A/N This is another drabble I did for the Ultimate fic Challenge-you're going to be getting about another 90 of them. ;) There are some that I have already written that fit (On Sleepless Roads fits the topic of Death, for example)...enjoy it! Oh, and I don't own them, so don't sue.
He moved with such lissome grace, there was something about him that drew your eye to him, whether you wanted to or not, the way he moved just called attention to him, he had such a natural presence that made you want him, made you want to love him, made you want to chain him to the nearest bed.
She didn't need the chains though, she had him all to herself. It was funny, if someone saw him just in passing they would never know the full extent of his presence. They would never hear that rough, gravelly voice that sent shivers down her spine when she heard it, they would never spend enough time with him to be amazed at how an average looking man could be so downright sexy.
And not just physically. There was a sharp wit that kept a grin on her face-he could cheer her up when no one else could, making snide comments about everyone and anyone who dared to cross him. The cynical streak in him that kept her grounded-he was always the last one to agree to her hackneyed plans, always the one to tell her they were a bad idea.
But down beneath the cold exterior, he had a heart-a cynic with a heart of gold, that's what she called him. She loved him for it. He would never admit those things that he did, never admit that he was really a nice guy, never admit that deep down inside he was a softie, but she knew him, she knew he was.
She knew how gentle, how kind he could be. She had seen him pay for funerals himself, pass along an illegal heart to someone who needed it, donate entire paychecks to various charities, he was a nice guy who tried to hide it. But he didn't need to around her, she was the one that he let his guard down with.
She sat there, curled against him, making a mental list of all the things that she loved about him. She loved the way that he breathed, loved his scent, loved the way that he sat-taking up as much space as possible without slouching, forcing others out of the way, everyone except for her.
He was hers, and she was his. He was the one that made her day great. He was the one person that she could never stop watching, she always enjoyed observing him, watching the way that he did everything with such deliberate grace, confidence bordering on arrogance, taking in every subtle movement and loving every single one.
He was the one that she loved, for every little thing about him.