Moments


Disclaimer: Characters, plot, awesomeness © Disney & Co. Mistakes © Moi.
Summary: Roger/Anita. Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.


Holding Hands

He really should be watching the show; he was the one who had suggested it after all. He had been anticipating it for some time now, La Boheme was perhaps his favorite opera and yet since he picked Anita up from her small flat near the Zoo he'd been distracted. To say the least. She was radiant. Despite having pushed her into a pond upon their first meeting she still agreed to see him… and see him again. They'd gone for coffee and taken the dogs for numerous walks. He'd never dreamed of meeting someone who loved the opera like he did. He'd never tell Pongo, but Roger couldn't be happier to have such a wayward hound.

The libretto he'd brought along slipped from her satin covered lap, sliding to the floor between their chairs. They both reached for it, their fingers brushing. She looked up into his eyes and gave him a small smile. In his chest Roger felt his heart do a slow roll then sit up and beg. They sat back up, Anita watching the show and Roger watching Anita.

She made no obvious move, her lovely face remained gazing at the stage; her posture was impeccable, as always. No the shift in their relationship was small. A simple gesture, her hand, which rested on the armrest between them, turned palm up, fingers bent naturally. Yet something about them said 'come hither.' With a mixture of uncertainty and compulsion Roger carefully placed his hand on hers. Their fingers twined and it was as if he had finally found the other half of his puzzle, her hand fit perfectly in his.

He had never understood the allure of holding hands. Now he did. Apparently when one held the 'right' hand the ordinary touch became extraordinary. The rest of the opera they remained this way, Roger's thumb softly stoking the smooth skin of her hand, her fingers gently squeezing his at her favorite parts of the show. Once the opera was over and he helped her into most her coat he sought her hand once again, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His octave and a half grip engulfed her smaller hand, it made him feel happy. A surge of chivalrous protection going through him. Anita was a wonderfully capable and independent woman, yet with her small hand in his he wanted nothing more than to protect her, take care of her. He lifted their hands and placed a chaste kiss across the cool, smooth back of her palm. She flushed slightly but smiled.

He wanted to take care of her… for the rest of their day… if she'd let him.