A/N: the final chapter! (really, this time). Thank you for reading this little foray into early henry and elizabeth. I hope you've enjoyed it!
When morning at the cabin rolled around for the second time, it was as perfect, blue, and clear as the previous day had been. The scene inside the bedroom was also much the same, when Henry woke just after the first light of day met the cold glass of the window panes.
But this time, when he opened his eyes and looked to his left, he foundElizabth's bright blue gaze on his already. She hadn't moved even an inch since waking up; Henry's arm was curled right on top of her pillow, her curls brushing his skin, and when he took stock of their positions he found that her hand was resting against his chest, their legs tangled together, both turned on their sides to face one another, the soft sheets and warm quilt nestled around them like it had been made for them. Their eyes met across the space between her pillow and his, and for just a moment they existed there together, with no pressures, no expectations, and no need to define anything. Right then, curled in towards each other in the comfortable cabin bed, they were just Henry and Elizabeth.
Best friends, and maybe more. But they were together, and that was the part that mattered.
"Hi," Henry breathed.
"Hi," Elizabeth answered. They were both playing the night before over in their minds, thinking about holding hands and the places where there skin was touching now, in the light of morning.
"How did you sleep?" Elizabeth asked, her voice scratchy and soft.
Henry couldn't help but smile.
"Very well," he said, and she expressed the same sentiment before silence settled over them again, not tense now but comfortable.
"Do you want to get up?" Henry asked, and his voice held the notes of youth and uncertainty, a hallmark of the newness of these waters.
Elizabeth thought about it for a moment, and then she shook her head against the pillow, sending her curls tumbling over Henry's arm.
"Not yet," she said quietly. Henry smiled, a soft and gentle smile.
"Fine with me," he admitted. She smiled, and Henry thought that it might be a trick of the light, but he could swear he saw a pink blush in her cheeks.
They lie there together for a few minutes, looking at each other with something of a newfound curiosity. They knew one another better than anyone else, but in the light of a literal and figurative new dawn, Henry and Elizabeth were seeing each other a little bit differently, giving themselves permission to notice new things, to dwell on things they'd noticed and pushed aside.
Elizabeth studied the way Henry's eyelashes reached for the skin above his eyes and cast delicate little shadows there.
Henry watched the subtle way that Elizabeth's lips parted slightly at rest and thought about how soft they looked.
They were rediscovering the way they saw each other, through a whole new lens, and silently, they both agreed that it was a beautiful sight.
The two of them, restless and active young people that they were, rose from bed soon after. On that second morning at the cabin, Elizabeth and Henry each took one side of the bed and made it together, each of them dwelling on the symbolism in their own ways, and then they made their way into the kitchen. It was sunny and bright there, light pouring into the room and over the floorboards through the windows. Elizabeth, still in pajamas and perching on the same seat she'd occupied before, wondered idly how Henry had found this cabin. She had split the cost with him, but he had been the one to find and choose it. She had never thought about it before, but she liked that she had no qualms about trusting him to do that. She had never doubted that he would pick a place she would like, and now as she watched him set up the coffee maker, she reflected on whether she had taken those qualities in him for granted. The thought was accompanied by a rush of warm gratitude for Henry that she couldn't leave unspoken.
"Hey, Henry?" she asked. He looked over his shoulder at her, questions in his eyes.
"Thank you for being so…" Elizabeth began, but struggled with the words. How could she express how she felt about this? About Henry.
"So what?" Henry asked softly, and when she looked up at him, his features were heartbreakingly open, soft and gentle.
"So good," she answered simply. Henry wanted to ask what she meant, but sensed that she wasn't certain how to elaborate herself. He smiled slightly at her again.
"Thank you for saying that," he said quietly.
Elizabeth's smile, Henry thought, was somehow more golden than the still-rising sun.
He made banana pancakes for them that morning, and they sat across from each other at the table, eating them at a leisurely pace with liberal amounts of butter and syrup. Henry's speciality, if you asked Elizabeth, was definitely breakfast. Henry did the dishes while Elizabeth showered, and by the time she emerged, wet hair curling against her neck and leaving tiny drops of water on her navy blue long-sleeved top, Henry was dressed too. Elizabeth took a deep breath as she stood at the counter, refilling the coffee mug that Henry had knowingly left on the counter for her instead of washing it. She inhaled the rich, familiar scent and reveled in the way the steam felt against her skin. Henry made coffee just the way she liked it, even better than she could herself. With a fresh mug in her hand, she turned to find Henry out on the deck where she had been the morning before. He was leaning over the railing, his sweatshirt pulled taut over his shoulders as he gazed out at the autumnal mountain view. Elizabeth couldn't help but think that she liked the view better with Henry in it, too. She paused for a moment to shrug her jacket over her shoulders, and then picked her coffee cup up again and went out to join him. He turned at the sound of her footsteps and smiled at the sight of her.
"You're going to get sick out here with wet hair," he said.
"You sound like a mom," she countered, and he laughed, thinking of his own Catholic mother, pretty sure that Elizabeth had a point.
Elizabeth leaned over the rail beside him, casting a sideways glance at him only to find him already looking back at her.
"Last day," she mused. They were planning to leave the cabin no later than six pm, making the most of their weekend while still leaving in plenty of time to get back to UVA for an early night. Elizabeth didn't have a class until eleven the following day, but Henry had a bright and early eight a.m. lecture.
"We could always come back," Henry suggested, like he was feeling it out. Elizabeth smiled, looking down over the rail of the deck.
"I'd like that," she said softly.
"But," Henry continued, stretching his back as he straightened up, "the real question is what do we do in the meantime?"
The answer ended up being a walk- Henry and Elizabeth had yet to make the quick trip to explore the large pond on the property, and when they arrived she found herself wishing that they'd done it earlier. It was stunning, dark reflective water dotted with colorful fallen leaves, leaning willows brushing its surface, and a quaint metal bridge crossing its narrowest point. It was silent save for the chirping of birds and the sound of Henry's and Elizabeth's footfalls on the ground and then subsequently on the bridge, where each step echoed in the hollow metal.
They drew to a stop facing the water, the sun shining down on them from nearly directly above. Henry looked over at Elizabeth and couldn't bear to look away; she looked so beautiful there in the wintry sunshine, against a backdrop of autumn trees, face turned up to the sky in wonder.
"We should have definitely come here sooner," she said, finally pulling away from the sun to turn her face to Henry.
"We'll make it number one priority next time," Henry assured her. She smiled warmly at him, and each of them in a nearly synchronous movement turned toward each other just slightly.
They just looked at each other for a moment.
"Elizabeth?" Henry said.
"Yes?"
"I'm really glad this weekend happened the way it did."
The implications of what he was saying hung in the November air around them like the promise of falling snow.
"Me, too," Elizabeth admitted. She smiled, looking a little bit shy. "Maybe we could share a bed more often."
Henry thought his chest might burst with the force of his heartbeat at her words. Elizabeth's smile turned coy, like she knew the effect she was having on him and liked it.
Watching her there in the sunshine, Henry couldn't help himself.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked. Time seemed to stutter for a moment. Henry's mind raced with questions, fearful that he was doing too much too quickly. But then in a shining, brilliant moment of clarity in the bright sunshine, Elizabeth Adams was on the balls of her feet, her hands on his shoulders, kissing him with her beautiful lips that were even softer than Henry had imagined.
The world spun to a gentle stop right there in the Virginia countryside, and as he kissed her back, warm and like it had always been meant to be, Henry didn't mind so much that their weekend at the cabin was ending.
After all, there was always next time.