The Shirt Chronicles
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the W.i.t.c.h. characters.
Time Period: Five years after the second season, meaning that Will and Matt are nineteen.
Will was lying on the bed she shared with Matt, resting her head on the comforter. She was covered by a brown fleece blanket that was silky soft on her bare skin. Her position added to her relaxation; she was lying on her stomach, stretched out comfortably, and staring at the foot of the bed. Above her, Matt was nestled in the chaotic sheets and probably reposing against the headboard. She didn't know for sure.
The young couple had been silent for the past few minutes, content to be in the presence of one another and not requiring anything else. Will closed her eyes and was about to rest her head on her folded arms when Matt shifted around in bed. His movements stopped, and he settled beside her, tugging on the blanket, and pulling part of it over his own body. She couldn't fight the faint smile that spread over her face as he began stroking her back.
"What's up, beautiful?" he inquired, gently taking her bandaged right wrist into his hand. His eyes surveyed the tan bandage that had a rim of dirt around the very top. It was fastened snugly over her arm. He hoped that she was all right.
Will had broken her wrist nine weeks earlier when she had ridden off a bike ramp. Instead of landing gracefully like she usually did, she had wiped out, landing violently on the ground. Her body had been squashed under the weight of her bike, and her limbs were splayed out awkwardly; save for one wrist, which was bent inward towards her forearm in an agonizing contortion.
She wore a cast for eight weeks, refraining from any type of activity that would intensify the injury. After that period had expired, Will's cast was removed and replaced with a bandage that she had to wear for two weeks, with another strict admonition from the doctor to exercise caution.
So she had. As tempted as Will was to push the limits, she resisted her urges whenever she thought about riding off bike ramps or going down to the BMX trail that was close to their apartment. She resisted solely because she voiced her desires aloud to Matt, (another suggestion from the doctor) who talked her down. Matt had also taken care of her. He helped Will with tasks that proved to be a challenge and found ways to occupy their time that would take her mind off of bikes.
Shaking his head, he rid himself of his temporary reflections, pulling himself to the present to focus on her answer. "Not much. Just chilling. This is nice."
"Mmmhmm. How's the wrist?" He kissed a spot that was slightly below the bandage.
"Not bad. The same as yesterday," Will answered, her sentiment unhelpful.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It's fine, Matt. It isn't hurting."
"Good."
"You don't need to worry. That's sweet, though."
"Of course I worry. I've got a daredevil for a girlfriend."
"That could spice up our sex life if you want it to."
"That'd be fun. It can wait until your wrist is all better. Kink can't be good for a recovering wrist."
She laughed. "No, it probably isn't." Will snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder and relishing in the feeling of their bare bodies pressed together. He trailed a hand up her side from her hip to the top of her waist and then back again.
"You're right, this is nice," Matt muttered, glad to have her in his arms.
"Nothing beats cuddling under a warm blanket," she whispered, kissing his collarbone.
He smiled suggestively and arched an eyebrow. "I can think of a number of things that beat cuddling under a warm blanket."
"That's because you're a perv." She lightly punched him in the chest with her uninjured hand.
"Hey, I like this, too." The two of them succumbed to muteness again, happy to let the time dwindle away in each other's arms. After a while, Matt let his mind wander upon noticing their clothes scattered throughout the room. It occurred to him that Will would look cute in his shirt. "Babe?" he prompted.
"Uh huh?"
"You should put my shirt on. You'd look cute."
"'Kay." Will moved from beneath the blanket, letting it slither down her body and pool at the bottom of her legs. She retrieved his navy blue shirt from the floor and slipped it on. Her medium length hair skimmed against the fabric as she slowly turned in a circle, modeling her outfit for him. "How do I look?"
"Adorable. All you need is my old fisherman's hat and my guitar and you'll be the female version of me," he said with a trace of sarcasm and chortled.
Will laughed. "I'm not so sure about that."
"You still look sexy." She grinned softly and crawled back into bed, immersing herself in a feeling of wholeness that could only come from being in his hold.
Something about his words triggered a sensation of giddiness to radiate throughout her body and made her entire being feel light. Perhaps it was his previous concern for her wrist – even though she resented it at times, it also made her feel loved and accentuated her own love for him – combined with his thoughtfulness; it provoked an elation that was so consuming, and so unique that Will never wanted to let go of it.
"Matt." His name came out in a tender voice that seemed to echo her gratefulness; her gratefulness for his compliments, and beyond that, his support, which made her feel revered. That stood when it came to all the times he'd been there for her since age thirteen, and even over the course of the past nine weeks.
She was always present to return the favor, when it came the dire matters such as protecting him as a teenager when he was powerless, careening after her into battle, attempting to defend her, and initially failing. Or when it came to the small things like helping him when the precocious dogs at his grandfather's pet shop escaped from their kennels.
That's what their relationship would always be: give and take, live and learn, and assisting one another when the other was down.
Propping herself up on her elbow, Will sighed, her eyes closing as Matt massaged her wrist, demonstrating a careful awareness with his tender touch. She bit back a grin as she thought, This... This is peace.
And it was. Will felt a sense of peace as she snuggled with her Matt, her compassionate Matt, clad in nothing but his shirt. But it wasn't just any peace. It was peace in the truest sense of the word. A feeling that had been earned after years filled with trials and triumphs, and the echoing results of those triumphs. And no matter how many times Will experienced this very sensation, she knew it would never get old.
Author's Note: The inspiration for this drabbleshot came from a Gwen/Kevin fanart on deviantART. In the picture Gwen is wearing Kevin's t-shirt. From the moment that I saw the drawing I knew that I had to write a drabble or a short one shot in which Will wore Matt's t-shirt. The mental image was just too cute, simple, and lovely to pass up. ;)