Stunned, Caitlin merely stared at her husband, Stringfellow Hawke. It was an event that didn't happen often, he thought worriedly.
The smell of burning eggplant parmesan brought them both abruptly back into the present.
"I'll get it," Hawke said, lunging off the sofa and grabbing a potholder as he charged into the kitchen. Hurriedly grabbing hold of the pan, he snatched it out of the oven bumping his hand in the process.
"Ow!" he yelped, dumping the tray onto the counter with a crash.
Caitlin hurried to his side as he ran his hand under the faucet. "Let me see," she commanded, reaching for him.
Warily, he gave her his hand to inspect. "It's nothing," he protested quietly as she held his hand gently between hers, turning it over to look.
With a sigh, she looked up at him even as she reached for the burn ointment in the drawer. "With you, it never is," she replied as she smoothed on the cream.
"Cait," Hawke said somberly, "I wouldn't hurt you for the world."
Pausing, she stared down at his hand. "I know," she whispered, tears in her voice.
"It's done though. There's nothing I can do to change it."
"I know."
"It was a long time before us," he continued, his voice rough.
"I know, String," Cait said, finally meeting his eyes, tears tracking down her cheeks. "I know here," she said pointing to her temple, "but here," she said patting her heart, "it hurts. That may take a little longer."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Hawke said sadly, leaning his forehead against hers. "You have to know that."
"No," she said resolutely taking a deep breath. "Like you said, it's done." Reaching up, she slid her hand around the back of his neck, the dark mink strands sliding across her fingers as she did so.
Pulling his head down, her lips met his, her tears making the kiss salty. With a groan, Hawke gathered her close burying his head in her shoulder.
"Sh-hh," she whispered, "we'll be alright." Her arms wrapped around him and held him, her desperation as evident as his.
Crushing her against him, Hawke held her tight enough to hinder her breathing. Tangling his fingers in her red hair, he drug her lips up to meet his, regret and love co-mingling in the kiss.
This mean we're done talking?" Caitlin whispered when they came up for air.
"Yeah," Hawke said, his blue eyes creasing with laughter and relief as he looked at her. "You might say that." Swooping down, he scooped her against him and headed for the stairs.
"Hawke!" Caitlin protested, laughing. "What about dinner?"
"It'll keep," he replied grinning. "Besides, I've already burned it anyway - what's a couple more hours?"