(A/N: Ever start writing something, then it takes off in a completely different direction than you planned? Me too, apparently, because this is not how this started at all. I had planned for smut, and this isn't it, haha. But, I hope you enjoy it! Let's set this in the summer of 2021 and pretend the whole BLQ baby truth is out and over. As for Peter, I don't care. Maybe he fell into a hole somewhere, but he ain't in this fic. Haha.)
They are not in a relationship, Anna thinks to herself while staring at her bedroom ceiling.
Robert scoffs every time Anna insists that she and Valentin aren't in a relationship. Valentin is easily one of the last men on earth that Robert would choose for Anna; of course, Robert seems to think that only he himself is good enough for Anna, yet they haven't been together in decades, so what is that supposed to tell her?
Fine, Robert tells her, if you want a narcissistic psychopath for a boyfriend, that's your business. You have terrible taste in men.When she gives him a pointed look, he quickly adds that present company is excluded.
But Valentin is not her boyfriend.
Right. How have you not noticed that the man has moved in with you, Annie?
There are hints of Valentin around her home. That much she can admit. At some point, without her even noticing, a shaving kit appeared on the bare side of the double vanity in her bathroom. A couple of his dark suits hang in her closet in stark contrast to her colorfully printed chiffon blouses. The distinct, woodsy scent of his cologne seems to grace her sheets no matter how often she washes them; probably because they no sooner leave her dryer than he slips between them with her again.
But Valentin has not moved in with her. He may have a key to the house, but he maintains his residence at the Metro Court, especially when it is his turn to have Charlotte, who doesn't seem bothered that Anna and her papa are spending so much time together. They have not told Charlotte they are a couple because they aren't.
Why does Anna need to put a label on anything? Labels only serve as complications. She has tried them. Boyfriend. Fiancé. Husband. What does she have left to show for any of them other than having her heart broken repeatedly?
Anna hates the term "friends with benefits" and that doesn't exactly fit them either. Enjoying dinner together, talking about the ridiculous lives they have lived while drinking wine on the porch under the stars, pleasuring each other all night until they're exhausted, sated, and collapsed into a warm nude embrace... Friends with benefits don't share that kind of intimacy, do they?
She's pretty certain that a "friend with benefits" wouldn't select and place the fragrant blooms that appear on her bedside table a couple of times a week. Valentin is more like a companion, though Anna thinks that makes him sound too much like a golden retriever. Dogs don't wash your hair in the shower while softly singing little songs in your ear.
Valentin is a hopeless romantic, for sure; his name suits him. He has made no secret of the torch that he carries for her; the one he has carried for so many years that it has to have gotten heavy. Anna knows that he loves her. She doesn't know how to describe the feelings she has for him other than she obviously does have a certain affection for him.
Physically, there's no question that they share something special. Those long fingers of his, so adept at playing the piano, can play her body like an instrument, teasing moans from her throat and explosions from between her trembling legs. And his mouth? Just as talented. She bites her lip just thinking about how he can use his tongue to work her into a frenzy. He fills her so deeply that it's sometimes overwhelming.
Before she throws off the sheets, Anna looks over at Valentin's sleeping form. His hair is mussed from the previous night's activities and sleep, the bedhead look giving him a boyish charm that belies his actual age. Smiling, she runs her fingers through his short brown hair. Her lips brush against his forehead lightly.
Anna's usually awake in the morning a bit before he is and has a cup of tea ready for each of them by the time he comes downstairs. His is Earl Grey, two sugars, no milk. Anna scrunches her nose in disdain like she always does when she thinks about his cuppa preferences. It's like he never even spent all of those years in England.
As she starts to sit up, Valentin takes her by surprise, apparently not as asleep as she thought. He slips an arm around her slender waist and pulls her against his chest.
"Good morning, ma chérie." Valentin murmurs drowsily, running his fingertips up and down her back and making her spine tingle.
It is not lost on Anna that he says ma - my - but that simple possessive pronoun still doesn't mean they are in a relationship. Their dark eyes meet, and she sees the adoration he has for her shining in his. Anna knows this man has the capacity to be vengeful and even lethal, but she feels nothing but safety and comfort in his arms. She can take care of herself and most other people, but it becomes more exhausting the older she gets and the more people she has to protect.
Occasionally it's nice to feel protected herself.
Valentin notices that she's deep in thought. "A penny for your thoughts." He tugs lightly on a wave of her hair.
Anna smirks. "How cheap. I would think you could afford to pay more for them."
He laces her fingers between his and kisses the back of her hand. "I'll give you the world for them then."
"Nah, this is enough." Anna says, lying her head on his bare chest. He dips his chin down to rest atop her head. "I was just thinking about us."
"What about us?" Valentin murmurs into her hair.
"You just make me happy." Anna says in realization. "That's all."
She feels his mouth turn up into a smile against her head as he tightens his arms around her. "Well, that's all I've ever wanted."
It's really that simple. Happy is the only label Anna needs for them.