Amber wasn't doing anything she hadn't a thousand times before and none of it was more complicated than what a day at the hospital required; flipping eggs was nothing compared to reviving a patient who'd flatlined. But keeping track of the various pans while mixing batter required precision, especially if she wanted everything to be ready at exactly the same time-- which she did. Within a few minutes Amber found herself content, pleased with her simple success and the promise of an immediate reward. She almost forgot Eric's accusations.
Eric strolled in as she was finishing up; she spared him a glance, minding the vital last minute or so of cooking. It wouldn't do to mess up now and burn the eggs. Her brief glimpse reassured her that he was looking sharp and peaceful, further brightening her own mood. She turned off the fires and slid the sausages, eggs, and pancakes onto the plates she'd left nearby. "You better be hungry," she said teasingly. "Someone's got to eat this." But between their two generous appetites, it'd be just about enough for them.
Looking over her shoulder to say this, she saw that Eric peering beneath the table: oh fuck he wanted to know where the note was. Amber casually turned back to the plates as if she hadn't noticed him looking; if he didn't ask, all the better, because what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She imagined the way his face would twist to know the way she'd crumpled the love you; couldn't bear the thought. If he knew, he'd be more guarded, more wary. Such a stupid impulse, such a high price.
But he didn't ask; he just came to her, almost silent, and wrapped his arms about her; kissed her. Amber shivered into those light butterfly touches along her throat; leaned into his embrace, nuzzling her face against his. This. Reaffirmation. They'd been touching during their conversation and that had helped, but this was different. Caring, tender. She'd never known how much a touch could mean, before Eric. Amber folded her arms over his, swaying gently with him, and what she said came as naturally as a blush. "I love you too." Answering his note, his spontaneous and welcome affection.
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Eric strolled in as she was finishing up; she spared him a glance, minding the vital last minute or so of cooking. It wouldn't do to mess up now and burn the eggs. Her brief glimpse reassured her that he was looking sharp and peaceful, further brightening her own mood. She turned off the fires and slid the sausages, eggs, and pancakes onto the plates she'd left nearby. "You better be hungry," she said teasingly. "Someone's got to eat this." But between their two generous appetites, it'd be just about enough for them.
Looking over her shoulder to say this, she saw that Eric peering beneath the table: oh fuck he wanted to know where the note was. Amber casually turned back to the plates as if she hadn't noticed him looking; if he didn't ask, all the better, because what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She imagined the way his face would twist to know the way she'd crumpled the love you; couldn't bear the thought. If he knew, he'd be more guarded, more wary. Such a stupid impulse, such a high price.
But he didn't ask; he just came to her, almost silent, and wrapped his arms about her; kissed her. Amber shivered into those light butterfly touches along her throat; leaned into his embrace, nuzzling her face against his. This. Reaffirmation. They'd been touching during their conversation and that had helped, but this was different. Caring, tender. She'd never known how much a touch could mean, before Eric. Amber folded her arms over his, swaying gently with him, and what she said came as naturally as a blush. "I love you too." Answering his note, his spontaneous and welcome affection.