jowls: (68.)
old man mulder. ([personal profile] jowls) wrote 2024-09-28 03:04 am (UTC)

"Just the tracks." Teasing, he adds, "We saw a raccoon, but you didn't want to eat it."

And who could blame her? They were fine, ultimately, and every night, they fell asleep in a tired tangle of limbs. She'd written a letter to her family, telling them she loved them and that she hoped she could come home soon; they sent it after New Year's to a re-mailing service, so it arrived postmarked from Reno.

Maybe he shouldn't be telling her stories so obviously focused on the two of them as a couple. In the years they were away, one of their main hobbies was sex - the cheapest entertainment around, he'd told her more than once, usually while slipping a hand down her pants. But the intimacy of their life together was part of what made the good times good. They'd been connected - body, mind, and spirit - and entirely in sync.

He misses that.

"And then there was the summer we worked hospitality in the Florida Keys." That had been stupid, ultimately - too small an area, too difficult to make a quick escape - but it had been great while it lasted, and it's not like they didn't survive. "You made so many mojitos that the very mention of mint made you scowl for a while."

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