AN: This was inspired by a waist-down photo of a guy and girl in dress clothes, lying on a Persian rug in a formal living room. The 'no quote marks' style is deliberate.
Nine: Teatime
Gordon and Penny navigate their long-distance relationship.
How've you been? he asks, accepting a cup from her (two sugars, no cream, madeline on the side).
Oh, just fine, she replies, pouring herself a cup. Been busy. And you?
Same, same, he says. The morsel of cake is gone in two bites; he reaches for another and she goes to fetch it for him.
Their hands meet over the tray. Fingers tentatively slide together, tanned skin beside pearl pink polish.
Aw, Pen, he murmurs. I've missed you.
She looks up, eyes brimming with tears. She talks to him most days, but it's the feel of him, the sound and scent of him that calms the ever-present ache of his absence. Now that he's here, she can only sit and be overwhelmed by how real he is.
He sets aside his cup and takes her face into his hands, brushing away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. When he speaks, after a long moment of just looking at her, his voice is barely above a whisper.
Don't cry, Pen. I'm here.
They melt to the carpet. Parker, in his infinite wisdom, doesn't disturb them until dinner.
