[ The Raleigh kind of heathen, of course. Chocolate sauce is great for a good deal of things, but she's hard-pressed to think of any now when the belated realisation of what they've become hits her, and it's fucking scary and wonderful all at once because hand on heart the best mornings are when she wakes up tucked against him, when they curl against each other, affection warm under their skin in the space between heartbeats, between words.
She likes those moments the way she likes his general grumpiness, his bad temper, she likes the times where he smiles, unguarded and bereft of spite and she'd lean in to kiss his cheek, just above that lovely dimple. Chuck's not the only one having a crisis because fucking be less gorgeous, Hansen, what the fuck.
She rubs her hand over her eyes, suddenly terrified. I like you. I like you very much. ] ...I'm flipping pancakes in your kitchen and you have vegemite in my fridge.
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She likes those moments the way she likes his general grumpiness, his bad temper, she likes the times where he smiles, unguarded and bereft of spite and she'd lean in to kiss his cheek, just above that lovely dimple. Chuck's not the only one having a crisis because fucking be less gorgeous, Hansen, what the fuck.
She rubs her hand over her eyes, suddenly terrified. I like you. I like you very much. ] ...I'm flipping pancakes in your kitchen and you have vegemite in my fridge.