Day 4: First Time or Last Time
His
The first time he held her had been instinctive; his body had just moved. He hadn't understood her back then, and hadn't known if he even fully trusted her yet.
She hadn't abandoned them though, had even stood against the lightning freak and protected their friends with him. That counted for something. He hadn't been able to protect her from the attack, but he could break her fall. He could be the last thing she saw, the last thing she felt, before the pain stole her consciousness away from her. He could alleviate even a small piece of her never-ending fears and doubts by letting her know that he was with her, that he wasn't abandoning her. Her body, burned and broken in his arms felt much closer to a that of a corpse than an actual person, which terrified him. Had he already lost her? He doubted she even realized she was in his arms after suffering such a devastating attack with no time to prepare for it. Her head had dropped back sickeningly as smoke rose from the burnt remains of her previously unblemished tan skin as he tried to set her down as gently as possible. He had hoped it wouldn't be the last time he could fight for her.
The first time he held her had been instinctive.
Hers
The first time she held him had been desperate. The end had seemed all too close when her arms had started pulling him towards safety. The attempt had been futile, she knew that before even trying it, but she hadn't had any other choice. She had to try something, anything, to get him away from yet another admiral that seemed determined to take her family, her home, away from her. His body was bleeding and exhausted, broken beyond what any normal human should be able to live through, yet alone stay conscious with. He had done it though. She could feel his shaky breaths through her phantom hands as she rolled him, could see the pain etched across his normally confident, handsome face as he felt every jolt send a wave of pain through the tattered remains of his body.
The first time she had held him, she had thought it would be the last. She had failed to get him away, to save him from the threat that was determined to annihilate them along with the rest of their friends. He had been stomped into the ground, the last bit of strength leaving his body as she helplessly tried to tug him towards her. She had hoped it gave him some comfort to know that they had tried to save him. That they hadn't given up yet. Her arms were the last thing, the only thing, he could feel aside from Kizaru's deadly light. She had hoped that he would remember that as his life faded as opposed to the pain of the end.
The first time she held him had been desperate.
Theirs
It was hard to remember the times before now, when they had been little more than mutual companions along the same voyage. The bond of their crew had brought them together, had made them fight for each other; things were different now.
His hands tangled in her hair and the silky fabric of her nightdress as he pulled her ever closer. Hers ran along the contours of his back, one of the only unmarred patches of skin on his body, as she tucked her head beneath his chin. The sensations felt all too familiar now after years of growing acquainted with the feel of each others' body in their arms. The touches were practiced and inviting, the warmth a comforting presence, the hold a nightly ritual. They fell asleep in the others' embrace, rocked to sleep by their lover's gentle breathing and the scent they had become accustomed to.
At night they held each other, the day little more than a small interruption until they could return to the sanctuary of their bedroom and drift off beside each other once again as the day drew to a close.
A/N: Got this idea and couldn't sleep until I got it up. Actually am getting this up before Day 5 starts. :) Day 3's prompt will probably come up in another chapter since it's a little more abstract and I wanna really think about it. Enjoy, you guys! :)
