The cup that held the coffee was delicate and decorated with a pretty print. Not anything like the plain, made for purpose mugs they used at home, ones that were used to being slammed down, knocked about and chipped. No.
Her fingers had to curve into the well-crafted slope of the handle and it felt a bit unnatural. But it was nice, she had to admit, the feel of her fingers resting against the porcelain's dewy glaze.
It was the little things.
The fact that the shirt she was wearing-his shirt- had a little label with a load of gibberish on it. Italian he'd told her, as if reading her mind. Italian. And although she couldn't make much sense of it, she'd bet anything it didn't read non-crease or easy iron.
The fact that the house he grew up in had its own staircase and a bloody grand one at that. It wound itself up multiple flights, not including the basement and the attic that the Boss said he'd show her some time.
The fact that his bed was big enough for her whole family to kip in. Or for him to roll her around any which way he wanted. Not a bunk bed just snug enough for one.
It was different, Molly decided. But it didn't seem to matter- wasn't a big fucking elephant in the room. Not with him. The differences just melted away.
It was just…easy.
Today he was going to give her the grand tour, so he said. Bloody grand indeed she'd thought when he'd announced his plans for the day and handed her a cup of Rosabaya.
Molly looked towards the nightstand. From her place on the edge of the bed, she could easily see the fluorescent flash of her phone screen, signalling she'd got a new text.
10.25am. Mum.
Molly had quickly messaged her last night, telling her not to worry and that she was staying with a friend.
The response had been almost instant, instructing her to be safe and to have a good time.
Pulling up the new message, Molly sighed.
'Just checking you're alright Love. Say Hello to Smurf.'
If that wasn't enough, her Mum had punctuated the assumption with a wink.
A bloody wink.
"What's the sigh for?"
Turning, Molly saw that Charles was off the phone and leaning on the doorframe like he owned the place. Technically, he did. Nice place too.
"Just Mum."
He sent her a small smile. She'd looked beautiful against the backdrop of the desert, but nothing beat the way she looked this morning. Rumpled yet refreshed, at home in his bed.
"She wondering where you are?" He didn't know many details about her family, but it was clear she was close with her Mum.
Molly didn't want to bring up that her Mum thought she was holed up somewhere with Smurf; she wanted to preserve the moment and keep it for herself. Just easiness. Just the two of them enjoying each other. No drama.
"Yeah. Probably worried I've sacked in the army to become a brass," she shot back, deflecting.
Charles laughed, bright eyes shining and Molly unfolded her limbs. She made her way towards him. Magnetic, that's what he was. Chemistry without a doubt.
She stood in front of him now, one hand grasping the cup, careful not to drop it on the cream carpet. God forbid. Her other hand rested comfortably over his shirt, fingers playing with the buttons, soldiers lined up in a perfect row.
"You never know," Molly looked up at the teasing lilt of his voice. "You could probably charge more, what with your Military Cross."
And then he had the cheek to wink. Smug prick.
The buttons protested weakly against her palm.
"Excuse me! Less of the hitting, please." The Captain didn't flinch, not one bit.
"Well I can hardly kick a bleedin' invalid, now can I?"
His head was slanted back, eyes tucking in tenderly at the edges. Molly completely loved that sound. His laugh, all carefree and relaxed.
Dropping his chin down and raising his eyes, Charles smirked and her breath caught. She'd have to get that under control she decided. His arsenal of expressions seemed to be making her more breathless than the Afghan heat.
"No," he murmured lowly whilst cajoling a strand of her hair round his finger, eyes roving her face. "But you didn't mind practically paralysing me last night."
Swallowing, Molly held onto the mug tighter, restraining herself. She'd have to tie her hands down, what with all the things they wanted to do, places they wanted to wander.
"I think you've got things muddled. Any after effects from last night would be self inflicted."
"Is that right, Molly?"
He leaned down, giving her a short, fleeting kiss – eyes open and intimate.
"Who's the medic here?" she teased as he pulled away. Her brow raised in mock strop.
"Well," Charles said whilst curving an arm round her, fisting his hand into the fabric of his shirt that hugged her waist. "I guess I'll just have to kidnap you, keep you here to nurse me back to health. Since you're such a good medic."
Giggling (a foreign sound she seemed to be making a lot around him) and warmed all over by his attention, Molly raised her eyes and smiled up at him cheekily. An imp in her Captain's clothing. Her dimple flashed under the raised apple of her cheek.
"Guess so, Sir."
Another shortish filler, more plot to come by the end of the week! Thanks again for all the views, follows, faves and the lovely feedback! xo