nexus_sages | made waves with some friends I know

Trendy and expensive, yes. Durable and reliable, also yes. Something she can afford to treat him to, again, also yes. And that sounded like permission; too late to back out now. The new longer title has her laughing again. "But of course. You didn't pick me for my looks." Her kisses, maybe; she could believe that. Kissing him is fantastic.

Thanking Loki would do a great deal less damage to his relationship with Ver, plus, he really doesn't want to pick a fight with a god.

Living sounds so much better than sinning. She can live with having a little too much sunscreen on; if it gets annoyingly sticky she'll go for a swim. "Neither do I. So let's not." They can keep each other busy. It'll be glorious.

"And baking. Don't forget the baking," she adds with a little laugh before she sobers. "There are worse retirements than spending the rest of my life with you."

Permission granted though he knows better than to try and sway her once an idea latches on. It is what makes her so very dear as a friend to so many and one of the things that really have her so close to his heart. She gives and gives. That inspires him to give one of those fantastic kisses once her laughing settles. "Your gorgeous looks are just something I'll have to take other people's word for it. And so far no one has ever lied to me." Meaning those Foggy fashion updates he gives where he ad libs things like. So imagine an aurora borealis spread over a Grecian statue.

Fighting with gods is not what he does. And besides, the good the trickster had done for her outweighs the bad. Even if Matt understands what it's like to have someone just disappear.

Matt hums softly settled against her. After so much exposure the sunscreen really isn't so bad. If they're going to be sticky, they will together. Like most fun things they do.

"I like the idea," he smiles softly before quickly amending it with, "spending the rest of my life with you. Please don't ask me to be Santa."

To be fair, she's been restraining herself (mostly) until permission is granted to do things. She tries not to plow through people's lives without consideration. She gives and takes and tries to find a balance. See? She can take that kiss and give one back and it's all very fair. "Glad to hear people haven't been giving you the idea I'm gorgeous," she retorts with a smirk. Her lips stray down to his chin; his jaw is next.

She never knew Foggy had so much poetry in his soul.

They get sticky together on a regular basis. The swimming would be a new addition to the routine. (Not that there's anything routine about it.) Holding each other like this is worth all the extra sunscreen in the world. It's worth considerably worse things. She's so lucky. "Mmm, okay. So long as we've got the important part right."

Consideration and purpose are what make it okay from Matt's perspective. Kisses, touches and embraces are easily the most apparent example of give and take. "They didn't need to give me that. I know." He tilts his head to suit her travels best. "Rare bird, that you are."

It comes to him now and then. Also when she wear such unique pieces he has to come up with ways to describe them. Nice, pretty and beautiful mean something, yes. Matt has to use his imagination off of something. Now and then Foggy uses his trust and ability for good.

Stickiness has never been so pleasant. With or without the beach. The common factors are the same. "You mean you? Us? That part I have." And want for forever. There, now that resonates for a long time in side him setting his face in a smile that's just for her.

There are more transcendental ways they balance their giving with taking and vice versa. Kissing, touching, holding, these are physical expressions of more ethereal things. "More like a wounded duck," she retorts quietly, and with a distinct air of teasing. "And lucky to be taken under your wing."

If Verity knew, she'd make a point of challenging Foggy's poetic abilities more often. Now that she's feeling free to wear the bright colors she prefers again, she might not need to make a conscious effort.

"Us," she clarifies. That smile is wonderful. She could live in the warmth of that smile. She wants to admire it, commit it to memory, taste it, touch it... but she doesn't want to disrupt it. "I love you."

"A wounded duck?" It has been some time since he has heard that. The ethereal things have become stronger, and more prevalent in their lives. "You know that not a soul with a heart could resist. Of course I would take you in. We wounded ducks have to stick together." They are now with body contact and sunblock but that's different.

Between the two of them, Matt will never truly believe she ever looks anything less than wonderful. He just won't believe it. Not when she is always smelling and feeling appealing. His mind automatically interprets it to every sense.

"I love you, Verity." With and without her long, acquired titles. Matt can only keep back for so long because he wants to kiss her. "You make me so happy." And he's going to commit to keep her happy doing whatever he can.

Verity rarely forgets. A passing comment may come back to bite him in three years. But it might be the kind of biting he likes. But the hyperbole, romantic as it may be, is starting to get to be too much for her. She isn't at the point of commenting, but he knows that sudden tension. It's not the good kind. "I'd say we're pretty well stuck together. I know you're stuck with me."

She looks pretty good. She makes an effort. If he wants to find that wonderful, she's not going to stop him.

Kissing her is a good plan. A really solidly excellent plan. After saying such sweet things and making her feel all melty, he ought to kill her better. Yes. That's it. "I hope I always do."

He's a tough guy who can take bites. Love bites too. The tension means they're dropping it. And he is no more broken than she is or at least they are not truly broken people. "Is it still called stuck if this is where I want to be?" Ducks or no ducks. Sighted or blind.

She feels amazing. Don't think he hasn't noted that she has been trying new and different ways to feel amazing. In the same way Matt has been taking more care to look put together with what he has, a few additional pieces with the help of Foggy. Though Verity keeps saying he looks good. That won't stop him from the conscious effort.

Melty like ice cream in the sun? "I know you always do. I hope I can be just as accomplished."

She knows he can take it. He's put up with her so long, he's got to be the toughest guy ever born. A real tough dude. His question makes her hum, and while humming and thinking about it, she'll nuzzle his shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe? I'm glad it's where you want to be."

They make their efforts and are appreciated for it. It's a happy way to live. He really does look amazing, all the time always. Her view is not an objective one. Taking a little extra time to keep her skin smooth and soft and to make sure her outfits have interesting textures is more than worth it, and the least she can do to repay him for his kindness in letting her appreciate the view.

Like all the strawberry ice cream. "You're the accomplished one in this relationship, counselor. I am your humble student." Not so humble, really, but very much his student.

She has the capacity to be bitter and biting. He loves that about her. Matt's own hardheadedness and temper that is usually so firmly under lock and key are things she has seen unleashed on people that deserve it. Putting up with makes it sound as though it is so very awful. His voice lowers and he whispers. "I love you."

The view is more exposed for the day. A little on the cool side. Body heat is just another benefit of sitting close and cozy in the sand.

"I mean as accomplished in your happiness. I want to be sure that just because I pass the bar I am delivering a quality performance."

Bitter, and bittersweet, but a good chef can make use of every flavor. He's a stubborn man, but she can be just as stubborn when she needs to be. Thank goodness they've got a good outlet for their tempers, and their passions. "I love you too." She doesn't need to whisper that.

She'll warm him up later, when they get home. And she won't let him get too cold today. There's plenty of body heat to go around.

"Mm, yes. I've never been happier. You're so sweet and good to me."

Being no chef he at least has a very keen set of taste buds. And what is life without some variety and spice? Their strong personalities braid and contrast in all the right places. And their passions match for one another. Whispers, shouts, spoken and hummed. For now Matt hums.

Dancing and playing will keep him hot too. But oh he would not turn down whatever they can do at home.

"I can't help it..." She is so incredibly kind. It's astounding to him. Knowing truth far deeper than he does and still she has room to care and care for him.

He may not cook, but he knows the important recipes. How to make her feel safe, how to make her giggle, how to make her happy. Those are recipes so tricky, even the master chefs at Le Cordon Bleu would find them too hard. The humming makes her smile and tilt her head to hear it better. It's so cute.

Those'll help, true. But still.

"You say that like you've tried." Don't scare her with those kinds of ideas, Matt. She knows she isn't good and kind, she knows exactly who she is. Loving him is easy compared to having to live in the world.

All these dishes are house specials. The recipes are so secret that they've never been written down. Just executed. Matt continues the humming, it's sort of a tune, sort of not. He's not a musician but can carry a tune. Whatever it is, it's their own.

"I haven't. I have no reason at all to stop. You'd have to make me. I don't know if that would work though at this point." If he has to say it once or a thousand times he will. With or without the juvenile tone. Seated and holding her in his lap it's like they're replacing the bed or the couch or the floor or the favorite chair, they could be like this anywhere. Nexus, Hell's Kitchen and beyond.

"I love taking care of you, being close to you. ...you basically." She affirms the belief that he can nurture, care and not just clobber. There's gentleness not just violence to share with other people.

Edited 2016-06-02 04:11 (UTC)

Sometimes, the best way to learn something is working beside a master of the craft. It's how he taught her how to truly love someone, after all. The tune he's humming will be remembered always in her heart. If she can pick out any repetition in it, she'll try to hum in harmony.

"I'd have to make you? Welp. We're never going to find out, in that case." There's nothing, nothing that could ever convince her to try to chase him away like that. She couldn't bear it, and he deserves better. Curled up with him, wherever they are, she's happy.

"I love you too. Being close to you, taking care of you..." He's not the only one who's had to learn to nurture and be nurtured in turn. They're getting pretty good at it.

That has significantly helped him with actual cooking. Working together, with encouragement and taking things step by step is how it should be done. Yes, these months have flown by it's true. Every moment his highly concentrated with how much they've put into one another. Their relationship has never had the touch of opinions of others, of egos or special interpretations... just truth.

"That covers it." Always and forever. Though for all the play, there is a real concern that is becoming less and less.

"And every day I'm finding new reasons why I'm blessed to be with you." Because of that.

"...wanna walk with me in a bit?" Not just yet because it's so comfortable right here.

It's more fun with a partner, too. That part shouldn't be overlooked. They've both been surprised by the ways their partnership has developed and crept into the parts of their lives they thought were secret and sacrosanct. Truth, yes, but also gentleness.

"Every day?" She knows he means it, but it's still hard to believe. It's too much wonderful to expect in her life. He alone is enough; to be loved by him is more than she ever dared hope.

"In a bit," she agrees. This is too comfortable. "Don't want the sunscreen to wash off right away." Massages are less fun with sunburns.

The partnership makes more happen. Matt has operated on his own for so long. The rare times he has to go off in to the night alone now is when he can appreciate how much he's gained from knowing her, loving her. He wouldn't be the person he was a year ago.

"Uh huh. Today it's that I know that you really make sunscreen smell nice. And...a few other reasons." That's all he's got first and foremost. Matt grins and rests his head against her.

"We're letting it settle. And you're gonna have to add another layer or something." No rush. Today is not at all about rushing or any big plans. This is the big plan.

Neither of them are the people they were a year ago, or six months ago. They've been through too much together. Learning to help each other to make time for each other, learning to trust with everything... of course, they've changed. For the better.

"I hope you'll tell me about those other reasons later," she murmurs. A finger curls under his chin and tilts his head just enough for her to give him a kiss. "I didn't know it was possible to make sunscreen smell nice."

As big plans go, it's a pretty big one. They did well. "True, another layer would be smart. We can walk while the second layer soaks in."

The exciting transformation isn't even finished yet. Matt is looking forward to how he'll be in the future. Their future together. This is all absolutely for the better. There's not a doubt in my mind. Solitude has had no benefit in the long run. Looking back it was unfulfilling, empty.

"I'd be glad to. After is a good idea. It is going to take awhile." All the reasons laid out in privacy. His smiling lips slowly come to purse against her's. One kiss? Another would be good two.

It's practically scandalous to be able to touch one another so much like this in public. And they've never been shy with PDA to start.

It'll never be finished. They'll be doing this forever, growing and changing, finding new ways to fit themselves together. It's like a dance. And it's so much better than being alone.

"Oh? I hope it isn't too complicated, you know how easily I get distracted." Why not make it an even three? Three's a good number, very lucky.

She thinks the scandal would be in loving someone this much and not touching them. They're not shy about public displays, but they're careful about the types. Holding hands, kissing, but when there's a chance they'll be seen, they keep it low-key. Those nights on the roof don't count.

Dancing with another person is always better than dancing alone. They fall into sync, one to the other to the music of a song that keeps playing breath to breath, heartbeat to heartbeat.

However long they stay in the sand eventually they make it to the water right. Matt ditches the shirt, the glasses, all of it to the safety of their blankets and belongings. "Are you going to keep the hat and sarong?" He hasn't dashed off yet to the water but he finds himself to be oh so excited for it.

Swimming without it being a watery escape from danger. Imagine.

When their heartbeats and breathing sync, it's better than a dance. It's a glorious chance for the whole world to make sense, because the whole world is the two of them.

While they sit, Ver quietly describes the scene for him. They've been to the beach before, and she told him how it looked this morning when they arrived to set up. But this time, while they're sitting quiet, she takes his hand and sketches the scene on his palm: here's the cliffs, here's the sand, here's the high tide line; this is the bonfire, and us, and everything. People milling about are dots and squiggles, the lightest touches and caresses against his oh so sensitive skin. And while she draws she talks, labeling everything in a low voice meant only for his ears.

Ver doesn't get up immediately when he starts shucking clothes. Let the woman enjoy the view for a moment. He is so very handsome and she never ever gets tired of looking. "Not for swimming. That'd be impractical." The hat comes off first, weighed down by her bag so it doesn't blow away. Then she stands, shaking the sand off her sarong before untieing the knot and unwinding it. He can enjoy the show in his own way.

It's a little piece of paradise for the two of them, these moments when they get to live normal lives.

The whole damn world making sense for once is a matchless bliss.

If her name wasn't Verity, Bliss would be a good one. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Be as sweet as she is. His palms are no longer a highway of nerves, prints and callouses. Now it's a work of art with an intimate walk through by the artist. Or perhaps photographer, she did not make the shore as it is or the cliffs but capture it in a moment for him. It is just as beautiful. Now and then her whispers get a kiss or a murmur of approval.

Cotton rasps over his skin. It also gives him a chance to stretch. Matt tries not to smirk too much as he hears her heart rate kick up. One arm across the other and then both shaking out. The sand dropping away sounds like a small rain of pebbles as the fabric moves off of Verity. The wind and heat of the sun touch her body and it's very much like she's wearing nothing at all. Oh yes. She's being admired. Intensely.

"I should have known. You're always practical."

The bliss is all his doing, she'd maintain, but he might be able to convince her to try and take a more objective view. Maybe. If they don't get distracted from it.

'Bliss' isn't a name she'd choose for herself. But for this moment, for the picture she's painting for him: perfect. This is bliss. The whispers, the kisses, the approval... getting to wrap themselves up in this world they're making for themselves and simply enjoy it. Bliss.

Admiration from him is always welcome, even though it still makes her blush. Once her sarong is folded and set aside she reaches out to run a hand down his chest. "That's me, the practical one. I kept you, after all, which is an extremely practical choice." Her hand drifts lower, but moves to slide into his before it gets too distracting.

"Lead the way, honey."

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Well that was a heck of a typo... <*_*>

i saw nothing :D

<3

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Well that was a heck of a typo... <_>