[ She can't imagine, at sixteen or seventeen - or maybe she can. This, though, she knows, goes beyond what she'd felt then or even what she feels now. Somewhere out there is a version of her who absolutely does understand that the world is shit and that bad things sometimes have to happen whether by someone your own ineffectiveness or your own hand, but Claire now is not that girl there. He was so young, and to have your mind made up about something like that at that kind of an age spells out a lot of concepts that have no strong tethers, allowing them to flap relentlessly in the back of her mind.
He offers her something else to concentrate on, thankfully, which is still a branch of the conversation itself but which doesn't address him so directly, doesn't make him the focal point. That in turn means that she doesn't have to stop and consider the fact that she is literally in bed with someone who has killed people and how it still doesn't matter the way people would want or expect it to.
Claire feels her eyebrows crease in the center, a little, not confused but trying to search for the answer in his face when she doesn't even know the options. All she has is the question. ]
How much younger?
[ She still has her thumb pressed to the mouth of the skull, but she slides it down to press the entirety of her palm into his forearm, wondering how big the mark is by comparison. ]
[ Silence, for a while. Severus is looking at his arm and not her; his mind casts about for how he's supposed to react, and suddenly he feels claustrophobic, nearly suffocating, whatever response he should have had at Draco at the time suddenly sneaking up to knock the wind out of him.
Severus disentangles himself and sits up, leaning forward to cover his face with his hands. He pushes his hair back and forces himself to breathe, slow and deliberate and not heaving - it wouldn't look like anything on someone else, but for someone who has to schedule his daily facial expression half the time, it's jarring. ]
My friend's son is here. [ The f-word sounds strange and feels stranger on his tongue. ] Grown.
[ Her mouth forms around a quiet okay but it doesn't ever make it beyond the planning stages. As supportive of the conversation as she wants to sound - because she does want to know, and in some way she sort of feels like she has a right, given their entanglement, just as she's capable of acknowledging that someday she's going to have to tell him unpleasant things about her life, too - it's hard to make just one syllable sound correct when someone is pulling back by degrees.
He moves, unwinds himself, and Claire expects him to get up entirely and cut it all short in some way. He doesn't, so she keeps very still, thinking that maybe the rustling of bedding, a reminder that he isn't the only person here, might prompt him into bristly silence. It's the rise and fall of his shoulders and tension marching up and down his spine, the scrub motion of his hands over his face, that make up her mind for her, and Claire sits up as well, behind him so that he doesn't have look at her directly if he doesn't want to. ]
What's his name? [ She asks it, and it somehow comes out sounding like I'm sorry. ]
I feel like an idiot. [ - is not the kid's name. Obvious. Severus pinches the bridge of his nose, hard, trying to distract the chemicals in his brain from pitching him past the point of no return. ]
Draco Malfoy. [ Deeep breath in and out. Quietly. ] He was still drawing on walls and throwing food when I saw him last. His parents, I thought-- their child.
What's worse? The idea that they let their baby do this, or the idea that they couldn't stop it? This war - if I can't keep children from this, why are we even bothering.
[ Her voice is firm, still behind him. Claire understands all about taking responsibility that's not rightfully yours onto your shoulders whether people expect you to or not, and convincing yourself otherwise is always almost an impossibility. ]
Maybe they were doing it to protect him. [ She recognizes that there's always a choice, but she also knows that if it were her, her father would do whatever it took it if it meant keeping her alive and safe. And she knows that she would do the same thing. ] Maybe Draco was doing it to protect them. [ Maybe he did it because it was expected, and because resisting was too terrifying of a prospect to entertain. ] You can't assume responsibility for monsters, and not everyone has the ability to say no, or the option. A lot less have the ability to do what you've done. Bad things happen, especially during war. You fight so that they don't happen anymore.
[ No one knows that bad things happen during war more than Severus. He's done plenty of those bad things - on both sides; and he will do more, more than he even knows, because it's necessary, and because no one else can do them. He's the one getting his hands dirty so that the rest of them can die honorably. ]
Any child having to go through that-- is an absolute failure on my part.
[ She tries to follow the timeline of events as prescribed by his narrative but has to ask for clarification all the same. ]
Draco? When he got here?
[ She's not going to make excuses for him, because she knows that Severus won't want to hear them, so there's no maybe it was disorientation or maybe he was startled to see you so much younger. Claire wouldn't believe them if she said them anyway. She might never have lived through any of it, but she has a decent idea of how shitty everything is in their lives, and there isn't room for excuses in all of that bleakness.
She'll leave the rest of what she wants to say until after. For now, she still lingers out of his direct line of sight. ]
It was days after. He'd been in hiding. [ So, while Claire was in the hallways. Severus scrubs one hand over his face, forcing himself to stop freaking out like a fucking moron. ] He was on edge the entire time like I was going to attack him. He'd assaulted a woman in the medbay after the jump. I have to bloody make him go return her things.
[ Having drawn up her legs and folded them underneath the blanket, Claire leans her elbow on her knee and presses the seam of her mouth into the palm of her hand. The picture that she is getting of this person is obviously very charming, but she can't help but admit that's a legitimate reaction to waking up somewhere you are completely unfamiliar with, finding yourself surrounded by strange things and strange people. Claire had spent a few disorienting hours - and time after - convinced that everything here was some elaborate government punishment, after all. That doesn't excuse it, just might explain it. ]
I'm sorry that - [ She wasn't around, that she doesn't understand things pertaining to this implicitly, without the necessary explanation. ] Has he been less afraid since then?
[ Of Severus. Of the ship. Of anything. Claire can't begin to know because she doesn't know him. ]
[ It sounds stupid. He assumes even if Draco isn't as afraid, that he's probably angry. Severus is aware he's being suddenly and strangely too wound up but-- he supposes it's talking about the Mark that really triggered it, even if a part of him has been upset about Draco since he learned about him. ]
I don't know how to speak to someone I can't reconcile as anything but a four-year-old. He calls me Professor.
He's probably thinking the same thing, on top of everything else. Just... treat him like a student, as much as you can. No matter what it's going to be weird and disorienting for the both of you, but eventually everything evens out.
[ That probably goes without saying, given his involvement in returning whatever it is that Draco took from whoever it was that he assaulted, but it bears repeating - or saying in the first place - anyway. After a moment more of lingering in the cool space behind him, Claire carefully moves until she's able to hook one arm around his waist, followed by the other. She leans the side of her head into the space between his shoulder blades. ]
Are you gonna be okay?
[ That's something that she probably doesn't need to ask, but it's a common decency that goes so often overlooked in the wake of someone's disposition. ]
[ It shouldn't, and he tells himself so irritably, but her contact makes him feel better. Severus doesn't respond for a while because of course he's okay, he's always okay, he doesn't get a choice except to be okay. Claire's weight on his back and her arms around his middle are the most pleasant lies he's ever experienced; he's normal and he's allowed this, he's capable of being forgiven, he's the kind of person who deserves comfort.
But he's not at home. It's not too bad if he lets himself have this, is it? ]
Yes. [ Severus lays one hand over hers where it's wrapped around him. ] I didn't mean to have an episode at you.
[ Talking about the Mark tricked him into walking over trap in his head. Perhaps he shouldn't have after all, but it's too late and he can't unsay any of it. ]
Don't. [ Her voice isn't sharp but warm and soft, floating around his spine and then up to his shoulder as she lifts her head to balance her chin along there. ] I'd rather you talk to me about it than let it eat you from the inside out.
[ She knows some of the worst parts of him, and that he would share even a little bit of it with her means more than she's willing to admit. Even if he doesn't know some of the worst parts of her, there's a sense of mutual trust between them, the idea that she doesn't need to worry about judgment or anything like that if and when she comes to him with any of her skeletons.
Which is really fucking terrifying, but that's neither here nor there.
More than anything, Claire wants to help, but, lacking in knowledge of how to do so, all she can offer at the moment is the heavy press of her weight at his back and the warmth of her skin as she separates his fingers with her own and laces them together. ]
I might not always know the best thing to say, sometimes I might actually say the wrong thing, but I want to know about stuff like this, stuff that bothers you. [ She tilts her chin to the side a bit, so that she's able to see his profile more clearly. ] I'm not going anywhere.
[ She could go somewhere. She could vanish at a jump, or never return from wandering out in the hallways, or a dozen other strange ends that unravel into this ship. But Severus knows what she means and it's a little bit scary, honestly. Not all bad, if we're sticking to the notion that he's letting himself have snippets of a life he wouldn't be permitted to have otherwise.
He squeezes her hand and leans back a bit, head nudged against hers slightly. He'd probably kiss her if they both didn't taste like death, as humans of all types are prone to in the morning.
(What a stupid thing to think of as probably universal, Severus.)
He doesn't know what to say, but he hopes she understands how much he appreciates her. ]
[ She knows that she's probably never going to get him to accept the idea that he's not responsible for what happens at a point in time that isn't his own. Claire hasn't yet accepted that it isn't her fault that Nathan died, that if she had just been stronger or smarter, Sylar never would have gotten her ability, he would never have become immortal, he would have died when she stabbed him in the head. Going down that path is a dangerous turn for anyone, and having a constant reminder who's afraid of you and afraid of what he's been dropped into, here, staring you in the face at every turn, only makes it more difficult.
There's no perfect thing to say or question to ask, and Claire knows that, because sometimes things are just crap. All you can do is pick up what you can and try to hold it together as much as possible. Sometimes maybe it's like trying to keep sand in a sieve or water in the palm of your hand, but that doesn't matter. You've still got to try. Her job, in this scenario, is just to stand below with a bucket.
For a long time, Claire lets their heads stay inclined toward each other, before she turns and drops hers so that she can tuck her forehead in against his neck. She stays where she is, understanding where and when she's needed. It's an added bonus that she doesn't want to move away, besides. ]
Do you think he could be bribed with brownies? I hear that's had some success in the past.
[ Her voice is muffled by his shirt, and she's not smiling, but she hopes that she at least imparts a little of the idea that even though most things are terrible all the time, not everything has to be. It's safe to be okay, here, with her, even if everything is coming unraveled. Claire has to learn that, too, but this isn't about her.
Absently, like she's just remembered that she needs to do it, Claire stretches to press a kiss to the point of his jaw. Somehow, he still smells like stew. It's better than smelling her morning breath. ]
i'm sorry these are all so short i feel like a tool
[ He imagines Lucius in this situation. Then he imagines Lucius if he were missing all of his self control and manners. Severus wonders, on the heel of those thoughts, why he bothers thinking of the Malfoys of his friends anymore; he's always known they'd hate him and cast him out if they ever learned the truth. Draco's reaction to him is proof that they do know, in some capacity, and there's no forgiveness to be found in that boy. ]
I think it's probably best if non-magical people don't expect anything but to get their hand bitten off, by that one. At least for a while.
[ Severus sounds a little sad, but mostly resigned. ]
[ Not that she has any inclination to go seek Draco Malfoy out, but it's a point that she can't resist making. The way that Severus describes him, the impression and image that she gets, he doesn't seem like the sort of person she would immediately go looking for if she had a choice, and there's only one cold shoulder on this ship that she's been interested in relentlessly pursuing in a way that doesn't end with her breaking someone's nose.
She sits up, departing with a faint squeeze around his middle and leans her back against the head of the bunk, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle in front of her. ]
He'll have to come around eventually. Going at it alone is no way to make it, here.
[ Or anywhere, but who cares about anywhere when they're here? ]
We've talked about entrails. [ Check out these romantic notions, man. Severus doesn't comment on going it alone - he knows, even as someone who's very much accustomed to working on his own and having no one to (honestly) support him. Even here he's not reliant on anyone else, he just accepts the system and works with it - something he wouldn't have such an easy time sorting out if he weren't used to being the only one working. Draco doesn't seem like he's going to be able to slip quietly into a functional role. ]
[ Claire snorts with minimal amusement, scrubbing her hands over her face and back through her hair. Parts of it are still damp. She needs to brush her teeth. She needs to get the dogs. She needs to get to work on a million tasks. She wants to stay here. ]
Good morning. [ Her legs swing themselves around, thick socks pressing into the cold floor, and she pushes herself up creakily, standing and stretching with delayed gratification before turning back around to face him and reaching for his wrist. ] Hey.
[ She pulls at him, trying to tug him to standing. ]
[ Token resistance at first, Severus lets himself be hauled to his feet. ]
Kicking me out of my own room already? [ As if he doesn't have a ton of shit to do. Severus has to go take a shower and get coffee and get down to the labs and carry on with work - he needs to catch up with some smaller things he's let lapse while recon was going on, too. ]
[ No, not really. It's too chilly, for starters, even if she does have to admit that his has more character than hers does. That picture of Texas is still the only focal point that her quarters can boast. But no.
Primarily, once he's standing, she's more interested in occupying the space between them rather than the space around them. It's just an embrace, but she's lived a life filled with hugs good morning and goodnight and goodbye and everything good and bad in between. Warm comfort is what she knows best, what she was raised on, and it's easier to communicate everything that you want to say like this than it is to spend minutes that feel like hours agonizing over the right thing to say when there is no right thing.
Life sucks, here and at home, and Claire knows that no one has really ever been gentle with him, and she hopes she can impart some of what she feels he deserves better this way, with her arms looped over his shoulders and neck and one foot nearly treading on his, than she can by fumbling around with starts and stops and sentences that ring hollow or have no destination. ]
[ Physical affection is one of those things lonely people daydream about and then learn to deal with never having. Severus's primary experiences with people touching him are instances of people hurting him, and he's still moving back and forth in his head about how he feels about what's been progressing with Claire. Is he starving to be held like this - for her to sleep beside him, kiss him, grab his hand? Or is it overwhelming and uncomfortable?
He pulls his arms around her and presses his face against her hair. Tells his head to shut the hell up. He does want it, as horrible and selfish as it is of him. ]
[ With one hand on the back of his neck, Claire holds on just a moment longer than is probably necessary. Trying to convey something, she doesn't know what, and just hoping that it translates all the same. That maybe she doesn't always understand completely what's going on with him but that she's here to hear it anyway, do what she can. That's nothing new for Claire, even if their circumstances are, which is why she doesn't need to carefully examine it the way she did and does and will continue to do the other facets of their relationship. This is natural for her. She's not afraid to be a support system for him.
Eventually she lets go, sort of lingers in his personal space to bring both palms to either side of his face and kiss him, briefly, before stepping back to find her shoes. ]
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He offers her something else to concentrate on, thankfully, which is still a branch of the conversation itself but which doesn't address him so directly, doesn't make him the focal point. That in turn means that she doesn't have to stop and consider the fact that she is literally in bed with someone who has killed people and how it still doesn't matter the way people would want or expect it to.
Claire feels her eyebrows crease in the center, a little, not confused but trying to search for the answer in his face when she doesn't even know the options. All she has is the question. ]
How much younger?
[ She still has her thumb pressed to the mouth of the skull, but she slides it down to press the entirety of her palm into his forearm, wondering how big the mark is by comparison. ]
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Severus disentangles himself and sits up, leaning forward to cover his face with his hands. He pushes his hair back and forces himself to breathe, slow and deliberate and not heaving - it wouldn't look like anything on someone else, but for someone who has to schedule his daily facial expression half the time, it's jarring. ]
My friend's son is here. [ The f-word sounds strange and feels stranger on his tongue. ] Grown.
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He moves, unwinds himself, and Claire expects him to get up entirely and cut it all short in some way. He doesn't, so she keeps very still, thinking that maybe the rustling of bedding, a reminder that he isn't the only person here, might prompt him into bristly silence. It's the rise and fall of his shoulders and tension marching up and down his spine, the scrub motion of his hands over his face, that make up her mind for her, and Claire sits up as well, behind him so that he doesn't have look at her directly if he doesn't want to. ]
What's his name? [ She asks it, and it somehow comes out sounding like I'm sorry. ]
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Draco Malfoy. [ Deeep breath in and out. Quietly. ] He was still drawing on walls and throwing food when I saw him last. His parents, I thought-- their child.
What's worse? The idea that they let their baby do this, or the idea that they couldn't stop it? This war - if I can't keep children from this, why are we even bothering.
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[ Her voice is firm, still behind him. Claire understands all about taking responsibility that's not rightfully yours onto your shoulders whether people expect you to or not, and convincing yourself otherwise is always almost an impossibility. ]
Maybe they were doing it to protect him. [ She recognizes that there's always a choice, but she also knows that if it were her, her father would do whatever it took it if it meant keeping her alive and safe. And she knows that she would do the same thing. ] Maybe Draco was doing it to protect them. [ Maybe he did it because it was expected, and because resisting was too terrifying of a prospect to entertain. ] You can't assume responsibility for monsters, and not everyone has the ability to say no, or the option. A lot less have the ability to do what you've done. Bad things happen, especially during war. You fight so that they don't happen anymore.
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[ No one knows that bad things happen during war more than Severus. He's done plenty of those bad things - on both sides; and he will do more, more than he even knows, because it's necessary, and because no one else can do them. He's the one getting his hands dirty so that the rest of them can die honorably. ]
Any child having to go through that-- is an absolute failure on my part.
He was terrified of me.
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Draco? When he got here?
[ She's not going to make excuses for him, because she knows that Severus won't want to hear them, so there's no maybe it was disorientation or maybe he was startled to see you so much younger. Claire wouldn't believe them if she said them anyway. She might never have lived through any of it, but she has a decent idea of how shitty everything is in their lives, and there isn't room for excuses in all of that bleakness.
She'll leave the rest of what she wants to say until after. For now, she still lingers out of his direct line of sight. ]
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[ Mistakes Have Been Made etc ]
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[ Having drawn up her legs and folded them underneath the blanket, Claire leans her elbow on her knee and presses the seam of her mouth into the palm of her hand. The picture that she is getting of this person is obviously very charming, but she can't help but admit that's a legitimate reaction to waking up somewhere you are completely unfamiliar with, finding yourself surrounded by strange things and strange people. Claire had spent a few disorienting hours - and time after - convinced that everything here was some elaborate government punishment, after all. That doesn't excuse it, just might explain it. ]
I'm sorry that - [ She wasn't around, that she doesn't understand things pertaining to this implicitly, without the necessary explanation. ] Has he been less afraid since then?
[ Of Severus. Of the ship. Of anything. Claire can't begin to know because she doesn't know him. ]
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[ It sounds stupid. He assumes even if Draco isn't as afraid, that he's probably angry. Severus is aware he's being suddenly and strangely too wound up but-- he supposes it's talking about the Mark that really triggered it, even if a part of him has been upset about Draco since he learned about him. ]
I don't know how to speak to someone I can't reconcile as anything but a four-year-old. He calls me Professor.
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[ That probably goes without saying, given his involvement in returning whatever it is that Draco took from whoever it was that he assaulted, but it bears repeating - or saying in the first place - anyway. After a moment more of lingering in the cool space behind him, Claire carefully moves until she's able to hook one arm around his waist, followed by the other. She leans the side of her head into the space between his shoulder blades. ]
Are you gonna be okay?
[ That's something that she probably doesn't need to ask, but it's a common decency that goes so often overlooked in the wake of someone's disposition. ]
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But he's not at home. It's not too bad if he lets himself have this, is it? ]
Yes. [ Severus lays one hand over hers where it's wrapped around him. ] I didn't mean to have an episode at you.
[ Talking about the Mark tricked him into walking over trap in his head. Perhaps he shouldn't have after all, but it's too late and he can't unsay any of it. ]
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[ She knows some of the worst parts of him, and that he would share even a little bit of it with her means more than she's willing to admit. Even if he doesn't know some of the worst parts of her, there's a sense of mutual trust between them, the idea that she doesn't need to worry about judgment or anything like that if and when she comes to him with any of her skeletons.
Which is really fucking terrifying, but that's neither here nor there.
More than anything, Claire wants to help, but, lacking in knowledge of how to do so, all she can offer at the moment is the heavy press of her weight at his back and the warmth of her skin as she separates his fingers with her own and laces them together. ]
I might not always know the best thing to say, sometimes I might actually say the wrong thing, but I want to know about stuff like this, stuff that bothers you. [ She tilts her chin to the side a bit, so that she's able to see his profile more clearly. ] I'm not going anywhere.
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He squeezes her hand and leans back a bit, head nudged against hers slightly. He'd probably kiss her if they both didn't taste like death, as humans of all types are prone to in the morning.
(What a stupid thing to think of as probably universal, Severus.)
He doesn't know what to say, but he hopes she understands how much he appreciates her. ]
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There's no perfect thing to say or question to ask, and Claire knows that, because sometimes things are just crap. All you can do is pick up what you can and try to hold it together as much as possible. Sometimes maybe it's like trying to keep sand in a sieve or water in the palm of your hand, but that doesn't matter. You've still got to try. Her job, in this scenario, is just to stand below with a bucket.
For a long time, Claire lets their heads stay inclined toward each other, before she turns and drops hers so that she can tuck her forehead in against his neck. She stays where she is, understanding where and when she's needed. It's an added bonus that she doesn't want to move away, besides. ]
Do you think he could be bribed with brownies? I hear that's had some success in the past.
[ Her voice is muffled by his shirt, and she's not smiling, but she hopes that she at least imparts a little of the idea that even though most things are terrible all the time, not everything has to be. It's safe to be okay, here, with her, even if everything is coming unraveled. Claire has to learn that, too, but this isn't about her.
Absently, like she's just remembered that she needs to do it, Claire stretches to press a kiss to the point of his jaw. Somehow, he still smells like stew. It's better than smelling her morning breath. ]
i'm sorry these are all so short i feel like a tool
I think it's probably best if non-magical people don't expect anything but to get their hand bitten off, by that one. At least for a while.
[ Severus sounds a little sad, but mostly resigned. ]
damn it claire you're a terrible person
[ Not that she has any inclination to go seek Draco Malfoy out, but it's a point that she can't resist making. The way that Severus describes him, the impression and image that she gets, he doesn't seem like the sort of person she would immediately go looking for if she had a choice, and there's only one cold shoulder on this ship that she's been interested in relentlessly pursuing in a way that doesn't end with her breaking someone's nose.
She sits up, departing with a faint squeeze around his middle and leans her back against the head of the bunk, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle in front of her. ]
He'll have to come around eventually. Going at it alone is no way to make it, here.
[ Or anywhere, but who cares about anywhere when they're here? ]
noooooooooooooo
Well, good morning. [ Bleehh. ]
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Good morning. [ Her legs swing themselves around, thick socks pressing into the cold floor, and she pushes herself up creakily, standing and stretching with delayed gratification before turning back around to face him and reaching for his wrist. ] Hey.
[ She pulls at him, trying to tug him to standing. ]
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Kicking me out of my own room already? [ As if he doesn't have a ton of shit to do. Severus has to go take a shower and get coffee and get down to the labs and carry on with work - he needs to catch up with some smaller things he's let lapse while recon was going on, too. ]
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[ No, not really. It's too chilly, for starters, even if she does have to admit that his has more character than hers does. That picture of Texas is still the only focal point that her quarters can boast. But no.
Primarily, once he's standing, she's more interested in occupying the space between them rather than the space around them. It's just an embrace, but she's lived a life filled with hugs good morning and goodnight and goodbye and everything good and bad in between. Warm comfort is what she knows best, what she was raised on, and it's easier to communicate everything that you want to say like this than it is to spend minutes that feel like hours agonizing over the right thing to say when there is no right thing.
Life sucks, here and at home, and Claire knows that no one has really ever been gentle with him, and she hopes she can impart some of what she feels he deserves better this way, with her arms looped over his shoulders and neck and one foot nearly treading on his, than she can by fumbling around with starts and stops and sentences that ring hollow or have no destination. ]
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He pulls his arms around her and presses his face against her hair. Tells his head to shut the hell up. He does want it, as horrible and selfish as it is of him. ]
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Eventually she lets go, sort of lingers in his personal space to bring both palms to either side of his face and kiss him, briefly, before stepping back to find her shoes. ]