Blackout
Laying on his back, Harvey stretches out on the floor, basking in the flickering heat of the fire he managed to get going. After a storm knocked out the electricity, he and Donna were left unpacking in a frenzy, trying to find essentials before losing daylight.
Living room furniture would be preferable over the plush carpet he's collapsed on, but due to a miscommunication with the movers, he's choosing warmth over comfort while he waits for his wife to join him.
After a few moments, his eyes fall closed as he listens to the rain outside, his thoughts drifting into nonsense, when a thud followed by a curse jerks his gaze to the wobbling beam of Donna's torch.
She rubs her knee, moving around the large box that tripped her—one over several they didn't get to. "How did we end up with so much stuff?"
He smirks as she kneels down beside him. "We?"
Shivering in her thin top, she hugs herself, rolling her eyes. Every chance he gets, he likes to boast that his apartment was packed in one afternoon, while hers took nearly a week. But she wouldn't call his sparse lifestyle worthy of praise. "The only picture in your condo was a signed photo of Derek Jeter."
He chuckles, assuming she couldn't find their winter clothes, and rubbing her arm to try and generate some heat. "It did take you twenty minutes to throw out a ticket stub from 2003," he teases.
"Says the man who can't remember his wife's birthday."
She prods his chest with a raised eyebrow and he grins."I plead the fifth." He hasn't always been eidetic with dates. Or cared much for sentimental tokens. But he did enjoy sifting through some more obscure parts of Donna's life. And he knows her birthday is in two months. But, not wanting to tip her off to his surprise, he cups her waist, tugging her closer. "You're freezing. Come here."
With the wind still rattling against the windows, and no sign of the storm easing, she climbs onto his hips, leaning back against his bent knees and splaying her palms across his lower abdomen, resting them there comfortably.
If they weren't so jetlagged and tired, she's sure she'd feel evidence of his enjoyment stirring below her. But his lustful gaze is hooded with exhaustion—no doubt like her own—and she sighs. Their first few hours in Seattle aren't exactly the smooth run she'd hoped for. "I'm sorry about the movers. They said they'll have the rest here by lunchtime tomorrow."
He shakes his head, slipping his warm hands beneath her top. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Besides," he smiles. "This feels pretty perfect to me."
She blushes, jumping when lightning flashes through the apartment. Even though she can't control the weather, the faux pas with their furniture was her fault, and she gives his shoulder a soft squeeze. "I doubt your back will agree tomorrow."
Her sheepish smile stops his thumb's circular motions, his chest rising with the slightest flutter of worry. Right now, the world could be ending around them and he'd be too blissfully happy to care. But among a few other interesting quirks he's learned about his wife this week, it seems her habit of putting his needs first tends to rear when she's stressed.
She made sure his items were stored meticulously, while her own things were strewn together in a way she described as organized mess. To him, they looked more like a cluster of chaos. And he knows they made the decision to move to Seattle together. But while she was frantically packing, he was unpacking nuisances about her. Like how she journals when she needs to work through a problem or can play every instrument except the violin—yet, when she was forced to relocate as a child, she chose to keep her grandmother's antique viola over the piano she could command with her eyes closed.
After over a decade of being with her, he knows her, as well as plenty of stories that would make half of Seattle blush. But she's chipped away at his vulnerable side for years, and he's still catching up, not completely sure he can gauge when she's reaching for armor. So, he's completely serious when he suggests making their first night in Seattle memorable somewhere else. "We could look for a hotel? Stay somewhere that has a warm bed and room service?"
His palm skates up her spine, and she smiles. Even if they could find somewhere with hot water and heating, the soft crinkles around his eyes and the warmth from the fire melt away her guilt at having them floor-bound.
If he's okay, then so is she.
A fact that has stayed true for both of them, no matter how extenuating the surrounding circumstances.
"Why? This is perfect."
Her smile greets his lips, and he tugs her down as a boom of thunder echoes through their new apartment. In the semi-darkness, surrounded by boxes, she doesn't care that they're missing half their furniture or can't find their sweaters.
She found her home with Harvey years ago, and their forever is just beginning.
