[Headcanon: esteljune:
I imagine Connor/Ratonhnhaké:ton as the type that would watch you while you're reading or you're concentrating on something, with an intense and frowning look as if he's intrigued and amazed by you..]
...
i.
At first, it was weird. You couldn't believe your eyes. Connor was casually leaning on the kitchen's door frame, silently watching you. When he approached the premise half an hour ago, you thought he just wanted to greet you or get a glass of water, since he'd been training for long hours and might be thirsty. But he did neither of these things. He just stopped in the entrance, crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned onto the door frame. You turn back slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye. Though he doesn't smile back when you send a confused one of your own to him, his features seems calm, content even. It's like he's pleased with the scene in front of him. Glad, that there's someone puttering about in the kitchen. You hope he likes the fact that you are the one who's running the cooking area. When you're sure that he'll most likely remain mute, you turn back and continue preparing dinner for him. He stays there, stock-still, watching you quietly.
ii.
The second time was just as unexpected as the first but it didn't really confuse you anymore. You were just about to head back into the mansion after a short stroll around the homestead, but stopped when Connor's horse whinnied, and after getting your attention, crossed the yard and trotted up to you.
"Hey, beautiful." You say, patting her gently on the neck. "What do you say to a nice grooming, hmm?" You smile at the mare, amazed by her intelligent gaze and usher her into the stable. You're in the midst of cleaning her horseshoe when Connor passes by the stalls, swearing under his breath.
"Ah, Connor, good morning!" You call after him, not really sure whether to go after him and ask what's bothering him or ignore the matter and turn your full attention back to the horse. You get your answer rather soon, because Connor turns around and enters the stable. He murmurs a quiet 'good morning' to you then puts his hand on the star on the mare's forehead, boring his eyes into hers. The horse stares back at her owner and you shook your head, smiling at the intimacy of the moment. After a bit of caressing and mumbling in his native language, Ratonhnhaké:ton leaves the animal and settles down on an upturned bucket. Normally he would help you tend to the horse, saying you shouldn't do this for him since he's the one using it, but now he's just staring at you, following your every movement, frowning a little to himself. He doesn't say a word, doesn't interrupt you with helpful suggestions or be a know-it-all and tell you how to do it better. You give him a sheepish smile and start to entertain the horse by letting her know the steps of grooming. Connor stays there, sitting on the metal bucket with his hands hanging between his knees, silently watching you.
iii.
The third, fourth, fifth and the many other occasions turn out to be the same. No matter what you're currently doing, be it hanging the freshly washed clothes, sweeping, gardening, chatting in the inn with the other homesteaders, playing with the dogs, taking a walk with little Hunter and Prudence or just simply sitting in front of your vanity and combing your hair, he's there, watching you quietly, deep in thought.
But this time, when you're reading your favorite book, comfortably lying on the couch and he's poking the fire he started in the hearth, you cannot sit there in utter silence and let the matter slide again. You slap the book shut, this way catching his attention and look at him expectantly. He's confused, doesn't really know what to do, where to look and mostly what to say, if there is something to say at all. You tilt your head, sending the message 'I'm waiting' with the motion. Connor scowls. You throw your hands up in exasperation, book still in your right one, and go for a sitting position.
"You're never going to tell me what you're thinking about, right?" The young man arches an eyebrow at you in question. "It would be nice of you to talk at times. You know, instead of just observing."
"What do you want me to say?" He finally asks. You sigh in relief and chuckle.
"Anything, really. I thought we're friends."
"We are."
"Then why do you always stay silent? I really like you."
"I like you too."
"Then talk to me. We don't have to chat all the time, just occasionally."
"I understand." He looks away for just a fleeting moment then returns his gaze and smiles at you faintly. "I will try my best." You nod at him, re-open your book and start its 14th chapter, a gentle expression spreading over your face. When you're on page 197, a thought hits you and you suddenly shoot up from your cozy position and waltz up to the native man. He glances up at you, surprised to see you leaning closer to him. He slightly draws back but not that noticeably for it to be hurtful, and holds back his breath. You're so close that your lips almost touch his ear and you can smell that enticing scent that seems to linger around the house all the time. You take a deep breath and a crooked smile pulls onto your lips.
"Thank you for just being with me."