Disclaimer: all creative rights to the One Tree Hill characters belong to their original creator(s)!
I'm glad that we have an outlet that allows us to expound on the Naley storyline when the show didn't satisfy our appetite. I loved Season 4, but I wish we'd had more of Naley without all the crazy drama that went on in that season. In this piece, I just wanted them to spend some time together. Nothing fancy, and I do hope you like it.
His mouth curls slightly to the side as she paces the short distance between the walls.
To and fro, to and fro.
Fascinated, he studies the way her mouth opens with intention to speak, but instead she huffs out and growls.
She's obviously irritated.
Haley knows that he has groupies. Known it for ages, and she's very well aware of the effect he has on the opposite sex. He's popular, he's an athlete, and he's hot.
Her jealousy is under control, always is, but there are days it is tried and tested and she can't help but give in to that gnawing feeling when some girl throws herself at her husband.
Husband.
Sometimes she can't believe that they're married. In high school. They were probably high when they did it. High on love.
She grunts softly at the cheesy thought.
Pausing midway through another stride, she turns to face him fully, breathing out and rolling her ring around her finger. It doesn't feel too tight today.
He looks so relaxed, leaning back as he is with one foot propped up on the wall while staring at her in amusement. Her eyes look past his shoulder to the small dent in the white wall behind him.
"Doesn't it bother you?"
It sounds like an accusation, she knows, as if he has done something wrong or shameful.
She can't help it. Her emotions are all over the place nowadays, those insecurities creeping up when some things happen, her jealousy growing like two mammoth horns on her temple.
The uncertainties shouldn't bother her since he's with her, not them, but comparing herself to the human Barbies is not something she can squelch easily. Especially these days. She's working on it but she would be lying if she said she's completely over the comparison game.
Before him, she'd roll her eyes at those bathroom moments where screaming girls slapped each other silly over boys. She'd bite her tongue to keep from retorting with something nasty over girls who came off as possessive over their boyfriends. She'd snort whenever a girl would breathe out a boy's name, as if performing some satanic ritual.
That was all before him.
Fast forward to now and she's the one thinking of marching over to that…tramp and ripping her face off. Where's the respect for others' relationships? Where are the freaking boundaries?
Watching her, Nathan knows he shouldn't blow this away nonchalantly, but he doesn't want her to blow it out of proportion either. Especially these days.
He needs to tread carefully; he's used to stuff like that but she isn't. It got worse after they got married. People really do want what they can't have.
He was her first everything relationship-wise, boyfriend and lover. He respects that, he appreciates that, and mostly, he's awed by it.
They were from opposite social circles, he the popular athlete, she the studious tutor, but it didn't matter when they got together. It intimidated him, though, her innocence in all aspects of relationships, and sometimes he was scared that he would ruin her.
He didn't know he was capable of being faithful until he met her. Lord knows he cheated on his 'girlfriends' but with her…no one can hold a candle to her.
He didn't know he could be so overwhelmingly protective over anyone. He didn't know he had a jealous creature hiding away in him the size of Brazil, a creature that is awakened when he sees her laughing over something any guy but him says to her. Even her best friend, his brother.
He didn't know he would love someone so much that just the thought of them turns his insides into a marshmallow. He didn't even think he had a gooey, marshmallow side.
They've been married for a year but they still act like newlyweds. Maybe their teenage hormones have something to do with it, or Haley's pregnancy hormones, but they're always touching, always whispering, always being told to quit being disgusting.
It's actually quite unbelievable that Nathan Scott is a gentle soul but from the way he is with his wife, that gentleness is like a gift preserved just for her. She is his everything now, the person he loves the most on the planet.
He wants to make her feel better, not to demean or dismiss her feelings like it's just a silly thought on her part.
"It's one thing for girls to sneak their numbers into your pocket but for that little snot to reveal her breast?"
She snarls out those last words, trying to get her emotions in check. What self-respecting woman does that?
Nathan chuckles silently. That little snot? She's probably refraining herself from saying worse, potty mouth that she can be.
"Hales, I signed her bra, not her breast."
She snaps, her eyes cold as she stares at him.
"Are you on her side? Did you want to do something? What if I wasn't standing here?"
He rolls his eyes at her melodrama.
"You need to take me seriously, Nathan! These girls can do stuff to you!"
He bursts out in a loud laugh. "They would be very unsuccessful because there is only one woman who makes my—"
"Nathan!"
She's blushing a deep scarlet, her eyes darting nervously around the empty hallway.
He laughs again at her amusing apprehension. "What? I was going to say that there is only one woman who makes my heart race."
Playfully, he narrows his eyes at her. "Were you being a pervert, Haley James?"
"No!" she whispers, her face feeling extremely hot, like she's swallowed a few chilies.
"Sure you weren't," he winks. "Baby, come here."
"Why?"
"Don't play hard to get. You know I'll get to you before you even get to that fire extinguisher," he says, jutting his chin at the red apparatus a little ways down the hall.
She gasps. "Are you saying I'm too…too fat to run?"
"You know, all your talk about being fat always feels like some sort of test," he mutters.
"Well, I never!"
"Don't be such a grandma. Come here."
Throwing her arms in the air, she screeches, "Oh my God!"
"I love how sexy you get when I irritate you. The way your bre—"
"Nathan!"
Her face must be beet red by now. He says the sweetest things and even after all this time together, he still manages to make her blush. All it takes is a word, a look, a touch.
"If you don't quit blushing, you'll be placing me in a very hard position."
"Oh, God."
Laughing, he pulls her by the hand and pushes her gently to the wall, reaching around to grab her denim-clad bottom.
She squeals, feeling flush, looking around them quickly before rubbing herself against him. He practically growls.
"First of all, I'm really glad you're here. Secondly, I'm a little angry with you."
She tilts her head back, her large brown eyes shining. She looks so sweet and lovely that his heart rate increases, each beat echoing loudly in his ears. He wonders if she can hear it.
"Why? What did I do?"
He brushes the growing bangs away from her forehead with his fingers, tucking some loose strands behind her ear.
"You came after we agreed that you would stay home and relax."
"But you just said that you're glad I came."
His fingers travel down the side of her face, feeling the softness of her skin.
"Yes, I am, but I'm also mad that you didn't listen to me. What if there were a stampede, hm?"
She smiles widely. "We're not in the wild, babe."
"Maybe not. Not tonight," he says softly, seriously. "But this school has some pretty wild fans. The one time we played against them, we had to forfeit the game because we were ahead by two points. Two points."
"What?"
He nods. "Honest. They were animals, throwing stuff and insulting us. It was madness."
She doesn't say anything for a moment.
"Is it strange that I just got a craving for jerky?"
Amused, he laughs, kissing her cheek affectionately. "You're always strange."
"Hey!" she protests humorously.
"But I still like you," he continues, leaving a trail of kisses from her jaw to her throat.
"I love you. Only you. You get my heart beating so fast whenever I see you that I can't help but be mean to the groupies for stalling me. Some days like today, I'm not so lucky and they corner me to sign their bras."
She clutches his shirt, pulling her face away to look up at him. "It's happened before?"
"Yes, but whenever it gets weird, I tell them to back off."
"How weird are we talking?"
Loosening her hold on his shirt at his hesitation, she cocks her head to the side.
"Nathan?"
She'll badger him to death if he doesn't tell her.
"When they want to give them to me."
"When they want to give what to you?"
"You know."
She sticks her tongue out in a gagging motion.
Warily, she asks, "Have you ever kept any?"
After a short pause, he answers, "Way before we met."
They always tell each other the truth but it still hurts. Normally, snippets of his past don't bother her that much but nowadays, anything can turn her into a slobbering mess.
Just the other day, she rolled over to his empty side of the bed, and just laying her head on his pillow brought on an endless crying fit. And he'd only popped into the bathroom.
Nodding, she averts her eyes from his to look at the floor. "I trust you, Nathan. They just make me a little…distrustful," she admits quietly.
She means, insecure.
He gets it.
Touching his forehead against hers, he stretches out his arm above her head, palm resting on the wall, towering over her.
"I'm crazy about you, baby," he says quietly.
"Yeah?" she asks coyly, placing a soft kiss on his chin.
"Never doubt it. You're it for me, Haley Scott."
He splays his free hand on her abdomen. "Both of you."
"Speaking of, I really really gotta go to the bathroom," she says, shuffling on her feet.
The door leading into the boys' locker room opens, Lucas, Jake, Skills and Tim stepping out in their dress shirts and slacks.
She ducks under his arm, walking fast towards the ladies' room.
"Is she okay?" Luke asks, frowning slightly at the retreating form of his best friend. He's constantly worried that she's in labour.
Instead of rolling his eyes, Nathan opts to play a little.
"I…" he begins, looking somberly at his brother.
As usual, Lucas is instantly alarmed. "What is it, Nate? Is it the baby?"
"I told her I want a divorce."
How he can say that with a straight face is beyond him.
There is a long tense silence, no one moving at all. Lucas seems to want to bash Nathan's face in, Tim is grinning foolishly, Jake looks confused, and Skills anxious as they look back and forth between the brothers.
"You—"
"Boys, time to go," Coach Durham drawls as he steps out of the locker room, the rest of the team following behind him.
"Well? What are you waitin' for? Santa Claus?" he bellows. "Move!"
"Um, Coach, I'm leaving with Haley," the Ravens captain responds, looking back over his shoulder for his wife.
"Ain' that roman'ic," the coach says sarcastically. "Gentlemen, I presume Miz Scott is not married to all of you?"
Lucas, fists still clenched, face drained of color, walks away last, glaring at his brother all the while, jaw ticking.
Instead of laughing, Nathan throws him a wave just as Haley walks to him.
"Whew! That would have been disastrous. I think I had too many root beer floats," she says, circling an arm around his waist.
Looking back and forth between her husband and the hallway, she asks, "Who were you waving at?"
"Lucas," he smirks.
Knowing him, she narrows her eyes. "What did you do?"
"Nothing."
"Honey…"
He mumbles something about a course.
"What?"
"I told him that I asked you for a divorce."
She giggles, taking his hand as they walk down the corridor. "One of these days, he'll get you back."
His face creases into a frown. "How bad is his vengeance?"
She shakes her head, as if ridding herself of a thought. "Brutal."
He halts, stopping her by pulling at her hand. "How brutal?"
She shrugs.
"Hales."
"Let's just say that I never put green food colour in his shower head again."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
He chuckles, resuming their walk. "I need to give you a lesson on practical jokes."
"That was a very funny joke!"
"Yeah. When we were twelve."
"It's not my fault that you were busy exploring your manhood when the rest of us were doubling over with laughter."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Reaching underneath his shirt to touch his bare skin, she bites down on her lip while looking at him intently.
"You know what it means."
"You are such a tease," he says hoarsely.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she grins mischievously.
He bends to place a loud, wet kiss on her lips. "You know what it means. And how come I can't remember ever seeing Lucas looking green?"
She laughs, the sound bouncing off the walls. "Labour Day weekend. He spent it all taking showers in Karen's bathroom."
"All weekend? I'm so proud of you, you little minx!"
She stops mid-laughter, looking up at him seriously. "But then he mixed my lotion with mayo."
"No!" he gasps.
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes! I felt like a sandwich all day!"
"No!"
"Y—" She realizes what he's doing. "Stop mocking me!"
He laughs loudly, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I couldn't help it. Just to warn you, I'm pinning this whole divorce thing on you."
"Why?"
"He wouldn't hit a pregnant woman, who also happens to be his best friend."
"He won't buy it."
"I can be pretty convincing, don't you think so?" he smirks.
Rolling her eyes, she can't resist smiling. They got married at sixteen. He was pretty darn convincing.
"Are you tired?" he asks softly, rubbing the side of her stomach gently.
"Not too much. Baby's slee—" She feels a flutter.
"Did you feel that?" she asks with a grin.
"I did," he beams. "Hungry?"
Usually, when the baby wakes up, she gets hungry in a matter of minutes.
"You know it. How hard do you think it will be to find some jerky right now?"
"Are you still on that?"
"Am I still pregnant?"
Letting her walk in front of him, he pats her behind. "Gloriously so."
"You make me nervous when you say things like that."
"Why?"
They step out of the building, walking slowly towards the car park. The dimly lit lot is emptying out, with a handful of people and cars remaining.
"Pregnancy fetish comes to mind."
"Have you been listening to Peyton and Brooke? I've told you numerous times to tune out when they start making lewd suggestions."
She sighs wistfully. "Sometimes it's inevitable and unfortunate that I catch snippets."
"The dirty ones."
"Where do you think the ideas to try some new moves come from?" she laughs wickedly.
"Haley!" he exclaims. "We're recycling moves from those two?"
"Not more than one. Or two. And they don't know we do them."
"Oh? You don't talk about our sex life?"
"Of course not." She looks up at him suspiciously. "Do you?"
They approach the edge of the parking lot, the silhouette of their small car sitting beneath a huge tree.
"And have guys imagining all sorts of things about you?" He grunts. "I'm not crazy."
She snuggles against his side. "You're so sweet."
"I cannot believe that you drove here," he growls quietly as they stand beside the car.
"Are you still on that?" she mocks, zipping open her purse to dig for the keys.
"Funny. I'm still for the idea that you should be chained to a bed for a day. That way, you'll be forced to take it easy and sleep."
"And I'm still for the idea that you keep confusing me with a geriatric patient. I just dipped my toes into the second trimester. I'm far from bed rest."
"It doesn't matter. Couldn't you at least have hitched a ride with someone?" he asks, sounding exasperated.
Since he learned of the pregnancy, he just worries when she's doing things she doesn't have to.
"Peyton?"
"Hell, no. I barely trust her to get you around town in one piece."
She laughs, pulling out the car keys triumphantly after what feels like a treasure hunt. He reaches for them, just in time for her to pull away her fingers from his grasp.
"What are you doing?" she inquires incredulously.
"What do you mean what am I doing? What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing? Driving us home, that's what," she replies, a 'duh' expression on her face.
He reciprocates the look. "No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
"No."
"Yes." She turns her back to him, turning the key in the lock to open the door.
"Get in, will ya? I'm hungry."
She dumps her purse in the passenger seat before circling to the other side.
Leaning his hands on the roof of the car, he drums his fingers as he watches her unlock the door.
"I'm not comfortable with you driving, Hales."
"If this is about my vision, my glasses are only for reading."
"You're pregnant."
"And?"
Jimmying the key in the lock, it finally clicks open. She looks up at him, her palms resting on the roof.
"Please, Nathan? Just humour me. I never get to drive and I'm worried I'm becoming rusty," she pleads. "There'll be days you won't be available to drive the baby and me around and I want to make sure I still know how to steer. And frankly, I'm getting tired of asking for rides. I feel like a hitchhiker! And it's not a good look considering I'm pregnant."
He grins. How can he say no to such a cute dramatic face?
"Fine. But the mo—"
"Nathan!"
They both turn towards the voice, belonging to none other than the Triton cheerleader, star of The Bra Incident, who is stepping away from her group of cheerleading friends.
Shaking her head, Haley slips behind the wheel.
"Hey! Thought you'd already be at the party!" Her smile is white and blinding in the semi-darkness.
"No," Nathan states flatly.
"Too bad. I was looking forward to seeing you there. So what are you doing tonight? It's Friday a—"
"Is there something you wanted?" he interrupts, knowing full well what it is she wants. He's tired and just wants to go home. With his wife.
The cheerleader seems taken aback by his coldness.
"Um, are you alone? Or is the fat pregnant chick still around?"
His dislike for her heightens to loathing. He hates it when people bash Haley when they barely know her.
"Does she mean me, babe?" Haley asks.
Nathan leans down, looking at his wife as she rummages through the glove box.
"I don't know about fat but you're the only hot pregnant chick I know."
She grins up at him before focusing back on the contents of the compartment. "Good save. Where's my chocolate?"
"It was there this morning."
"Oh, shoot! I ate it before I came over! What am I supposed to do now? Does she have chocolate? Or jerky?"
He straightens, looking down at the somewhat dazed cheerleader. He wouldn't dare ask her for a drop of water after she just insulted his wife.
"No, she doesn't."
She looks uncomfortable from the fixed stare he's giving her.
"I think your friends are waiting for you."
Smiling unevenly, the cheerleader scurries off, giving him a half-wave before rejoining her friends.
Haley is mumbling about chocolate as he glides into his seat.
"Chocolate or jerky? Or maybe chocolate coated jerky? Mmmh…okay. That sounds promising. Ready, cowboy?" she asks, tugging her seatbelt.
"What was that? I thought this was your chance to give her a piece of your mind."
"I'm feeling mellow at the moment. I killed her with kindness."
"No, you killed her with your cravings."
"A very legitimate one. I decided to embrace the mockery."
"You shouldn't. No one has a right to insult you like that." There's a hard edge to his voice. He is extremely protective of her and it's one of the things she loves about him.
Inserting the key in the ignition, she throws him a wink. "Yes, Dr. Phil. I'm just too tired and hungry to care about her poor flirtation techniques. Are you set?"
He should be driving. "Too tired? Just let me drive, Hales."
She shakes her head, backing up the car slowly. "No. You already agreed to let me drive."
She presses down on the gas pedal, driving fast towards the school's entrance.
"Jesus, Haley! Are you trying to get us killed!"
One hand clutches the door handle, the other holds onto the dashboard. He's always nervous when she's behind the wheel.
"I was just doing a test run."
"A test run? For what? This is not the Grand Prix."
"I've always wanted to drag race."
"Hales."
"Relax. I'm always careful. Especially now," she assures him, patting her belly with one hand.
"I just forgot about that speed bump, that's all. Sorry, sweetie."
"It's okay."
"I was talking to the baby."
Just then, her phone rings to the tune of Beethoven's Ode to Joy.
"Could you please grab that for me?" Her hands are clutching the wheel tightly at ten and two as they drive down the main road towards the highway. Slowly. He swears she's at five miles per hour.
"It's Luke."
"You're in trouble," she sniggers. "But I have your back. Put it on loudspeaker."
"Haley? Haley! What the hell is going on with you and Nate!?" he shouts over the yelling and screaming in the background.
"What are you talking about?"
"A divorce!?"
Bored out of his mind, Nathan zips open her purse. Her driving is so slow that he could have counted the number of leaves on the withered shrub they just passed.
"Right. That. I was a little emotional about jerky and threatened him with divorce. But knowing how much of a sweetheart your brother is—"
"Stop."
She blows her husband an air kiss. "—he took the blame."
"Jerky? That's it? I thought it was something serious!"
"Jerky is very serious stuff, Lucas. Where are you?"
Peering into the dark hole, Nathan's hand automatically reaches in, pulling out a small, black purse that chinks when he jiggles it. Change.
"The bus. Where else?"
"Sounds like a party."
"Cheerleaders."
"Oh! Did Peyton hit someone?"
Before he can answer, Whitey Durham's booming voice echoes down the line.
"BREAK IT UP! I SAID BREAK IT UP!"
"I gotta go!"
While still holding the cell phone, Nathan pulls out a scarf from her bag and shakes it at her.
"What's this?"
She gives it a quick glance before hitting the turn signal. "Emergency scarf. Sometimes it can get too cold."
"And this?" He's holding a tube of toothpaste.
"Always be prepared," she grins. "There's a travel toothbrush and floss in my cosmetic bag, too."
"Hales, you have a tape recorder here."
She shrugs. "I get inspired with a tune and I'd rather not forget."
There's a reason why men keep away from women's purses.
On his lap are crumpled grocery receipts, pocket tissues, a hairbrush, notebook, umbrella, flashlight, an Algebra textbook, water bottle, pack of gum and a blue cosmetic bag. He's unwilling to look through that one.
"How can you carry this much stuff? Doesn't your back hurt?"
Steering the car onto the highway, she gives him a smile. "Remember all those times you've asked me for an extra pen?"
"You mean this is not everything?" he asks in amazement. How can there possibly be more things to add into this hole?
"Of course not," she scoffs. "You should see Peyton's. Or Brooke's. It's like a department store or a bathroom. When I was on tour, I carried a travel pillow with me everywhere, even to interviews."
"You're kidding."
"Truth. Sometimes it took a while for things to kick off and my neck hurt the most. I sure missed your massages," she sighs.
"You poor thing," he answers pitifully, making her laugh. "Babe, much as I love you, I'm no longer curious about some things."
"In a few months, you'll be the one carrying an even bigger bag. And it will be full of diapers and formula and you'll be more proud than embarrassed toting it around."
"As long as it's not in pink, I'm okay with it."
"But that's the one my grandmother sent."
"I've been wondering how to bring this up. Oh, yeah. I'm not doing pink."
"Here I thought you were comfortable with your sexuality," she giggles.
He bursts out laughing, putting away her things back in the purse. "The appointment's still on for tomorrow, yeah?"
"Yeah. What are you hoping for?"
Their ultrasound appointment is finally here and they want to know their baby's sex.
"A healthy baby."
"Come on, honey. You can do better than that," she cajoles.
"As long as we have a healthy baby, I'm fine."
"Just tell me. I won't judge."
He's quiet.
"I know I'm hoping for a boy."
"Hales, you're not supposed to say that. What if it's a girl? Will you not want her?"
She slaps his shoulder lightly with the back of her hand. "Of course not. I'm just saying that I'm secretly wishing for a boy. And it's no longer a secret, anyway. Just tell me?"
He doesn't.
"Please?"
"A boy," he grins.
"Me, too!"
"You said that," he laughs. "Then after—"
"Ah-ah. No way. No 'after' from you. I cannot think that far when I'm barely halfway with this one."
"You're already halfway. Come on, Hales. We talked about this, remember?"
"Not in great detail, we didn't."
"This is the best time for me to say that we should aim for a basketball team."
"I'm going to ignore that. I can't—"
An eighteen-wheeler whizzes past them, making them jump in their seats from its blaring horn.
"Jesus!" they both cry out, and then dissolve into laughter.
Tapping his fingers on the dashboard, Nathan points to the side of the road and says, "Okay. That's it. Pull over. We've established that a turtle would win against your driving."
"It's because it's dark. I drive better in daylight. You know that."
No, she doesn't, but he won't call her out on it.
"Hales, we'll never get home at this rate and I don't want a real divorce just because of jerky."
"You're just like your brother. Pregnancy cravings are serious, Nathan. You should be lucky I haven't woken you up in the middle of the night begging for ice-cream that we don't have."
"Are you scheming to wake me up in the middle of the night for ice-cream we don't have?" he asks skeptically.
"I'm not scheming!" she defends, feigning disbelief. "But it's inevitable at some point."
"Not unless you programme yourself out of it."
She flashes the blinker, guiding the car slowly onto the gravel on the side of the road.
He climbs over the centre console to get behind the wheel as she steps out to cross over to the passenger side.
"Are you seriously trying to talk me out of eating when your baby asks for it?" she grumbles as she buckles in.
"Our baby," he corrects.
"My baby," she counters, looking through the windshield. "I think there's a gas station somewhere close by. They may have jerky and I need to use the bathroom."
He can't help smiling. Taking her small hand and enclosing it in both of his, he kisses her palm, and then her ring.
The spontaneity, sweetness and tenderness of the gesture make her want to cry, a sniffle escaping her.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his blue eyes showing concern.
She nods, blinking back tears. "I just love you."
He smiles, kissing her palm again. "I was hoping you do."
She's still giggling when he leans over to kiss her. Her eyes flutter shut when his lips touch hers, his hands framing her soft face.
Gently, his tongue parts her lips slightly and at the first contact with the inside of her mouth, she gives an involuntary groan.
Tilting her head, her teeth part to slip her tongue out in search of his. Fiery hot, satiny soft, their tongues make contact, beginning to move hungrily together.
She leans into him as much as the seatbelt allows her to, her arms slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him down to her, a moan of pleasure at the back of her throat. There is a persistent urgency, an infatuation, as they devour and caress each other's tongue and lips.
Her hands are tugging at the hem of his shirt when he breaks his lips slowly from her, a groan of protest blaring in his head.
"We gotta go," he says breathlessly, huskily.
Her brown eyes look darker, her lips wet and a little swollen. When she runs her tongue over those perfect lips, he can't resist stealing a kiss, his tongue demanding and sliding into her mouth again to deepen the kiss.
And then he pulls away.
"Nathan…" she exhales shakily, her heart pounding and her throat feeling dry. His mouth is inches away from hers, his face is flushed, his breath warm and ragged.
He didn't want to stop either.
"I know."
His hands are shaking as he grips the steering wheel. Because she's pregnant, they cannot risk getting too carried away and continuing this in the car like they've done before.
Her hand slips under his shirt to touch his warm skin.
"I don't want jerky anymore," she purrs, the sound rolling out of her so sexy that he grips the wheel tighter.
"Oh my God," he hisses, trying to control himself. "I'm no longer mad that you're here."
Delightedly, she licks her lips, the movement not lost on him, her fingers still running over his stomach.
"You gotta stop doing that, Hales. We'll never leave," his voice light and feathery, yet strained, like other parts of him.
Pulling her hand out, she takes his, brushing her lips over the middle of his palm in a soft kiss.
He can't help but think how enthralling it is seeing her do it, a flood of awareness coming over him.
"I love you with my whole heart," she speaks quietly, affectionately, her thumb caressing his hand, complete adoration on her face.
His mouth breaks into a grin, like it's the first time she's saying it.
"I love you, too."
She raises his hand to her lips again and kisses it, placing it over her belly.
It's a small car. She moves around in her seat until her head is resting on his shoulder.
His lips touch her forehead, lingering there, the blended scent of her shampoo and perfume wafting under his nose.
Slipping his hand out from hers, he wraps it around her shoulders, tracing her cheek with his finger.
"All set?"
"All set," she sighs, eyes half closed.
She nestles into him, her hand over his heart as he glides the car onto the highway and aims for home.