry," he'd murmured after a while, just as she was starting to drift off to sleep.
Sara had yawned. "Why?" she'd asked sleepily, moving her head a little so her lips just brush his collarbone, noticing his small shudder as they do so. (Although it doesn't seem to be a bad one.)
"For…" She feels him shrug. "For…stopping. It's not…it's not that I didn't want…"
"Len…" Sara tilts her head back. "I know. OK? I could tell." She smiles, knowing he can feel her smile. "There are certain tell-tale signs…"
That does get a chuckle. One of his hands drifts back up her back and, damn, if they couldn't start the whole thing again, no matter how tired they are.
But they don't. They fall asleep in each other's arms, and don't stir until Leonard's self-imposed time to get up. The man has a ridiculously good inner clock. Sara yawns again, listening to the sound of the sink and then the shower, then sighs, dragging the covers back and getting to her feet.
Heh. Her shirt is still unbuttoned. She considers it, then shrugs, heading for the sink and reaching for her toothbrush.
She's just running a comb through her hair, yawning again, when Leonard emerges from the inner bathroom, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, stopping dead when he sees her standing right there.
It would take a stronger person than her not to stare. Sara licks her lips, indulging that impulse for a moment before glancing away. He is, just as expected, the exact level of brawny she prefers, lean muscle without bulk, that delicious "V" of his hips and lower abdomen vanishing into the towel, the idea of lean strength without anything over the top.
Even the black hairs on his chest are mixed with just enough gray to be interesting.
She's staring again. But, oh, it's such a nice view.
The scars are even more obvious in the stronger light, of course. Beyond a brief glance, she barely notices them. Hell, the scars from the wounds that killed her are probably obvious there on her abdomen, with her unbuttoned top. People like them have scars. No matter.
After a moment, Leonard clears his throat, and she drags her gaze back to his face, suddenly a little embarrassed by the shameless gawking. But there's actually a small smirk on his lips, amusement in his eyes, and she guesses he realizes perfectly well that they've moved beyond caring about scars. About lots of things, really.
"Enjoying the view?" he drawls after a moment, reaching to tuck the towel around himself a little more securely, but seemingly unbothered.
Oh, so he's comfortable enough to return to flirting, is he? "It's a nice view," she says casually in response, turning to lean against the outer bathroom counter. "And are you?"
His eyebrows go up. "Enjoying the view?" His eyes slowly travel from her face down to the open collar of her shirt, then farther down, slowly, between the valley visible between her breasts as the shirt hangs open, down to the muscles of her abdomen and the faint scars. "Indubitably."
Goddamn that voice, especially when it gets all smoky and intense like that. And just when her libido had finally started to calm down from earlier, too. Sara shifts a little as he starts to saunter toward her, eyes traveling (again, slowly) back up the path to her face.
It's a measure of how things have changed that he very purposefully stops inside her personal space, eyes studying hers, expression enigmatic. And, yeah, Sara's libido is now very definitely making loud, drunken whoops of encouragement at that closeness.
"I meant what I said," he comments after a moment, leaning forward to put his hands very deliberately on the counter on either side of her. They're barely touching, but they're barely touching all over, and Sara can feel her breathing speeding up again.
"What part?" she whispers, amused at how husky her own voice sounds.
"That it wasn't that I didn't…want." He's looking up through those lashes again, and that voice, and…argh. "And that, in time…"
"Ah." Sara tries to distract herself by wondering where that little half-moon scar right over his breastbone came from. "I believe you." She reaches up to run her fingers over it…realizing as skin touches skin that she's made a serious mistake.
Leonard's eyes flicker, desire and something deeper mingled. Well, at least he seems to be as affected as she is.
"Well," he whispers, leaning yet closer. "Let me prove it to you."
Sara's been kissed many times. She's been kissed by people she likes, people she's attracted to. She's been fortunate enough to be kissed by people she loves, and to have kissed them in return.
None of those kisses were anything like this one.
He tastes, faintly, of the mint of their toothpaste, cool and sweet, and Sara gives in immediately, making a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl, opening her mouth promptly under his, encouraging him onward. He takes that encouragement, moving forward and pressing her back against the counter, hands moving to her hips and holding her steady as her own hands move up and curve around his back, his shoulders, pressing him closer too.
He's still warm from the shower, and faintly damp, and damn if the clean scent of the hotel-room soap isn't the sexiest cologne ever right now. Sara gasps as Leonard breaks the kiss suddenly, moving his mouth to the line of her jaw, the hinge of her jaw, her neck, and clings to him as he moves his arms and hands down and boosts her just a little up against the counter.
Well, it takes two. She promptly wraps her legs around him, marveling that that damned towel is still there, and grabs his face with her hands as he moves his mouth back to hers.
She's not sure how long they make out like that against the counter; it feels like both a few moments and an eternity. And who knows where it might have gone eventually, but a loud noise (and raised voices) from the room next door make them both jump, recollect where and when they are, and part infinitesimally to stare at each other.
Leonard, the unflappable, looks…flapped. Well and truly flapped. Sara can't help smirking as he shakes his head roughly, as if trying to recollect himself. She moves her hands to his shoulders, cognizant that the moment has passed but still relishing the closeness.
After a minute, he looks back into her eyes, a smirk of his own hovering around the corners of his mouth.
"I…" he says after a moment, eyes still dark, pupils shot, "…didn't really mean that to get so out of hand."
Sara laughs a little. "Well," she says lightly, removing her hands and putting them back on the counter. "It's good to know I'm not the only one capable of getting…a little too caught up."
"Hmmm." After another moment, Leonard sighs, then steps back, putting space between them again.
"I…" he says again, then stops.
"It's OK." Sara smiles at him, trying to convey sincerity even though her body wants him back here right now, damn it. "I just need a cold shower. And, how convenient…" She waves a hand at the door. "…there's one right there."
Leonard's lips twitch as he crosses his arms. "I'd suggest that I join you, but that would certainly defeat the purpose."
Sara groans. "And you need to stop saying things like that," she tells him sternly, straightening and turning for the shower, smiling at his low ripple of laughter.
But, she figures, turnabout is fair play.
Leonard dodges, a little, as Sara's shirt comes sailing across the space toward him, putting up a hand to snag the silky bit of material out of the air. Turning it in his hands, he watches her saunter, topless, toward the inner bathroom, giving him one more smirk before vanishing therein.
"Time," he murmurs to himself, taking a steadying breath and trying to remind himself why that's a good idea. "Right. So long as we get to make up…for lost time."