In honour of jilytober. Don't own anything.
Angels
Summary: Lily Evans is a lot of things, and James loves every last one of them.
Pairing: J/L
Word Count: 2,288
Rating: K+
The first night that she stays in his bed, he thinks that she's a miracle. He's wide awake, while the moonlight spills into the room from high in the clear sky, illuminating her face as she sleeps. It looks like a halo of light around Lily's head. He doesn't stir, except to settle a stray strand of hair that's caught across her face.
He could stare at her forever. She looks no different in sleep, except maybe more beautiful. Her face is peaceful and calm, the corners of her mouth tugged upwards in the smallest smile. His heart swells at the sight - she's content and comfortable, and it's with him, in his room, even if it is with three other boys in the neighbouring bunks.
Everything about her is a miracle, from the slow, calm rhythm of her breathing, to the steady beat of her heart. He stays as quiet as he can so he can hear it. The sound itself is more of a miracle than he could ever have dreamed of.
She's so beautiful. Her dark red hair fans out across the pillow, there's a low flush in her cheeks. Her long eyelashes cast fine shadows across her cheekbones with the aid of the moonlight. His heart nearly stops to think that she's actually here, in flesh and blood, and not a figment of his imagination. That's why he loves the sound of her heartbeat so much. It convinces him that she's real, and the thought invigorates him like a clap of thunder through his body.
He brushes his thumb over her cheekbone. Her skin is smooth and soft. She's so wonderfully warm. She's been in his head, in his thoughts and dreams, for such a long time, it seems utterly impossible that she's here now, with him. He still doesn't understand how all of this isn't some cosmic joke of the universe, even more of a mystery every time she looks at him and gives him a smile that is full of indisputable happiness. That smile is for him.
James doesn't know how long he watches her for. His body is pulled tight like a cord, muscles tight, every fibre of his being fully alert, and sleep seems like such a stupid option when Lily is lying right next to him, blissfully asleep. Sleeping is the last thing he wants to do. He's not foolish enough to miss a moment of this.
She opens her eyes slowly, but at the same time all of a sudden, and steals his breath as her eyes focus on him. Her expression is one of peaceful drowsiness, but her eyes are gleaming brightly, rivalling the moonlight.
"Hi," she mouths, turning her head so that she can kiss his palm, letting out a contented sigh.
He smiles at her softly, leaning over and kissing her forehead, her cheek, her nose, before planting a soft, open-mouthed kiss on her lips. He feels her lips spread into a wider smile under his mouth, and his heart begins to pound. Her breath is a little shaky.
"Go back to sleep," he whispers. She nods, shifting in the bed and curling over so she's tucked into his side with his arm firm around her. Her own arm is thrown across his chest, her head very close to his racing heart, just at the point where she can hear it strongest. Her thumb circles his collarbone for a few seconds; he shivers, and yet still feels soothed by the motion.
Her hand trails down his arm and grazes over his wrist, until her fingers intertwine with his. She plays idly with his fingers, both their hands laced together on his chest, until she falls asleep. And until he falls asleep, he keeps his gaze on her face, wondering what he did to deserve the miracle beside him.
On their wedding night, James thinks she's flawless. It's been such a long day, and even though they're both tired, Lily's eyes are still alive and bright. James could never have imagined the glowing expression she faced him with that afternoon, the surge of happiness that spread from his body and reached every crevice of his body.
He wants to imprint every moment of this day into his memory forever. There have been more hiccups throughout the day than either of them could have anticipated, but it's still one of the best days James has had in a long time. For one day, they could forget the war burning the world around them. Her hand stayed in his for most of the day, where it belonged. Their smiles were infectious. James couldn't have asked for a more perfect day. And now he could call her his wife. It felt like he'd been waiting for it forever.
James thought he'd be ready to flop into bed, but now that it's just the two of them, alone in their home, he's never felt more awake. He watches Lily from the doorway as she lets down her hair and removes her makeup, humming to herself. Her ring sparkles on her finger. He looks at it with a burst of pride and happiness. That's his wife, his wife, and she is so beautiful.
He grins, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. Her arms drape around his neck loosely and she blinks up at him happily. His hands rest on her waist, fingers pressing in just enough to pull her flush against his chest. His forehead touches hers and he sways them. She smiles, and a silent laugh makes her shoulders shake.
They're both quiet for a while, until she inclines her head an inch to the side and nudges his nose with hers. Her arm slips, her hand grips the back of his neck and slides slowly down to the side, her thumb anchoring on his cheek.
Her mouth meets his; blood boils underneath the skin that comes into contact with hers. It's so quiet, apart from the sound of their mingled breaths in between kisses, and the soft clucking sound when their lips break away for a moment.
His hands trail down her sides, clinging to the fabric of her dress. His mouth moves over her skin, every inch of it soft and smooth. Her lips aren't separate from the rest of her skin, from her cheeks or her jaw or her neck. It's all one, all connected, every part of her that his mouth reaches as intimate as her lips, it's all her. And she tastes like heaven, moonlight, starlight.
On the night of Harry's first Christmas, James thinks she's an angel. It's quiet by now, except for the comforting crackle of the fire, yet the echoes of Harry's delighted laughter still ring in the air. They couldn't have asked for a more perfect day.
Harry's new toys lay scattered around the living room floor. James sits on the rug with his back against the sofa. The fire crackles invitingly, and he turns to offer Lily something warm to drink.
But he stays quiet. She's laid out supine on the couch, and her smiling face is all shadow and light with the flickering light of the fire. And Harry, little Harry, is fast asleep, curled up on his mother's chest with her arm wrapped protectively around him. And they look perfect.
James surveys them silently for what could be minutes, could be hours, could be days for all he cares. He never dreamed he could care so much for someone in his entire life, that he could love someone more and more as time went on. He loves Lily a thousand times more than he did the first time he said it, or on their wedding day, or their first anniversary.
He loves Lily for every part of her that makes up who she is. But the biggest change is the little boy cuddled into her. He loves Lily more than anything from bringing him his son. It wasn't planned or premeditated, but from the moment Harry had arrived, he had stolen James' heart in one blink of an eye, and every day, he tells Lily how grateful he is, how much he loves her for taking such good care of their son while she carried him.
When he first started going out with Lily, what had happened to him was nothing short of a miracle in the form of another person, the only thing he needed, but needed desperately. Now, as he watches them both sleep, worn out no doubt from the day's activities, he knows better.
She is an angel, and she was sent to bring him another miracle, another miracle whose eyes are so like his mother's it takes his breath away every day. This is his family, and he has Lily to thank for it, and it is all that matters anymore.
Silently, he picks Harry up and carries him upstairs to his cot. The infant fits so perfectly into his arms, his tiny hand curling tightly around the fabric of James' shirt while he sleeps on. James tucks him in tightly and stares down at him for a few moments. He can barely remember his life before Harry, and he can't imagine a life onwards without Harry. It's not as much a feeling that something was missing in his life before Harry was born, but rather an idea, which he entertains with conviction, that his whole life has been leading up to this, waiting for Lily and Harry.
After he watches him sleep for a few minutes – every break in another miracle, every breath out another miracle, the peaceful expression another miracle, his hands curling around the blankets another miracle – he creeps downstairs and kneels in front of Lily, brushing her hair back. She jerks awake, a sudden convulsion that seems out of place in the tranquil ambiance. But she relaxes once her eyes focus on his face, and smiles tiredly.
"Hi, angel," he murmurs, kissing her forehead.
She yawns widely, and James takes her to bed in his arms since she's too sleepy to move, but there isn't room for two of them on that couch and he loves sleeping beside her, her constant presence at his side and waking up to watch the sunlight slowly spread over her face, and see her smile at him first thing in the morning and it outshines the sun without even trying. Sleeping next to her is where he belongs.
In the last few moments of his life, James thinks of his wife. They're young, it's true, but he has always known that their love was real and stronger. Death would not sever the connection between them, and though it breaks his heart to think that he won't grow old with her, he welcomes the possibility that Lily may live a long healthy life, even if it's without him. He would do anything for her, and that does not stop at dying, and he can die knowing that Harry will grow up with the best mother in the world.
He loves her and their son, and if there is something there when this world is stripped away to reveal whatever comes next, he will love them then. It is a far greater thing to do than he has ever done, to lay down his life so that their son can have his, so Lily can live hers.
In the last few moments before he dies, James thinks that his wife is the best thing that ever happened to him. She is a miracle, and she is flawless, and she is an angel. She is a gift, and she's the purest thing in his life, and she's his whole world. She's all of these things and none of them at once, because the most beautiful thing about his wife is that she's human, and the way she touches other people's lives is not other-worldly. The beauty she brings to the lives of people around her is a simple one; her small gestures of kindness that seem so big at the same time, her compassion, her strength.
She has no great power or ability that is more than anyone around her, that is subhuman or superhuman or anything beyond human. She just uses the ability bestowed on everyone, and uses it better than most. She simply loves more than any other being he has ever known, and the most beautiful thing about her greatest power is that it is no great power at all. It comes from within her, and it costs her nothing, and she does it without even thinking.
She may be his angel, and a miracle, but the most wonderful thing about her is that she is a person, a loving being at its purest form, and she is the greatest partner in life he could ask for, a companion, no more and no less than him.
He doesn't know exactly what Lily Evans is or why he was meant to be with her. He only knows that he was meant to be with her. In the last breaths he takes, James thinks that his wife is the most wonderful person he has ever known in his short life, and the child they have together will grow to be just as wonderful.
Lily Evans made him happier than he could ever imagine. She changed him in ways he can't describe, and he has loved her insurmountably. All he knows, as he faces his death, is that he was lucky for every last moment he got with her, and he is damn lucky to have loved the amazing person that she is, and to have been loved in return, until the very end.
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