Vicissitudes ii: Veritas in Caritate
Ratings: PG-13
Summary: Mary's POV from Vicissitudes. Marshall/Mary. Comfort-fic. Maybe more? *Contains spoilers for Season Four. Before 4.07.*
Author's Notes: Written for Mary_Marshall's 12 Days of Christmas (In July). Thanks tilley_girl for the beta-ing
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing them for the moment.
Latin: Veritas in Caritate
Translation: Truth Through Caring
She waited for his breathing to even out before sliding her head down from his shoulder to just over his heart, as her hand eased around his waist to hold him close. She had missed this. This closeness with the one person she never minded breaching her emotional walls. She had missed him having a room in her mind and just knowing how her mind worked.
Her eyes drifted shut as his steady heartbeat soothed her inner beast. The faint lingering scent of yesterday's cologne seeped down into her and unfurled tensions she hadn't even been aware of. It had been months since she had been this relaxed. This was what she was missing with all of her cowboys. It was a lullaby so wholly Marshall, it was what she'd been subconsciously seeking.
\%%/
Mary slowly drifted back to wakefulness as she felt herself being rolled onto her back and a lingering kiss being pressed against her forehead. Yawning, she sleepily watched Marshall drunkenly easing his feet off the mattress, before pushing himself up to a standing position at the side of the bed.
He grinned at her as he noticed her sliding over onto his warm spot in the bed before mumbling "Did you know that cinnamon boosts cognitive function and memory, plus treats rheumatism," as he pulled his shirt over his head.
"It also helps with digestion," he declared as he tossed the shirt over his shoulder.
Marshall said, "In Mexico, true cinnamon is used in the preparation of chocolate. It can also be used in savory dishes of chicken and lamb," as he lost his balance in the fight to free his leg from his pants.
Mary stifled a laugh as she scrambled over to the other side of the bed as he tumbled backwards onto the mattress.
"Marshall," Mary said sharply as she noticed his hands drifting down to his boxers, "what are you doing?"
"I'm hot," he replied with his eyes closed as he kicked off his boxers and crawled back under the covers.
"Damn. Yes, you are," Mary whispered to herself as she tried to drag her eyes away before he noticed her wandering gaze.
Marshall rolled over and finally opened his eyes. Mary's hand reached out to smooth his hair away from his eyes, she needed to see them because his emotions couldn't help but spill out of his expressive blue orbs. It had taken her years to figure out that while Marshall had an excellent poker face, his eyes could never hide his emotions from her. She just had to take the time to look and see him. She scooted closer as she watched his gaze become liquid and sad.
"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love" Marshall softly quoted as his arms reached for her.
\%%/
She stretched, half-asleep, and snuggled deeper into her pillow. She smiled to herself as her pillow let out a low groan.A warm, heavy arm crept up her back to tangle a hand in her hair as his other arm pulled her even closer. She sighed as her body relaxed into his arms. She half drowsed until she felt his arms relax in slumber. With a gentle caress to his brow, she eased herself out of the warmth of his embrace. With a lingering glance over her shoulder, she headed into the kitchen to grab her jacket and keys.
Flipping up the collar off her coat against the drizzling rain, she jogged to her car. After buckling her seat belt, she gripped the steering wheel with both hands as her mind wandered back through the last few hours. Her mind kept replaying the moment that she realized that her geeky best friend was an attractive man, all muscles and hardness in all the right places. Why had she never noticed this? A man who, in his sleep, acted like she belonged in his bed. Normally, she hated cuddling after sex but she spent the whole night in his arms and it never crossed her mind how against that sort of thing she was. It was easy to relax with Marshall, like slipping into a pair of comfortable well worn jeans.
Shaking her head to clear her mind of the images of a nude Marshall reaching for her, Mary started her car and drove away like the hounds of Hades were after her. When her mind finally returned to itself enough she realized she had driven to a specialty coffee shop that Marshall used to drag her to their days off. With a shrug, the blonde marshal wandered in to get some coffee and figure out her next move.
\%%/
She struggled to quietly open the front door as she juggled her grocery bags, go bag and keys. Pausing in the entry way to drop her go bag near the stairs, she listened for movement from upstairs. Hearing nothing she walked into the kitchen where she placed the grocery bags on the counter before discarding her badge, gun and keys next to them. She hung her leather jacket over the back of a kitchen chair to dry before kicking off her boots at the front door. Grabbing her go bag she quietly headed up stairs, checking in on Marshall before ducking into his guest bathroom for a quick shower.
After her shower, she changed into extra clothes from her go bag before gathering her wet hair in a ponytail. Pausing in the doorway, she whispered, "I'll be there to keep your head above water. I'll be your keystone for as long as you'll let me. I promise," before she darted downstairs to call Stan.
\%%/
Hanging up the phone with a sigh, she absently poured herself a cup of coffee. Her mind a million miles away she moved to stand in front of the window absently sipping her morning joe.
"Why was I naked?" a voice asked, interrupting her thoughts. Mary turned to see a blushing Marshall hovering in the doorway and she could help but smirk, "You got hot in the middle of the night."
She set her coffee cup on the counter before walking over to Marshall's fridge and pulling something out of the freezer. She waited until his blue eyes met hers as she smiled softly at him. Her voiced softened as she noticed thinly hidden grief and pain in his eyes.
"Good morning. I called Stan and told him we wouldn't be in today."
She waved the Hot Pocket at him before lobbing it to him followed by a nod towards the microwave. "I also bought you some watermelon slices. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you everything will be okay. But I will be there to help you along the way, to keep your head above water."
She moved past him to pick up her cup of coffee as she continued, "Until you are ready for us to celebrating the life of one Eugene Frederick Miller."
Marshall's hand reached and gave her hand a grateful squeeze as tears pricked his eyes at her words. Once he had regained his composure he took a savoring sip of his coffee, "Is that cinnamon I taste?' he wondered.
\\/\/\/\/\/ /
"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love."
- Washington Irving