Disclaimer: If I owned them, I'd be filthy rich. I'm broke.
A/N: This was written with a G/S thought in mind. But since the male is never named, I suppose you can think of it as who you will. But with the 'pairing' in mind, the perspective in mind was Catherine's. Or Brass'. Still, all fair game.
Some days, I think they are the only ones oblivious. I glance at them from across the room, and only know this is true. Her voice is soft and direct, flowing from her lips at a speed that would test a normal listener. But he drinks up every syllable to the very last.
We had all learned to take in each other's tangents. In this business you have to learn to let your mouth keep up with your mind. Still you could hear a slight difference, an additional thrill, when she danced along ideas to him. He would question or pose a puzzling quote. She would ponder briefly, pausing for a dramatic beat in the inaudible music, and then enthusiastically ring back. Her eyes following where her feet would step, her mouth twisting into smirks instead of hips swaying.
She's turned now, leaning back in to take another look at the edge of a piece of fabric she had collected earlier. Instantly he's leaned down beside her, eyes fixated on the object. Every now and then those eyes will wander over to hers as she speaks, collecting any gesture that might spark another thought.
Reluctantly my friends stand back up with a pleased expression. Even though there is no need they remain glued in the same proximity as they were in a few seconds ago, they stay there. For a moment I hold my breath, letting time slow down for a millisecond. In that brief flicker I can almost hear the lingering air pressing in and out of their lungs in hesitant wisps. I feel my eyes traveling across both of their faces with the same magnetic charge that seems to draw their own to examine each other.
These little moments happen. They happen often. "These" are the times when those two are so close you almost wonder if you have walked in at a very bad time. The tension tickles up between the miniscule space between them. It's a warning, a premonition, and a delightful game.
Not a muscle in their body is rigid. There's a comfortable sway in their posture. Any firmness is from a hesitance; each wondering who's turn it is to play. They're wolves circling one another in appreciation.
All too soon the moment is broken. It's always a toss up on who will realize the energy flow first. This time it was her. I see her place a feather hand on his shoulder and cross between the table and him.
He makes no effort to move too far away. Her fingers remain on the edge of his sweater nearly until she would have to strain to stay connected. Even as the tips of her digits fall away her head turns back. With a final smile and note of a message delivery she glides towards the door.
"Sara." I nod my head to her in greeting as she finally notices me. My voice stays under my breath. She nods back, fighting a slight blush.
Swiveling my attention forward, I see him with his palms pressed against the cold metal of the examination table. I know that it's not the case that has him tied up in knots as I see him drag in a sigh and roll his neck backwards. It takes all my control not to let a giggle slide out from me.
In a single moment of revelation his head turns to me. His face freezes. I shrug.
He knows I saw. He knows I know. I know him too well. That's a best friend's job. What he doesn't know, is what it is I know.
There are days when I want to shake him, ask him what's wrong and shove him that millimeter. After all, Sara has gone her half of the way. But that's not my place.
No. I'm just a bystander. A clueless companion, bound ever to a vow of ignorant silence.
If only the truth weren't so close.