Saying it feels like holding fire in her hands and trying not to get burned, but Chris finds Street's eyes where they sparkle and the world doesn't cave in at her admission like she always felt like it would. The warmth of it is new, scary, but something she feels like she could get used to. With only his relaxed smile and her own slowing heartbeat to focus on, she realizes something in the easy silence.
There's no more static. At least not for the moment.
The ghost of a smile crosses her face, corners of her lips quirking up for a breath, but long enough for Street to see. It's too soon for panic about what it all means to wash over her. Even the distant thought of reality is less daunting now that she's not looking at it by herself.
Street thinks about telling her now that he doesn't care about anything more coming out of this except for Chris feeling better. That his words, while true, don't have to signal anything romantic that she doesn't want. But it all feels too soon to speckle the lightness of the air with splashes of paint, so he holds onto it for later.
"Are you okay?" He whispers, memorizing her features for the millionth time. Hands still intertwined, she squeezes his and nods, hair fanning against the pillow.
"I think so." Chris says, words lined with determination that's so undeniably who she is, Street cracks a smile. Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"You've always been there for me. With my mom, Nate. I wouldn't be where I am if you didn't hold my hand and jump with me, even when I didn't ask, and especially when I pushed you away. It's my turn to be there for you." Street says.
"You've always been there for me too, Street," Chris counters. Street shakes his head.
"For the old stuff." He adds, able to blunt the razor's edge so perfectly it no longer feels like a threat.
"Okay," Chris smiles small, one of her hands moving to run down his face before she covers her mouth for a full-body yawn.
A shiver runs through Chris, and when she opens her eyes, Street's still looking at her like she's a gift.
"You should get some sleep." He says as his eyes travel over the painting of light blues and purples underneath hers.
Though Chris doesn't think it will be restless, at least not from the same fears that exploded last night, she swallows and asks the same question she asked Helena and Sarzo.
"Will you stay?"
Swathing her in his gentleness, Street kisses her forehead again and tells her he'll stay as long as she lets him.
"What time is it?" Chris murmurs as she wakes. She can't remember the last time she felt this rested, and when she opens her eyes, they fall on Street, who's got one hand brushing against hers and the other holding his iPad.
"And what are you watching?"
His soft chuckle makes her even warmer, eyes soft when they find hers.
"It's 1, and Bake Off. It's good stress relief." Street says, eyes widening when he hears his words.
"Not that this, you are stressful."
Rolling her eyes and taking his hand, Chris says she's got it. It takes most of her energy to push herself up, hauling her bad leg that seems to weigh a ton with her. Once upright, she situates herself so their sides are pressed together, her head resting on his shoulder as she takes in the sweet music and soothing images of the show. They feel like they could stay there forever, hands intertwined.
A loud grumble from Chris's stomach breaks the moment, Street laughing softly as he presses pause.
"I think there might be leftovers from whatever your Aunt and Uncle made for breakfast. Let me see, or I can make something."
"I want those scone things they just made," Chris says, stomach growling again. Street takes in how much lighter she seems from Lankford and their conversation a few days ago, smiling. He kisses her forehead.
"Sarzo bought English Muffins, I think."
Shoving him off, Chris laughs and says that's not what she meant.
"I should shower."
Chris reaches for her crutches and sighs when her feet are on the ground, bones settling into the new position. A layer of last night is still on her skin.
"Eat first," Street says from the doorway. "Don't want you passing out." His tone is joking, but she hears his concern, and despite rolling her eyes, she follows him out and into the living room.
He digs around the fridge until he finds a container with a post-it on top for reheating instructions, while Chris finds Bake Off on her TV. When he hears the opening theme of a new episode, Street looks over from the stove and smiles at the sight of her, relaxed, in the afternoon sun that streams through her windows and makes a golden halo around her.
"Here," Street says a few minutes later, handing Chris a dish with eggs and peppers and potatoes that just the smell of is a comfort. He sets a glass of water and a napkin down on the table and then takes a seat next to her.
"When do you go back in?" Unsure of 20 Squad's schedule, Chris tucks away the relief she feels at his answer.
"Day after tomorrow. 40-Squad had a team bonding thing, but they're back on."
Nodding, Chris tries not to stare at Street's profile as she processes having the rest of the day and tomorrow together and how calm that makes her.
Street sees Chris looking at him in his periphery and does his best to keep his jaw relaxed and his eyes forward and focused on the woman making some kind of batter on the screen, viscerally aware of the butterflies pattering around his stomach.
The meal is enough to make Chris crave another nap. By the end of the episode, her eyes are sliding shut, so she stands before she can think about it. She starts to turn and ask Street for help, their routine now down to a science, but he's already right behind her.
Sitting on the edge of her bed while Chris gets her clothes off and her robe on, he smiles at the photos that sit on her nightstand. One of her and her family, and one of her and Erika from a hike. It pangs his heart to think about Erika, and he reaffirms the promise he made to himself to be better in her memory. The feelings ease when he focuses on Chris's smile, first in the frame and then right in front of him when she calls his name and he opens the door.
No words pass between them, just the gentle but electric buzz of trust in the air. Chris stands and Street wraps his arms around her, listening to her breath and lifting when she steps. He stays where he is until she's got a hand on the wall.
He could tell her to yell if she needs him or when she's done, but their eyes meet and she gives him a nod. She knows he's listening for when the water stops, and he knows she knows, and the blush that runs over him is nothing compared to the newness of her leaning into someone when they offer, so neither mention a thing.
While Chris showers, Street cleans. He makes her bed and does the dishes before tidying the living room, needing the distraction from the waves of emotion dancing in his stomach.
He told Chris he loved her.
She said it back.
He can't help the flicker of hope that she meant it the same way he did.
Still, the rules are the rules, and Chris has enough to focus on just getting healthy to worry about coddling his feelings, so Street puts the thought in a box for later and turns to wipe down the kitchen counters. He considers turning Bake Off on again, but it feels like a them show now, and he smiles at having someone to defend him against Luca's comments.
Chris roots through her drawers, looking for any sweats that are big enough to cover the brace so she doesn't have to look at it for a day.
Every time she does it's a reminder of Lankford, and the good that's come as a result is a baby compared to the monsters of bad and ugly that accompanied her and Deacon.
She comes across a pair, gray, sitting at the top of the next drawer that she doesn't remember buying or folding. Making a mental note to text Helena a thank you, she shakes out the sweats and knows immediately they're Street's.
As tall as she is, he's got a few inches on her.
The fleece of the sweats is warm and soft when she pulls them over her legs. Elastic cuffs keep them in place around her ankles, and Chris pulls the drawstring tight to keep them on her waist. The bagginess hides the brace and makes her feel a little more like herself. It's the relief she needs after the past few days.
"Are those mine?" Street asks as soon as he sees her. Chris mumbles that they were in her drawer, but her smile and the pink flushing onto her cheeks make the answer obvious.
Two mugs of tea in hand, Street smiles when he finds she's already flipping back to the episode they hadn't yet finished.
"Hooked?"
Chris rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her tea.
"I need something to watch for the next few weeks."
Sitting up so Street can slide behind her on the couch, Chris leans back so she's resting against his chest. When his arms first come around her on instinct, she tenses. It feels too intimate, the fire growing uncontrollably hot, but flashes of their morning conversation come back and settle her.
Street feels Chris tense after he sets his mug down and locks his hands low and loose around her torso. He takes a deep breath, letting her sit in whatever the moment is until it passes, and smiling when she relaxes again.
They're silent as they watch, save the occasional remark about a showstopper or the clinking of mugs on the coffee table. Street's arms are a comforting weight over Chris, something she's surprised doesn't make her feel trapped like it always did when Ty would try it. The brace impedes her from turning on her side like she wants, but she throws a blanket over their legs and guides his arms up higher so she can hook her hands on them.
Afternoon lingers into a cozy evening. They finish one season and start the next, but the longer they watch, the heavier Chris feels. Peeking down, Street smiles at her closed eyes and her long, delicate eyelashes.
"Chris?" He says softly, running a hand down her arm. She murmurs against him.
"Huh?"
Laughing, Street tells her she fell asleep.
"It's past ten, anyway, I could use some sleep, too."
Chris sits up to let Street stand, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as he sets their empty mugs in the sink. He turns and sees her, hair in tangles around her face and the blanket draped over her legs, and inhales deeply for his heartbeat to go back to normal.
Shoving off the blanket, Chris grabs her crutches where they lay on the floor and brings herself to stand. She looks around for her phone before realizing it's still on her dresser, and winces at the missed texts she knows have to be waiting for her.
"Goodnight, Chris," Street says, stopping in the doorway of the guest bedroom and taking her in under the hallway light. The line of her is so much softer than normal, when she's guarded at work and covered in weapons, and as much as he loves seeing her there, this is even nicer.
"Wait," her voice catches as she looks over her shoulder, the effort to turn around completely too much. "Stay?"
As much as Chris tries to not let on, last night's dream is coming back to her in technicolor, and Rafa's face and gun is something she doesn't want to face alone if he visits her again tonight.
"Sure." Street's brows furrow, and Chris conjures a small smile.
They'll have to talk about this, them, tomorrow, Chris knows, but for the night she cares more about getting actual sleep. Grabbing her phone, she plugs it in and leaves it on the nightstand to power up while she brushes her teeth and washes her face. Street does the same in the guest bathroom before joining her.
"Helena and Sarzo texted me earlier," Street tells Chris when she unlocks her phone to their novel of messages. Reassurances of how strong she is and how they love her and she'll get through this fill her heart, but her thumbs stop at Street's word.
"Just checking on you, they figured your phone was dead. I let them know you're okay."
Her brown eyes flick to his, sharp, and she bites her lip until his words settle.
"Thanks," she says, finishing her text and then situating herself in bed with a sigh.
Street's promises from the morning about them wanting her to lean on them are slipping through her fingers like sand. Chris grips onto whatever scraps she can.
"You alright?" He checks. The tension in her face is noticeable, so reminiscent of when he first saw her this morning. He finds her hand and squeezes it, making her smile and unsticking her breath from where it's heavy in her chest.
"Thank you," she repeats, lighter, as tears rush to behind her eyes at being someone's priority for once and then subside.
"No thanks necessary," Street says, turning to lay on his side and face her since she can't. "Sleep tight."
"Mm, good night," Chris mumbles, already lulled in the arms of sleep.
hello! thank you for reading! we're coming around the curve for this little (lol was supposed to only be like 5 chapters) story, so thank you for sticking with me this long, and i hope you're still enjoying it! comments/kudos appreciated, i love to know everyone's thoughts ? xo, A
