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intheheartTitle: Bright
Rating: PG.
Summary: He didn't mean for her to hear it.
Date: 2017
Notes: none.
Theoretically, they're watching a movie, but Joy's half asleep, and having trouble not going all the way, what with her head in Michael's lap and his fingers combing softly through her hair. It doesn't help that it's a quiet movie, some kind of mindbending French romance that she can't quite follow, especially since she's been drifting in and out for the last several minutes.
She's just about to give up and fall properly asleep when Michael's fingers still in her hair. A moment later, he exhales, and says, softly, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
She freezes.
--
He didn't mean for her to hear it. Not that he minds Joy knowing that; he tells her in little ways all the time, and she isn't unobservant. It's just... saying it out loud. There's something a little embarrassing, a little heartbreaking about it, and he can tell from the way she goes still in his lap that she knows that.
Joy rolls over to look up at him, her blue eyes wide and serious, her head tucked in the crease of his thigh and stomach. "Am I?"
No point denying it now. Michael shrugs. "Yeah. Except for Danny, maybe."
--
"Well, Danny," she says, smiling a little, hoping to ease the mood. It doesn't work, but she wasn't really expecting it to work. She reaches up, cups his cheek, his stubble softly prickly against her palm. "I'd hoped... that you had better things in your life. Not that I'm not fabulous."
That gets her a smile and a little huff of laughter, breathy on her wrist. She smiles broader, reassured, and lets her hand drop, caressing his shoulder and arm along the way.
Michael shifts beneath her, slips a hand under her head. When he finally speaks, it's halting, but sure.
--
"Everyone in my life," he says, choosing words like precious stones, "either they under- or overestimate me. Either they say-- 'no way you're disabled,' or they act like I'll break." Which, to be fair, he will. He revises that. "I mean, they act like I can't take care of myself."
Joy snorts gently, but says nothing, only tucks an arm around his waist and listens.
"You and Danny don't," he says, at last. "I don't know how or why you get it right. But you do. You're... perfect."
He's not talking about Danny now, and he knows she knows it.
--
Joy thinks over what he's said very carefully before she speaks.
"I'm a dancer," she says, when she's got it all straight in her head. "I hurt myself all the time, you know that. And it's not like... what I do, it's not at all like what you live with. I could just stop dancing."
"No, you couldn't," Michael says, and she smiles.
"Well, no, I couldn't, but not like you can't stop. I guess I... when I hurt myself, you ask me what I need, and get it if you can. Why shouldn't I do the same for you?"
--
He bends and kisses her first, because it seems like the most important thing to do, a slow warm kiss, with how much he loves her written bright in each breathless moment. Then he traces the arch of her eyebrow with a fingertip, and says, "You are perfect, and I love you. Do you know that?"
"Yes," Joy says, and then,"You're perfect too," sincerity naked on her face.
"No, I'm not," he says, half laughing, "but I believe that you believe it."
"Exactly," she says, and catches his hand, presses a kiss to his wrist. "Just that."
Yes.
Just that.
Rating: PG.
Summary: He didn't mean for her to hear it.
Date: 2017
Notes: none.
Theoretically, they're watching a movie, but Joy's half asleep, and having trouble not going all the way, what with her head in Michael's lap and his fingers combing softly through her hair. It doesn't help that it's a quiet movie, some kind of mindbending French romance that she can't quite follow, especially since she's been drifting in and out for the last several minutes.
She's just about to give up and fall properly asleep when Michael's fingers still in her hair. A moment later, he exhales, and says, softly, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
She freezes.
--
He didn't mean for her to hear it. Not that he minds Joy knowing that; he tells her in little ways all the time, and she isn't unobservant. It's just... saying it out loud. There's something a little embarrassing, a little heartbreaking about it, and he can tell from the way she goes still in his lap that she knows that.
Joy rolls over to look up at him, her blue eyes wide and serious, her head tucked in the crease of his thigh and stomach. "Am I?"
No point denying it now. Michael shrugs. "Yeah. Except for Danny, maybe."
--
"Well, Danny," she says, smiling a little, hoping to ease the mood. It doesn't work, but she wasn't really expecting it to work. She reaches up, cups his cheek, his stubble softly prickly against her palm. "I'd hoped... that you had better things in your life. Not that I'm not fabulous."
That gets her a smile and a little huff of laughter, breathy on her wrist. She smiles broader, reassured, and lets her hand drop, caressing his shoulder and arm along the way.
Michael shifts beneath her, slips a hand under her head. When he finally speaks, it's halting, but sure.
--
"Everyone in my life," he says, choosing words like precious stones, "either they under- or overestimate me. Either they say-- 'no way you're disabled,' or they act like I'll break." Which, to be fair, he will. He revises that. "I mean, they act like I can't take care of myself."
Joy snorts gently, but says nothing, only tucks an arm around his waist and listens.
"You and Danny don't," he says, at last. "I don't know how or why you get it right. But you do. You're... perfect."
He's not talking about Danny now, and he knows she knows it.
--
Joy thinks over what he's said very carefully before she speaks.
"I'm a dancer," she says, when she's got it all straight in her head. "I hurt myself all the time, you know that. And it's not like... what I do, it's not at all like what you live with. I could just stop dancing."
"No, you couldn't," Michael says, and she smiles.
"Well, no, I couldn't, but not like you can't stop. I guess I... when I hurt myself, you ask me what I need, and get it if you can. Why shouldn't I do the same for you?"
--
He bends and kisses her first, because it seems like the most important thing to do, a slow warm kiss, with how much he loves her written bright in each breathless moment. Then he traces the arch of her eyebrow with a fingertip, and says, "You are perfect, and I love you. Do you know that?"
"Yes," Joy says, and then,"You're perfect too," sincerity naked on her face.
"No, I'm not," he says, half laughing, "but I believe that you believe it."
"Exactly," she says, and catches his hand, presses a kiss to his wrist. "Just that."
Yes.
Just that.
