Trust
By Felicia aka CurlyCutie
"Something smells good," he said walking through the door.
"Thank you," a soft feminine voice was heard from the direction of the kitchen, "two questions, one why don't you say `honey I'm home!' it's cute, two where have you been, and oh is salmon good tonight?"
He had been putting away his cloak and walking towards the kitchen while she was talking, "I'm not a `honey I'm home' kind of guy, besides I'm the `honey' in this relationship, you're the `love'. Nowhere in particular. Salmon is great, and that was three questions." He said laughing. He expected her to laugh as well but instead there was a clanging of pans.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and his eyes following her. She hadn't turned around; she was lifting a covered pan from the oven and placing it beside her on the counter. She then reached dup to grab plates, she was about to reach up for glasses but the only clean ones were too high up for her to reach. She was a blur of movement; he watched her bright red hair that was pulled into a bun. It caught the light and flashed like a cardinal lighting from branch to branch. He wished it was down, a fiery waterfall that swished down mid-back. "Good answers and could you please get the glasses?"
"Course," he walked over to stand beside her to reach the glasses, but before he was next to her she turned and walked towards the refrigerator and pulled out a head of lettuce. He was a little put out, he had been hoping to give and receive a welcome home kiss. "Did you have a good day?" he asked as she made the salad. She was making it on the counter next to the refrigerator instead of on the island where she usually did. "Let's talk about it at dinner then we'll have something to talk about, okay?"
"Okay…" he said hesitating. Normally she would have bubbled over with news but she was acting very quiet tonight.
She used to be very quiet when he first met her and watched her, slipping in and out of shadows trying to hide from people. But she forgot to hide her spirit from him, when he first talked to her directly. She had a fierce sprit that he seemed to bring out. It wasn't a bad temper; bad tempers are loud and say stupid things. She was just a fighter. She tired to be invisible long ago but she failed when near him. He used to be loud and arrogant, but in private with her he softened a bit. He was loud sometimes and arrogance peaked through every now and then. But he listened. Sometimes they wouldn't talk for hours, just looking at each other, talking with their eyes, listening to the other breath.
He had carried out plates, glasses, cutlery and the food. He was coming back into the kitchen to see what else needed to be carried out. "Is that all?" he asked. He looked around in the kitchen. She had moved into a corner, back to him still, she was gripping the counter so tightly her already pale skin was whiter at the knuckles. Her shoulders were slumped and shuddered a bit.
He took three big steps and he was behind her. He covered her hand with his own. He shielded her body with his own. A sob escaped from her lips. He turned her around to cradler her next to him "it's ok, I've got you, jut trust me," he whispered. When he said trust she went ridged. Her hands that were wrapped around his waist tightened, digging her nails into the small of his back. He didn't cry out in pain, but he made a small noise of discomfort as a reflex.
"Trust me, he said that once, it was today almost twelve years ago he said trust me and then tried to kill me! He used me! He said he was my friend and look what he did! Trust!" she raised her head to look at him and laughed bitterly. Her eyes were red and moist, her cheeks were blotchy, and her nose was red. She was wounded deep inside.
He was filled with a rage so intense that his grey eyes flashed with hatred as he held her tighter. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he had started to silently cry himself. She lifted her head again and tilted her face towards him, and started to kiss his wet cheeks. He did the same to her, kissing her all over her face. Finally meeting her lips and kissing her over and over. They didn't know how long they were standing there but the salmon was cold when they walked past the dining table, but neither was hungry.
Instead they went upstairs, lay in the bed just holding each other.
A little while later, when the moon had risen and its light shone on them and they were wrapped around each other, he stroked her arm that was lightly sprinkled with freckles. He kissed her shoulder blade, "I love you," he murmured as he closed his eyes.
She turned in his arms facing him, she ran her fingers through his platinum hair, brushing it out of his eyes, pulling him closer, before she kissed him she whispered, "I trust you."
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