1976

“I just don't think I know what aesthetic is me, I mean I like so many different types, you know.” You continued on, one hand lifting from his chest to run through your hair, combing your fingers through it as you felt the slightly sweat damp strands at the nape of your neck. “I think you always look pretty.” Andrew's voice was low but his tone soft, like it was a confession rather than a compliment. Your hand halts in your hair as the words falling from your lips pause as your gaze drops to his face, the corners of your lips involuntarily twitching upwards. It wasn't like he didn't compliment you, he did, often, but it was something about his tone and the way he was looking at you know, his gaze locked on your neck from under his lashes, like he didn't dare meet your eyes, like he was almost scared he had misstepped, that he had somehow broken the spell that seemed to be cast over this simple moment between you two. His hands momentarily stilling on your thighs like he was preparing to pull away, bracing for something, as if half expecting you to reprimand him for interrupting you, or for voicing his opinion without it being asked for. But instead your hand fell from your hair and moved to cup his cheek, gently tilting it always enough as you guided his gaze to meet your own, a soft smile playing on your lips as you brushed your thumb over the corner of his lips, your tongue peeking out to wet your own before you spoke again. 

“I think you're pretty too.” voice quite almost mirroring his whisper as your gaze held his. Andrew almost swore his heart stopped beating for a second as your words reached his ears, which was silly because you had called him pretty before, quite a few times honestly, but it still seemed to have quite the effect on him. But in all fairness how could it not when you where looking at him like that, when you where touching him so softly, your thumb tracing the line of his lower lip, and the way you had said it, so soft and sweet and god he was so lucky, how did he get this lucky, you, his beautiful angel faced, sweet girl,  were sitting on his lap calling him pretty. You caught the way the corner of his lips twitch in a barely suppressed smile and how his cheeks seemed to pinken a shade, completely unrelated to the heat, and most importantly how his eyes seemed to shine and how his head tiled into your touch. Before you could think to say anything else Andrew's arms were wrapping around you, one around your waist, the other tangling in your hair as he cradled the back of your head, pulling you down until your chest was pressed to his. His face moving to bury in your neck as if to try and hide from the rise of emotions that seemed to be bubbling up inside of him as he led you close. And despite the heat you didn't dare move a centimeter, rather turning your head just enough to press a kiss to his head before whispering into his hair, voice slightly muffled by the auburn curls. “My pretty boy.” 

It had been a long day and you both just wanted to be in each other's presents, eating leftovers and watching some corny romcom he had sworn he was only watching for your sake, but the slight sheen in his eyes at the ending begged to differ. Now you two were out cold, legs tangled together under the sheets as his arms were wrapped securely around your waist, his chest pressed to your back and his nose buried in your hair, despite the heat of the summer he still clung to you like the drowning man clinging to a liferaft. His deep breathing and the gentle rise and fall of his chest against your back was a comforting rhythm, his soft snores in your ear, they used to wake you but now they seemed more like your own personal lullaby. As nice as it was, being cuddled up with him like this, the heat was starting to get to you even with the ac blasting, your throat felt dry and you could start to feel sweat decorating your skin where your back was pressed to his chest. So reluctantly you opened your eyes, met with the darkness of the bedroom, slowly moving, trying to untangle your legs from his and gently pry his arms from your waist, which was a more delicate and difficult procedure than open heart surgery, or so you believe. Slipping out of bed as you pad through the apartment, knowing the layout by heart after spending enough nights this month sleeping over, and making your way to the kitchen in search of a glass, hoping a drink of water might be the solution. Having just procured a glass from the cabinet and turned to the sink, turning on the tap you hear the dull thud of sleepy footsteps moving through the apartment and closer to your location. Turning the tap off once your glass is full and lifting it to your lips, you take a sip, letting the cool liquid sooth your throat as your eyes linger closed a beat longer than normal between blinks as you savor the relief before slowly turning in the direction of the footsteps. Your stomach doing that silly little flutter as your eyes land on the sight in front of you, your boyfriend, your darling boyfriend standing there, hair sticking up in all different directions, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his sleep shirt, one of those old graphic tees that has some corny medical pun written across the front ‘Im an EMTerrific guy’ slipping forward and exposing a sliver of his collarbones. His eyes barely open and the blues of them almost gone entirely with how wide his pupils were, the room dim as the moonlight coming through the window casting just enough light for you to see each beautifully sleep mused feature, his lips turned down at the corners as his lower lip jutted out slightly, looking like the epitome of a kicked puppy. You couldn't help but smile softly at the sight because god he was unfairly cute. 

“Hi, baby.” You greet as you take another sip of water, watching as he steps closer, giving you a slight huff of an exhale in response before sliding his hands around your waist, fingers instinctively sliding under the hem of your top as he placed his hand between your shoulderblades, pulling you gently closer as he slumps forward into you, his forehead landing on your shoulder as he hugged you. Standing there, glass still in hand as you take another slip of water, allowing him this slightly one sided hug, you were beyond used to this behavior from him. “You alright?” you ask nevertheless, as you place the glass down on the counter by the sink as your hands find their way to his hips, resting there lightly. You don't get an answer from him, well not a verbal one, his head lifting just enough to press a featherlight kiss to your shoulder where his forehead was previously resting, before nuzzling into the crook of your neck with an almost petulant sounding grumble, lips still in that little point, clearly not alright with the situation as he was not at all pleased to have woken up moments ago with you gone from his hold. Standing there in the silence of the early hour as your thumb gently strokes back and forth over his hip where your hands rest comfortably, feeling the way he clings to you like an oversized koala even now. After another minute or so you finally say “Let's go back to bed.”A soft suggestion that he clearly seems happy with as you feel his lips curve upwards against the skin of your neck, still not moving from his place as he take a deep breath of your scent before finally straightening up, still not uttering a single word as his hands slip from your back and waist, instead one trailing down the back of your forearm until his hand met yours, his long rough fingers sliding into yours as he intertwined them. In return you give his hand a soft squeeze as you catch sight of his sleepy expression, his slow blinking before he turns back in the direction of the bedroom, gently but maybe just a little impatient tugging you along, eager to get you back in his arms properly and back to sleep. Hours later, once morning truly came he was more than sure to keep a tight grip of you, legs tangled and every inch pressed to him, not even allowing you to consider getting out of bed as he held you close, making up for lost time, or at least that's how he thought of it. 

 “Nothing.” You mumbled behind the rim of your mug as your eyes shifted to his face before being pulled back to his biceps like they were bloody magnetized to the spot. With a soft huff Jack pushed himself back up, using a little more force this time as he pushed up into a standing position, back to being fully vertical. His hands linking behind his back as he rolled his shoulders back and started swaying just slightly from side to side with his fingers still interlinked, a hum sound vibrating in his throat a clear indication that he didn't believe you in the slightest. His lips slightly pursed as his gaze slowly trailed over you, the slope of your shoulders, the way your fingers were wrapped around the mug, how your thighs were spread out, squashed against the counter top, the corner of his lips twitching upwards as he dragged his gaze back up to return to your face as he took a step forward. An amused twinkle formed in his eyes as he looked at you. “What?” You're the one to ask this time as  he takes another step closer, his eyes never leaving you as you could feel the heat of him now with how close he was. Slowly he lent down, ducking his head a little as he leaned in, his hands still linked together behind his back as he pressed his lips to yours in a soft little peck, the kiss featherlight and sweet in its simplicity. Before you could really react, your heart was doing that little fluttering thing it did whenever he, well, did anything really, jack pulled back just a little, his breath fanning your lips as he whispered. “Nothing” tone feigning innocence as he partied your answer right back to you, smug little prick. Tilting his chin up just a smidge, his lips meeting yours again, tasting the peppermint this time. 

The bedroom was quiet, the only sound being your slow steady breathing synced up with his. Jack had got home from his night shift only a few minutes ago, his keys in the bowl near the front door, his back dropped by the leg of a chair in the living room on his way to the bedroom. He had thankfully taken his lunch box out and rinsed the containers in the sink as he never wanted to leave them in his bag overnight, he appreciated you packing his lunch too much to ever show such disrespect. And now he lay, prosthetic leg resting at the foot of the bed as he had removed it almost on autopilot, hands making smooth work before reaching for the hem of his scrub shirt, pulling it up and over his head, leaving him in a simple long sleeve cotton t-shirt with the sleeves having been shoved up to his elbows while dealing with an incoming trauma, before crawling up the bed and towards you. As of right now you sat positioned against the headboard, pillows staked behind you, hair mussed from sleep, eyes still a little blurry around the edges and sunlight just starting to creep through the curtains. In one hand you held your kindle, reading some romance novel that you had struggled to put down the night before, a slow burn that managed to have you kicking your feet and smiling to yourself like some giddy fool. Jack had bought you the kindle, happy to indulge you in your hobbies, besides it had ended up working out for him too, as now gushed over whatever you happen to be reading, he got to enjoy seeing that spark in your eyes and that happy smile that seemed to never leave your lips as he explained animatedly the plot of some novel he swore sounded more like a fever dream than a book. But he would listen, and maybe just maybe when you mentioned some of the stuff the men in the books you were reading were doing, and he saw that pretty little blush that dusted your cheeks, maybe he pictured how you would react if he were to do those same things, and maybe he might have offered to recreate some of those scenes or get you to read them to him while he kept himself occupied between your thighs… but that's a story for another time.

 Right now however, he was laying on top of you, or more accurately he was laying on your chest, his lower half resting on the mattress between your legs as his arms held secure around your waist. His large warm hands splayed over your sides as they moved, caressing your waist, palm pressing to your spine, his thumb stroking back and forth absentmindedly, like he couldn't quite believe that you were real.  Your hand that wasn't holding the kindle was on his head, fingers slide into salt and pepper strands as you played with the curls of his head, twisting one around your finger before carding your hand through his hair, letting your nails lightly graze his scalp as you felt him relax further on top of you, his shoulders seeming to lose some of their tension. Jack's eyes stayed closed, his cheek pressed to the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, inhaling slowly as the scent of you filled his longs, making something settle in his chest like his body was realizing it was indeed home. His arms stayed securely wrapped around your waist, not even considering letting you go as he felt the steady rise and fall of your chest under him, the warmth of your skin under his rough fingertips. Turning his head just slightly as he tilted his chin up just enough for him to press his lips to the swell of your breast through the material of your sleep wear, his grazing softly, not hungry or leading, more like he had so much love inside of him, felt his chest growing almost tight with it that he simply needed a way to let it out, to show it some how, how utterly endeared to you he was. He head resting back down as he nuzzled closer, arms tightening in a light squeeze as his knee bent and hiked up to the side, like he was actively trying to bury his way under your skin. Glazing down at him when you felt the graze of his lips as you continued to watch him, eyes tracing over him with a fond gaze as you saw how in his attempt to crawl into your soul, his shirt had ridden up, his movement causing it to rise up his broad back. Theoretically you could have just let it be, maybe even pulled it back down to cover him up, but you were only human, so indeed your hand in his hair moved, traveling down until it reached the hem of his shirt, and pulled it up further, exposing the softly freckled skin of his back. You felt him still for a heartbeat before letting out a slow breath as your fingertips grazed over his skin before slowly dragging your nails along the line of his spine in a light scratching fashion. The action drawing a sound from Jack that he would refuse to acknowledge until his dying breath, though if you had to describe it, you would more than likely call it a whimper, a soft, pathetically desperate sounding whimper that had the corners of your lips twitching upwards and repeating the action. Jack didn't dare move now, he felt his skin tingle and his own lashes flutter against the tips of his cheeks, as his head was now resting higher on your chest, his cheek smushed against skin that peeked out form the neckline of your shirt, hearing the steady beat of your heart under his ear. The gentle rhythm of your heart and the soft scratches to his back, along with the scent of yours mixed with his that filled the room, Jack sincerely believed he had somehow made it into heaven, so he lay there, still, as his own breathing began to slow as sleep started to pull at him and his body melted atop yours.