Benedict Cumberbatch Imagine- The Girl in the Window

Now That's Love

Dec 21, 2013

There will be a more Christams-y chapter coming out soon!!

You drop into a seat a few strides away from the tube doors, finally putting your Oyster card back in its slot as the automated ding went off, robotic voice beginning to tell its passengers the next stop, which with it came the subtle lurch forward as it began moving. The people beside you bumped arms against you and gave a small smile that was meant for apology before looking straight again. You have no idea who they are, nor they you.  For no particular reason, your heart falls a little and you bite your lip, despite it being the beginning of your holiday break.

With the card in its place and bag done up, you let you head fall back against the window and closed your eyes, lights flickering above causing your eyes to shift uneasily.  You can feel your head ease up, an upper beat tune flowing through the ear bud you had in, cord hidden under your coat.  The tube smelt a little better than usual, a soft cologne replacing the dominant stink it frequently holds, so, you suppose, that’s an upside.  It made you feel a little better.

It had been a particularly hard day, full of deadlines and phone calls and cranky people.  You looked forward greatly to getting home.  Mainly because Ben is home, even though it will be later tonight, and you want to have a quiet night in, modest dinner, small conversation with tea in hand as you talk about the day.

You can already see Ben’s hands moving eloquently through the air as he talked about his director and his co-stars, the overhead light bringing out his features adorably as his nose scrunches and eyes look past you animatedly.  He will talk about how amazing the set and people are, and that he loves it so.  And then he will stop for a breath and you smile at him still, and his eyes will sweep back to you and lock on yours, and a whole new shine takes hold of them, and he hunches in and leans towards you over the counter.  You will lean closer, refusing to look away, and he will tell you that he loves you, he could love nothing more than you.  And then he will suck in a sharp breath and straighten up quickly, as though nothing had ever happened and continue on.  But you can see his eyes glinting as he tells you all about the scene he went through today, and his breakthrough with his character.  And you know that you are on his mind, constantly.  He doesn’t have to tell you that; you can read it in the way he walks through the door, in the way his eyes go soft and widen just that tiny bit when he sees you, in the way his fingers softly curl around your waist.  You know.    

He came home last night after being abroad for almost a month, going all around for interviews in the US, with Jimmy Fallon, Conan O’Brien, going everywhere and doing everything.  You couldn’t join him, dedicated to your work as you are.  It was worth it to stay behind, but still…  While he had been gone, no matter how great the day was, something always felt just that little bit off.  But you accepted it, knowing you took in the terms when you took him, warts and all.  You truly wouldn’t have it any other way, but it does not stop you missing him.

A smile lights up your face as you remember the two of you decorating the place last night, stringing up glittering tinsels, mistletoe in the archway of each door, gingerbread in the oven, angel at the top of the glittering Christmas tree.  You made a joke about the pagan tradition, and he smiled, nudged you with his hip.  You giggled and pushed back, a little harder.  Then, you were at war, his nimble fingers finding your worst places until you were a squealing mass as he tickled you, you trying to push him away as you fell onto the couch amidst the pillows.  That is before you grabbed one of the pillows and fought him off, throwing it at him.  You sprang off the couch and leapt for the discarded thing, but his hands snatched your waist and pulled you to him, brining you into a kiss, your back to him, his fingers curled delicately under your chin as he angled you towards his, capturing your lips softly.  Silent Night played gorgeously in the background, and you felt tears drop off your cheeks.   He stopped when he noticed the wetness, removing the tears with a stroke of his thumb.  He looked you in the eyes with concern, giving you cause to get lost in them, when he asked you what was wrong.  You told him ‘Nothing.  Everything is perfect.  I can’t imagine anything being more perfect.’  He smiled and nodded knowingly before bringing you into another kiss.  You loved the moment.  You really, truly loved it, with it golden, warm, precious hue, and him holding you close as he whispered