twostandingby | (no subject)

Entry tags:

oom,
winter

(no subject)

Shove the stick to the left, throwing the X-wing into a sharp roll, and Tycho should feel the pull of the manuever even with the intertial compensator, but there's nothing. The simulators at Milliways are incredibly rudimentary; no simulated motion or even comm chatter. It's not flying. It's playing.

Still, it's as close as it comes to the real thing while Bound, and so Tycho is tucked behind the black curtain of one of the simulators in the recently (poorly) repainted room, determinedly vaping TIE Interceptors.

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Faint nod. "That would make sense."

She rolls over and looks down at him, kissing his cheek softly, staying quiet.

Tycho's quiet, too. This day tends to have that effect on him.

She curls up beside him, wrapping her arms around his chest, her leg thrown over his.

"I miss Arnua," he says thoughtfully after a time, tracing a solitary crack in the ceiling with his eyes. "The fields-- you know how green everything was?" That color doesn't exist off-planet. Which means it doesn't exist at all anymore.

"Yes. Everywhere was so green. Even in the cities. And you can't find water as blue...or a world as perfect, anywhere else." She says, closing her eyes, carefully.

They open quickly afterwards.

He laughs softly. "Sometimes I wonder if we'd all feel the same way if Alderaan hadn't been destroyed. Do we only think it's perfect because it's beyond our reach?"

"After seeing all the other worlds out there...yes. I would still think that." Winter nods.

He's silent a moment, and then there's a rueful half-smile because he's disproving his own point. "I think I would, too."

"Home's always perfect after you leave, anyway." She murmurs into his shoulder.

"Isn't that what I just said?" he asks wryly, kissing the top of her head.

"Well, I meant, whether or not it was still there." Winter pokes him.

"Ow," he protests (it didn't hurt) good-naturedly, twitching away from her finger.

She sits up, looming over him, and kisses him.

"Mmmph." He leans up on one elbow to return it.

She slants her mouth over his, deepening the kiss, running her hand down his torso.

He leans up a little farther, makes a low noise into her mouth-- then pulls away, raising his free hand to her face and looking at her a moment, blue eyes on green in the dimly-lit room.

She nods. "Yeah."

She leans down, closing the distance between them again and whispers against his lips, "Happy lifeday."

Then she kisses him again.

A quiet, muffled laugh (which admittedly isn't that mirthful); his lifeday is many things, but one that it usually isn't--hasn't been for the past fourteen years--is happy.

Not happy, but Winter is here. It could be a lot worse.

He sinks his hand into white hair and falls back, pulling her with him.

One hand goes behind his neck, the other still on his chest, as she sidles up closer. She pulls away, for air, then kisses his jawline.

A jawline which is not-so-subtly tipped toward her as his hands travel down her back.

Kisses go up his jawline till she gets to his ear, drawing his earlobe into her mouth.

He releases a slow breath, and warm fingers are sliding up just under the hem of her shirt, running across bare skin.

She shivers, wiggling a little, nibbling on his ear.

There is a hand on her side, abruptly tugging her entirely on top of him with little regard for boots and sharp elbows that seem to be drawn to his kidneys.