idk if this scene will stay in my zoe baker longfic or not so here y'all go
The room smelled faintly of coffee. Not strong — just enough to drift through the air, waft gently towards her nostrils. The room was was warm; quiet. Still. The kind of thing that was enough to stir her gently from whatever dream she was having.
For a moment, she didn’t open her eyes. She stayed where she was, half-buried in the blankets, just listening — to the low hum of the heater, to the distant creak of the house settling, to something softer, closer, something she could sense without having to open her eyes at all.
There was breathing to her left. Steady; familiar.
Reflexively, Mia closed her eyes at the glistening sunlight pouring into the room and burrowed deeper into the covers, not quite ready to accept that she was awake yet. It was morning, but early. Too early for anything urgent.
Too early, she thought blearily.
How strange it was to wake up on a pale morning like this. How strange to wake up anywhere but a dirty cell.
The thought made Mia finally open her eyes and turn her head.
Ethan was already awake, of course. He sat at the opposite edge of the bed, a mug cradled carefully in both hands. Steam curled up past his face, and in the low light, he looked less…burdened. Maybe that thousand yard stare was less long in this light.
He looked over when he felt her move.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
His voice was gentle, but there was something just beneath it — something tired, something that told her he hadn’t slept, even if he’d tried to.
Mia watched him for a second longer than she meant to.
“Hey,” she echoed, her voice still thick with sleep.
He shifted, just slightly, like he wasn’t sure if he should come closer or give her space. Then he made the decision, easing back toward her and holding the mug out.
“I made coffee,” he murmured. “Figured you’d want some.”
She pushed herself up slowly, and accepted the mug he offered her, cupping her hands around the white ceramic. The heat and solidity of it poured into her hands, a reminder that this was real. He was real.
Her voice came out quiet, almost like a croak. “Thanks.”
Ethan said nothing, and a small pause settled between them. Not uncomfortable. Just… careful.
Mia took a sip, wincing slightly at the heat, but not pulling away. It tasted right: strong, but not too bitter. Exactly how she used to like it. He’d remembered, after all these years.
She glanced up at him over the rim of the mug.
“Early,” Ethan said, after a beat. Then, softer, “Didn’t check.”
That made her smile, just a little. Of course he didn’t.
Her eyes lingered on him — the set of his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed faintly against his knees, like he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands when they weren’t holding something. That feeling came back again: the one that made her feel as though they were sewn together with invisible thread, and she immediately wanted to scoot closer to him.
“You’ve been up a while,” she mumbled instead. Not a question.
Ethan huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh.
“Yeah. Couldn’t really—” He trailed off, shrugging. “Y’know.”
Mia looked down at the coffee again. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
It wasn’t like before, and she hated it. Before, silence had been easy. Background noise. Something you didn’t notice. Now it felt like something they were both stepping around, careful not to press too hard on the wrong part of it.
Ethan reached out, almost automatically, brushing a dark strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. Then, almost shyly, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on the back of her neck.
Mia let her eyes close for a second, letting the warmth settle in, and breathed out slowly.
This is warm. This is good. This isn’t the cell.
Then, to her shock and his, she burst into tears.
