"We can't have that." Her tone is solemn, her smile irrepressible. "Who'll move my couch when it gets here?"
She sinks back down to flat feet, letting go her grasp but not taking her hands off him. Her hand drags down his chest idly, her eyes following its path. She isn't really trying to start anything-- certainly not in the kitchen-- but it's hard to want to pull away.
"I guess we'll eat at the table? We could picnic on the living room floor but I still need a new television, too." More to pick up when they're out. She wants the dumbest, least-connected one money can buy. Her smile widens a little.
"The guys bringing it?" he suggests brightly, his head tilting down to join her in watching her feel him up. They've been together morning and night for the last few weeks, and it hasn't been enough. He's not convinced anything ever will be enough, but in the moment, he's satisfied.
Well, besides a continued hankering for a bite of Scully's green papaya salad, no euphemism there.
"Table," he says, an arm going around her waist as soon as he's got the chance. "Or we can try a picnic on the bed - but I can't promise I won't get distracted."
Immediately, automatically, she leans in against him. You'd think by now they'd be leveling out, less desperate to spend every moment in each other's pockets-- that they'd more than made up for lost time. But she doesn't feel that way. (Really-- had any of it ever been enough? Before they were together, they still craved each other's company. While they were apart she thought of him-- oh, probably daily. Maybe this is just their natural state. It's an oddly pleasing thought.)
"No food on the bed, too much mess." After a moment's thought she frowns. "I guess I should change the sheets-- they're probably dusty."
The whole place feels mismatched-- untouched but different, like she never left and like she's never been here before. A small sigh escapes her.
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She sinks back down to flat feet, letting go her grasp but not taking her hands off him. Her hand drags down his chest idly, her eyes following its path. She isn't really trying to start anything-- certainly not in the kitchen-- but it's hard to want to pull away.
"I guess we'll eat at the table? We could picnic on the living room floor but I still need a new television, too." More to pick up when they're out. She wants the dumbest, least-connected one money can buy. Her smile widens a little.
"We're stuck roughing it 'til then."
no subject
Well, besides a continued hankering for a bite of Scully's green papaya salad, no euphemism there.
"Table," he says, an arm going around her waist as soon as he's got the chance. "Or we can try a picnic on the bed - but I can't promise I won't get distracted."
no subject
"No food on the bed, too much mess." After a moment's thought she frowns. "I guess I should change the sheets-- they're probably dusty."
The whole place feels mismatched-- untouched but different, like she never left and like she's never been here before. A small sigh escapes her.
"It's a little strange," she admits.