Another fluffy ficlet (I know, not surprising) inspired by all the the hand holding.
When they meet for breakfast, she reaches for his hand to lead him into their booth and doesn't let go until their food arrives, sometimes reaching for him between bites of her pancakes. Her fingers tangle with his before the door closes at their backs as he leads them past the outdoor furniture to walk her to the station to start her workday. There's reluctance to her letting go as she bids him goodbye in her office, her grasp tightening a bit before she relents and her hand pulls back to her desk. When he brings her grilled cheese at lunchtime she lets the sandwich grow cold in the bag while she sits, talking with him as her fingers trace circles on his palm. In the evening when they are bundled together during their stroll back to the loft, her hand somehow finds its way inside of his pocket, her warm palm covering his underneath the leather.
As the days go by, he begins to wonder if there is something she is trying to communicate to him with her touch, the feel of her hand a welcome, albeit unexpected, constancy in their courtship. Being a man of only one, there are times when her obsession with his hand becomes a hindrance, but he'll never admit this to her. He spent so long being pushed away that he would rather wait for her to release him than ever pull back on his own. He knows that may be a weakness, that his love for her holds too much power, but he has come to terms with that fact. On the rare times that he is first to reach out, he watches her expression every time, never failing to see a slight look relief and something else he can't quite ascertain.
They are sitting on the couch in her office one night, his hand tucked into hers as she looks over a file, his eyes searching her face as he tries to summon the courage to ask her, his curiosity finally taking over his fear of setting off her insecurities.
"Swan, can I ask you something?"
Setting down the file on her lap, she turns to face him, giving his hand a light squeeze. He barely holds back a flinch, her action behind the question he needs to ask.
"It's not that I mind, love. In fact, I quite enjoy it, but I was wondering about the hand holding." His chin drops a bit as the urge to scratch at his ear becomes unbearable, the lack of his hand once again becoming an issue. "Have you always been so fond of it, love?"
He looks up at her, finally, terrified of how she might react. She doesn't move to release his hand, which is a good sign, but she isn't meeting his gaze either. He sees a slight tint appear on her cheeks, and he knows she is embarrassed. Tightening his grip on her fingers, he slides a bit closer to her on the couch, the movement prompting her to finally look up at him. She looks him in the eye for a moment before she smiles, a small, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless.
"The first time I held your hand it was so I could betray you. I know we've never really spoken of that moment, and I don't know if we need to now, but it's something I think of often. Now that things are different, now that I'm different, I hold your hand as a reassurance of us. I guess I hope that the more I hold your hand like this, I might be able to forget about when I held it in fear. I know that sounds silly…"
He doesn't let her finish, too overwhelmed by the words she has spoken and all that it means for him to have heard her say them. His lips press firmly on the smooth skin at the top of her hand that he has lifted to his mouth, followed by feather light caresses to her wrist, leading to a gentle exploration of the crease of her elbow with the tip of his tongue. He lifts his head, now nose to nose with her, his hook pressing gently into the small of her back to bring her closer as he leans in to capture her lips with his own. He can feel her sigh of relief as she responds, her confession blooming between them like a sunflower seeing the first gentle rays of the sun on a warm summer morning. As the minutes, or hours, pass as they embrace, he thinks that if she allows it, he will hold her hand until the end of his days.