He stepped into the cabin and pushed the door closed with his foot, arms full of wood. He knew that the cabin would stay warm without a fire or even enough wood, and he was damn well aware that Beverly had most likely realized the same thing. But as he put the wood down by the fireplace, he heard her call out from the kitchen.
"Glad you came back. I was just about to start on this bottle of wine without you." Kneeling, he grinned into the fire in response to her playfully familiar tone, realizing that the damn fire would continue to burn even if he never put another log onto the pile of kindling.
"Be my guest, Beverly," he called out, laughing, rocking back onto his heels and pulling off the gloves, one finger at a time.
"It's been a long time since we shared a bottle of wine together, Jean-Luc." She sounded closer now. At her tone - cautious, and perhaps even a bit tentative? - he cleared his throat.
"That is true," he said, then paused, not sure what else to say. At a soft footfall, he turned to see her carrying the bottle and two glasses into the front room. She looked down at him kneeling and smiled, digging her bare toes into the plush rug. "Why don't you go get that plate of fruit and cheese and bring it over here?"
The wine left him feeling soft and warm, relaxed, and more able to simply be present in the moment. He sat beside her, holding his almost empty glass, resting in her presence. It was good to be next to her. It had been a very long time since they had shared a meal, and even longer since they had shared a glass of wine.
"I worry that some crisis will occur, now that we're here," she mused with an impish smile, gazing at the fire as she took another sip.
He laughed, then sobered, turning to look directly at her. "Crises allow you and I to pretend that any actions or statements in the moment are to be blamed on extenuating circumstances. And then we simply return to our normal lives and pretend that we are the best of friends."
She swallowed. "We are friends," she said slowly, tentatively.
"Yes," he carefully responded, discreetly watching her for some sign. She blew out a breath and reached her hand out to him, still staring at the flames, and he grasped her hand with his own and felt her strong squeeze.
"We are more than friends," she murmured. "We're friends, Jean-Luc. And we're more. Perhaps it's time to…" she trailed off, leaning her head back against the couch.
"I do love you, you know." The words slipped out before he could think about it. His half-formed musings about how he wanted to profess his love to her, when it would be the right time, how he wanted to look at her - they had all slipped away. The truth had slipped out.
Her face was neutral as she continued to gaze into the fire, but then it softened. And without warning she leaned over and kissed him. It was sweet, warm, and a bit awkward, because they were both still holding their wine glasses, but the feel of her mouth against his was something that actually took away his ability to be coherent. She drew back slightly, and he felt as much as heard her whisper against his lips.
"I do love you, you know," she breathed against him, echoing his words.
And he found himself smiling with joy against her mouth.
The wine glasses were on the table near the couch, along with the half-full bottle. She was under him, on her back, and his weight above her was delicious and warm. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had been underneath someone on a couch. And while she and Jean-Luc had shared touches, leaned against each other, hugged over the years, this was much, much different.
It was most certainly intentional, that was for sure.
She appreciated how his shoulders were rather broad above her, and how his mouth was so very responsive, as he adjusted his kisses to her guidance, and it simply kept getting better. She hadn't been planning on climbing into bed (or onto a couch, for that matter) with him immediately, but now she was second-guessing that decision, because if it was this enjoyable now, it could only get better, right?
She felt him pull back and bury his face in the side of her neck, causing a breathy sigh to escape her lips. Opening her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling, with its exposed logs and modern lighting nestled in the dark spaces. His hands, which had been wandering tentatively around her waist, slowly began to slide up, cupping her ribcage, and a flutter appeared low in her stomach.
He froze, gripping her firmly, and cleared his throat against her neck. With a seemingly reluctant kiss against her neck, he pulled back, looking down at her. His eyes were bright, and he was very intensely focused. On her. Which was nice. More than nice. It was fantastic. Good god, the two of them had chemistry. She had known it over the years. They had flirted with the intense energy between them but never had they acted upon it. Until now.
"I think we have about thirty years' worth of tension we're going to need to work through," he said quietly, eyes glittering with just the hint of a smile around the corners. And in response, she couldn't help but throw her head back and laugh in delight.