Sketch

95 - Sam

Light-hearted fluff.  But I felt like Sam and Emmy needed to be reminded how much they love each other.  Enjoy!  (Sorry again at the huge gap between posts!)

Tanya had gone on to explain that she wanted the good memories to outweigh the bad ones in her box of Sketch memories, and that she was going to make a scrap book starting from now so we'd have something to aim for.  Not that we don't have anything other to aim for now, but I suppose it does help.  None-the-less, we've been given the week off.  Tanya says she wants us to relax and bond again, without the threat of losing everything looming over us, but with the threat that big it's hard to just forget about it.

"I mean, we could always get the train somewhere?  A beach?  That should be relaxing, right?"

Emmy looks so cute talking to me with her head on the pillow next to mine.  She's holding the duvet just under her chin with one hand and the other hand is twirling strands of hair in her fingers.

The clock on the bedside table behind her reads half past midnight and I can't help yawning.

"We can always think of ideas tomorrow?" she adds, seeing my eyes droop as I hold my hand over my mouth to try and disguise the escaped yawn.

"Yeah," I agree.  "Right now I just want cuddles."

Her expression goes from thoughtful to bright in an instant.

"Yay," she says with a giggle, manoeuvring herself to press against me.   The duvet slips from where it had been in front of her like a barricade, letting the bare skin of her arms touch mine.

I wrap my hands around her waist, my thumbs tracing lines on her hip bones.

She sighs.  "I could stay like this forever."

The suggestion makes me smile.  "Now that would be nice."

Emmy snuggles into the crock of my shoulder, her breath hot on my neck.  "I love you, Sam."

My heart flutters and I smile into her hair. It tickles my nose and I have to momentarily will myself not to sneeze.  "I love you too."

She pulls back, her eyes studying me seriously.  "I really love you."

"And I really love you," I assure her.

"I mean it."  She bites her lip.  "Like you could shave your hair really short and I'd hate it but I'd still love you.  Or you could wear polka dots and I'd still love you."

"Polka dots?"  I laugh.

"I hate them," she replies.  "Don't even ask why."

I nod.  "Okay I won't, but you should know that I mean it when I say I love you too.  You can't do anything to make me not love you."

Her forehead creases with a frown and it's an unusually endearing sight.  "Not even if I shave my hair off?"

"It'll grow back.  Hair comes and goes but there's only one of you."  I suddenly cringe at how stupid I sound.  "Really, Emmy.  You make the inner nerd come out of me."

"I think it's cute," she assures me, stroking my cheek.  "It's nice that you say how you really feel instead of hiding it because you think that's what men are supposed to do."

"My face is an open book."  I think my words over.  I used to think being sensitive was a fault I should be ashamed of, but now I know that it's a trait I should be proud of.   A sudden rush of bravery makes me move my hands to the top of Emmy's legs and then down to her thighs. 

She tenses a little before letting out a breath.  "I love your hands on me."

I smile so hard I can feel my cheeks squashing into the pillow. "Good, because I love holding you."