She's starting to wish she was that drunk. Especially when he confirms that. Not that it matters, she's gone obviously. And not that it would have mattered anyway, she tells herself, because there isn't anything she wants from him. However, the confirmation makes her swallow and she reaches over to pour another glass, working her way to his level. They'd both pass out on the counter at this point.
Whether it's about caring or collecting information so she has the bigger picture, she isn't quite sure herself. She isn't so well adjusted as to want happiness for others when it could potentially be a wedge in her own happiness, but she doesn't fault him either. She'd had her own fair share of men in her life that had come and gone. Mostly because she couldn't ever give all of herself and she wasn't one to be controlled. But she doesn't not care, so it's a start.
"I dunno. She's obviously not here anymore, so that's got you upset. Who was she? When did she leave? She come from our world?" It's intense the way she feels, so she reaches for a little teasing to make herself more comfortable...if not him. "You used protection right? Tell me you used protection."
It’s a lot of questions, and it takes Jesse longer than it should to process each one. Tangled up in that is the fact that Ashe even cares, which is its own kind of confusing. He’s upset, and she’s not enjoying it, or at the very least ambivalent. It’s curious.
Anyway, he chose a bad time to sneak in a sip of whiskey. It’ll make answering easier, he thinks, but he hadn’t been expecting the questions to get to quite that level of personal. He chokes, coughing and almost-kind-of on the verge of laughing.
“Y-you… okay now, first of all, ‘course I would’ve. But we weren’t ever…” He coughs again, waving a hand dismissively. “We didn’t get there.”
They’d both had their hang-ups and their fears, old pains and losses. Maybe, if they’d had a little more time…
He’s at least not quite so gloomy when he finally gets his throat clear again. He’s clearly still melancholy, but there’s a touch of something warm now. A hint of fondness.
“Her name was Rei. Rei Kurosawa. Was April when she left, I think… early April. She wasn’t from the same Earth as us, but it was similar. Older. No omnics, but they had cell phones. She had an old camera, one of those you’d use film in. Knew all the settings somehow. Never did wrap my whole brain around it, but she could take a picture like nobody’s business.”
The response lightens the situation, and she can't help but give her own small laugh at his response. It occurs to her that teasing him into the answer ended up with him answering the question she really wanted to know. She's surprised when she feels suddenly a little more relaxed. They hadn't been intimate. Once again, she's mentally scolding herself for even being relieved because it's not like she had wanted that. Except that her mind returns to their over the top make out a few weeks back. "Shame. If you gotta be stuck here, good to have somethin' enjoyable to pass the time." Except that she hadn't slept with anyone either, so it wasn't like she was out passing it that way.
She takes another drink and leans her cheek into her palm to watch him as he goes on about her. Sounded like a Japanese name. There were so many different Earths, and other worlds in this place. It was hard to keep track of. She listens to him talk, relaxing some in the more casual conversation, she even nods to show she's hearing him. Then something catches her mind. "Wait? April? Beginnin' of April? That was the same time I showed up." She whistles low. "Deerington sent your girlfriend home and dragged me in. I take it back. Deerington is fuckin' with you."
It had been around the same time, hadn’t it? He’d still been recovering from the loss, and then there was Ashe. He chuckles quietly, looking down at his drink and then back over at her. She’s not changed since then, but something else has. The dynamic between them is a whole other thing now.
“Not gonna lie, thought for sure you and I were gonna end up in an old-fashioned shoot-out. I know how much you wanted a bullet in me.” More like several bullets, probably one for each time he’d pissed her off—and that’s got to be a lot of lead.
“I’m just lucky you didn’t shoot on sight. This truce we got goin’ on ain’t half bad, is it?”
She had made a lot of noise over the years about shooting him, hadn't she? It wasn't that she was all bark and no bite, because people knew she was faster than a rattlesnake and twice as easily pissed off, but she could also be a lot of bark. His pictures hung all over her dartboards filled with holes from enraged games of darts, but she never seemed to give enough. She accused her team of falling to pieces when he showed up, but her leadership seemed to go shit when he was around. It seemed that she was forever yelling grandiose declarations of war to his back when things were said and done.
"Thought crossed my mind. But I seem to have more luck shooting your photographs than I do you." It wasn't that they couldn't still get into it, considering Deerington seemed to drag up the dirt, but she wasn't dumb. She'd partnered with gangs she had been furious with to accomplish a greater goal, and likewise she'd seen the benefit of partnering with him. Except over the years she had come to respect a lot of those gang members and they her. Seemed the same was happening here. Maybe there was some truth to the fact that when you worked with a person, you started to wonder why you hadn't in the first place.
"Oh, I thought about it. I was still pretty pissed over my bike." She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes for a moment in thought, before opening them and looking at him softly. "No, it ain't. It seems okay, even got you workin' with me again instead of against me. Besides, since comin' here, I've started wonderin' if I'll ever manage to get a bullet into you. This place...it makes you tired."
See, Chloe? People don’t shoot at pictures of people they harbor any not-angry feelings towards, do they? Jesse makes a drunken-and-likely-to-be-forgotten mental note to mention that to her later. Doesn’t matter to him right then that he’s had plenty of reasons to doubt his assumptions about Ashe’s opinion of him in the last few months. All that matters when he’s this full of alcohol is that he was right, dammit.
Hard to celebrate though, when Ashe says that last thing. He nods, expression going tight as he watches her. She does look tired. Or maybe part of that is just how she seems so relaxed, like she’s not gearing up for a fight of some kind or bracing for a blow.
He’d assumed that she was only like that around him these days. Always ready for the next hit, the next betrayal. Maybe this is what she looks like more with the people she trusts. Or—a less comforting thought—maybe Ashe doesn’t actually get to relax that much at all, anywhere, and that’s how she is all the time.
“Yeah. It does. Wears you down.” He’s still watching her face, perhaps a little too intently.
“But you’re not in it alone.”
He’s not sure why he says it like that. He’s obviously not the first person she’d want to turn to for help or support or anything else. But they are working together now, and… just because they had been enemies back home doesn’t mean he wants to see her fall apart here, like so many other people have.
The alcohol in her own system was probably the cause of her openly suggesting that she wasn't really doing very well at actively shooting him. It was more a hint to the fact that something was holding her back from doing it. Shooting his pictures was easy, accomplishing it in reality was a different matter. Not that in the heat of the moment she wasn't dedicated, but after holding him dying she had been questioning her resolve.
So much of her life was on hold at the moment. Without a gang network to run, she had far less on her shoulders. Her business in Deerington didn't hold a candle to what she had going back home. Despite that she wasn't living her usual life, she was living. It was odd to think that she'd been getting comfortable here, but in some ways it was true. She could handle the things tossed her way for the most part. With Jesse she was surprised how easily she fell into old habits. Half a year of him being a central role in her life again and she would having been lying if she had said she hated him. What she felt was confusing, but just the look in her eyes as she watches him suggests a comfortably familiarity.
She's stuck in a conundrum because truth is, he is the first person she would go to in this place, yet she isn't quite at trusting, but she'd find some way and some excuse to go to him first. And when he says she isn't alone, she blinks a couple of times as she feels the knot return.
"Naw, they were smart enough to bring B.O.B. here to pick up after me." The teasing way she says that suggests that's not who she's really thinking of, but she couldn't outright tell him that she had him. Still watching his face though she chews at the inside of her lip. He was so damn attractive and it was hard to look away, especially when liquor was slowing her brain. She leans in slightly, eyes not leaving his and she reaches out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. "Neither are you. B.O.B.'s got your back too." It was a way of saying she was there for him, because the omnic only would be with her okay. Her fingers linger, how long had it been since she'd really touched him. Party not counting. "Even without that girl of yours."
Jesse huffs a quiet laugh, looking for the first time that night like there isn’t the weight of the world on his shoulders. It doesn’t fix it all, and it won’t bring those who are gone back. But having her here, right now in this moment, makes things feel… right.
It shouldn’t though. He knows it, but he also knows what he feels—that in the midst of all this craziness and danger, there’s a rightness in having her here and fighting beside him. Them against the world again, only in an entirely different way.
Time feels like it slows down at the brush of her fingers against his forehead. He’s looking back at her, completely unable to even glance away, held there as if by some magnetic force. He tilts his head into her touch, just a little.
God, but she’s still beautiful. And more dangerous than ever. And still so stubborn, so loyal, and… wait, what had the point of this thought been?
“B.O.B. has always been one of the best sentient non-humans I know. Guess we’re both lucky.”
She could still recall every memory of those days when they'd been on their own, before she'd started Deadlock with him and the other two leaders. It hadn't been the easiest time in her life when she'd been scraping by on one small score after another, moving from one motel to another. And in so many ways those days were the best of her life, because she'd never felt more free or less alone. Even as they grew and surrounded themselves in wealth and success, what had mattered most at the time was that she hadn't been alone. She'd loved so hard that she'd flipped to the other side, and now that hatred was losing steam. It didn't mean the complications were gone, but sitting there with him and spending time working with him reminded her that her best friend was sitting there next to her.
The subtle feel of him turning towards her touch registers and her fingers linger, palm moving to cup his cheek. Her own eyes stare back at him, and she feels the intensity of the moment. She glad it's getting late and most people have made their leave my now. Even the bartender seems to pay them no attention. It's like being alone in their own little world again.
"I, forgot," she whispers, taking a shaky breath. "I forget that you weren't my enemy." She's seeing him in a new light, all the weeks and months of things that have happened where he's been a constant in her life. She feels a bit nervous, and she wonders when she got closer to him. "I...have my rules. All those things I live by." Her own personal wall of control and protection. "But, I think I might be...breakin' them." She blinks a couple of times of times, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm a liar, Jesse. I can't...kill you..." She was no more serious about it than when she'd been a teenager chasing him around and screaming about shooting him for some dumb offense against her.
They’ve cried in front of each other before, so this isn’t the first time Jesse has seen tears in her eyes. It hits him just the same though. Like something in his own chest has cracked right down the middle. His hand is on her face in seconds, his calloused thumb wiping the tear away. They’re mirroring one another now, a fact he’s mostly aware of because of how good her palm feels against his cheek. Comforting. Warm.
But unlike years ago, Jesse doesn’t know what she needs from him now. What he should say, what he should do… it had never been easy, but he’d always known the gist of what she needed from him. A fight. A hug. A single cigarette, shared in silence.
What she’d just told him doesn’t help him get his thoughts in order either. He wants to believe it, more than he thought he would. But…
“You’re drunk, Ashe.” His smile is sad, his voice soft, even if there’s barely anyone left around to hear it anyway. “Never did hold it against you y’know. You gunnin’ for me. I… I did wish it could’ve been different.” His thumb brushes her cheek again, this time without the excuse of a rogue tear to justify it. “I gave you plenty of ammo, didn’t I?”
She's a difficult woman. There was no question about it, and she was definitely hard to read. With her short fuse and explosive temper, she knew underneath it all that there really wasn't a reason for anyone to stay around her. Even those that did, she kept at arm's length. Her eyes widen slightly in shock when he brings his thumb up to brush the tear away. She hadn't even be aware that it had rolled down her cheek.
Her eyes catch his again and she's not even surprised by his doubt. She's done more than enough damage to their trust that she isn't surprised that he's doubtful. You didn't exactly encourage the building of bridges when you shouted out into the world that you wanted someone dead. If her team could see her now, they'd be just as doubtful as she was. Well, except maybe the other founders, they knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.
She gives a tiny nod, still unable to tear her eyes away. "Yeah. I'm drunk. So are you?" Her fingers moved down to his neck. "Maybe I'll deny it later, but you should know damn well I don't lie very well when drunk." There was no fight in her at that moment, but she understands. Trust was going to take more to build, for both of them, but she couldn't get the desire to be close out of her head. She has to get the word out though, before she walls it off again. "I got left. Same as you. Still stuck in the middle of it all. I sat in plenty of bars and wondered why the people I wanted to love couldn't stay." She pauses as she collects her thoughts. "And you... you've been one hell of an asshole." A sad smile curls at one corner of her lip.
She’s right about that. Ashe can hold her liquor with the best of them, but her ability to lie does take a hit for it. Maybe those who didn’t know her well couldn’t tell, but Jesse usually could. Except when he’s equally as drunk—or more so, as the case is now.
That ache in his chest turns sharp quick, leaving him feeling stricken. She’s never talked to him like this before about what happened. Honestly, he’s never had much of a chance to hear her side of it. He’d assumed a lot, and the few interactions they’d had post-Blackwatch had solidified them in his mind.
Apparently, he’d been wrong. Very wrong, if she’s telling the truth.
He doesn’t think about what he does next until he’s doing it. His hand slips back into her hair, cradling her head as he leans forward. His forehead rests against her own. It’s more a sort of embrace than a prelude to anything else, even with the sudden lack of distance between them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
Didn’t think. Hadn’t asked. Had been so focused on himself and his own wounds, he hadn’t fully seen the damage he’d left strewn out behind him.
It hadn't exactly been fair of her to respond as she had the first time she'd seen him. The way he'd changed though had felt so threatening and it hadn't allowed a lot of time for friendly conversation. She'd changed too. Where once they had faced the horrors together, they had both seen so many new horrors on their own. She'd been quick to anger with her perceived rejection and from there things has spiraled out of her control and it wasn't until Deerington that she'd been able to look at him with any common sense.
There is shock and warmth as she feels him close the gap between her. For a second she'd thought he might have been going for more than just resting their foreheads together, but everything he gave her felt like a touch she'd been starving for. Few wanted to be close to her, and she certainly didn't give off the vibe that she might actually want to be held or treated with care. She had always known Jesse to be like some whisperer when it came to her, able to calm her storms as well as he could start them.
Her hand slid from his neck to move around his shoulder and hold him against her. Maybe they looked ridiculous to any onlookers, but she was desperate for the closeness. Short of B.O.B., and a few people she'd briefly allowed into her bed, she didn't have a lot of contact. And B.O.B., no matter how much she loved him, did not provide the same human warmth, and she left the others without any post-coital cuddling.
"...Me too." She whispered. Her head felt heavy and she turned her head a bit. The moment was perfect in some ways, but she couldn't quite bridge the gap to kiss his mouth, too unsure of what he wanted. Instead she pressed her lips to his cheek, before laying her head against his shoulder and burying her face into his neck. She breathed him in and he smelled exactly as he once had and she just needed to be close. "I missed you..."
Jesse hadn’t exactly given Ashe a fair chance either during that first reunion. He’d been keeping up with Deadlock and had seen where it was headed. He thought that told him what he needed to know about its leader as well. And she’d changed, sure, but maybe not in all the ways he’d thought. This is the same, at least… this simple touch. Her head on his shoulder. The two of them drunk and spilling secrets.
He doesn’t have the words for it himself, but he’s been starving for this kind of touch just as much. The warmth from that kiss on his cheek fills his chest, not quite wiping out the previous aches and pains. But it makes it manageable. He leans his cheek against the top of her head and just holds her there.
This night had started out being about the people he’s lost. How strange and wonderful how it has become about people found.
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Whether it's about caring or collecting information so she has the bigger picture, she isn't quite sure herself. She isn't so well adjusted as to want happiness for others when it could potentially be a wedge in her own happiness, but she doesn't fault him either. She'd had her own fair share of men in her life that had come and gone. Mostly because she couldn't ever give all of herself and she wasn't one to be controlled. But she doesn't not care, so it's a start.
"I dunno. She's obviously not here anymore, so that's got you upset. Who was she? When did she leave? She come from our world?" It's intense the way she feels, so she reaches for a little teasing to make herself more comfortable...if not him. "You used protection right? Tell me you used protection."
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Anyway, he chose a bad time to sneak in a sip of whiskey. It’ll make answering easier, he thinks, but he hadn’t been expecting the questions to get to quite that level of personal. He chokes, coughing and almost-kind-of on the verge of laughing.
“Y-you… okay now, first of all, ‘course I would’ve. But we weren’t ever…” He coughs again, waving a hand dismissively. “We didn’t get there.”
They’d both had their hang-ups and their fears, old pains and losses. Maybe, if they’d had a little more time…
He’s at least not quite so gloomy when he finally gets his throat clear again. He’s clearly still melancholy, but there’s a touch of something warm now. A hint of fondness.
“Her name was Rei. Rei Kurosawa. Was April when she left, I think… early April. She wasn’t from the same Earth as us, but it was similar. Older. No omnics, but they had cell phones. She had an old camera, one of those you’d use film in. Knew all the settings somehow. Never did wrap my whole brain around it, but she could take a picture like nobody’s business.”
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She takes another drink and leans her cheek into her palm to watch him as he goes on about her. Sounded like a Japanese name. There were so many different Earths, and other worlds in this place. It was hard to keep track of. She listens to him talk, relaxing some in the more casual conversation, she even nods to show she's hearing him. Then something catches her mind. "Wait? April? Beginnin' of April? That was the same time I showed up." She whistles low. "Deerington sent your girlfriend home and dragged me in. I take it back. Deerington is fuckin' with you."
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It had been around the same time, hadn’t it? He’d still been recovering from the loss, and then there was Ashe. He chuckles quietly, looking down at his drink and then back over at her. She’s not changed since then, but something else has. The dynamic between them is a whole other thing now.
“Not gonna lie, thought for sure you and I were gonna end up in an old-fashioned shoot-out. I know how much you wanted a bullet in me.” More like several bullets, probably one for each time he’d pissed her off—and that’s got to be a lot of lead.
“I’m just lucky you didn’t shoot on sight. This truce we got goin’ on ain’t half bad, is it?”
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"Thought crossed my mind. But I seem to have more luck shooting your photographs than I do you." It wasn't that they couldn't still get into it, considering Deerington seemed to drag up the dirt, but she wasn't dumb. She'd partnered with gangs she had been furious with to accomplish a greater goal, and likewise she'd seen the benefit of partnering with him. Except over the years she had come to respect a lot of those gang members and they her. Seemed the same was happening here. Maybe there was some truth to the fact that when you worked with a person, you started to wonder why you hadn't in the first place.
"Oh, I thought about it. I was still pretty pissed over my bike." She lets out a sigh and closes her eyes for a moment in thought, before opening them and looking at him softly. "No, it ain't. It seems okay, even got you workin' with me again instead of against me. Besides, since comin' here, I've started wonderin' if I'll ever manage to get a bullet into you. This place...it makes you tired."
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Hard to celebrate though, when Ashe says that last thing. He nods, expression going tight as he watches her. She does look tired. Or maybe part of that is just how she seems so relaxed, like she’s not gearing up for a fight of some kind or bracing for a blow.
He’d assumed that she was only like that around him these days. Always ready for the next hit, the next betrayal. Maybe this is what she looks like more with the people she trusts. Or—a less comforting thought—maybe Ashe doesn’t actually get to relax that much at all, anywhere, and that’s how she is all the time.
“Yeah. It does. Wears you down.” He’s still watching her face, perhaps a little too intently.
“But you’re not in it alone.”
He’s not sure why he says it like that. He’s obviously not the first person she’d want to turn to for help or support or anything else. But they are working together now, and… just because they had been enemies back home doesn’t mean he wants to see her fall apart here, like so many other people have.
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So much of her life was on hold at the moment. Without a gang network to run, she had far less on her shoulders. Her business in Deerington didn't hold a candle to what she had going back home. Despite that she wasn't living her usual life, she was living. It was odd to think that she'd been getting comfortable here, but in some ways it was true. She could handle the things tossed her way for the most part. With Jesse she was surprised how easily she fell into old habits. Half a year of him being a central role in her life again and she would having been lying if she had said she hated him. What she felt was confusing, but just the look in her eyes as she watches him suggests a comfortably familiarity.
She's stuck in a conundrum because truth is, he is the first person she would go to in this place, yet she isn't quite at trusting, but she'd find some way and some excuse to go to him first. And when he says she isn't alone, she blinks a couple of times as she feels the knot return.
"Naw, they were smart enough to bring B.O.B. here to pick up after me." The teasing way she says that suggests that's not who she's really thinking of, but she couldn't outright tell him that she had him. Still watching his face though she chews at the inside of her lip. He was so damn attractive and it was hard to look away, especially when liquor was slowing her brain. She leans in slightly, eyes not leaving his and she reaches out to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. "Neither are you. B.O.B.'s got your back too." It was a way of saying she was there for him, because the omnic only would be with her okay. Her fingers linger, how long had it been since she'd really touched him. Party not counting. "Even without that girl of yours."
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It shouldn’t though. He knows it, but he also knows what he feels—that in the midst of all this craziness and danger, there’s a rightness in having her here and fighting beside him. Them against the world again, only in an entirely different way.
Time feels like it slows down at the brush of her fingers against his forehead. He’s looking back at her, completely unable to even glance away, held there as if by some magnetic force. He tilts his head into her touch, just a little.
God, but she’s still beautiful. And more dangerous than ever. And still so stubborn, so loyal, and… wait, what had the point of this thought been?
“B.O.B. has always been one of the best sentient non-humans I know. Guess we’re both lucky.”
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The subtle feel of him turning towards her touch registers and her fingers linger, palm moving to cup his cheek. Her own eyes stare back at him, and she feels the intensity of the moment. She glad it's getting late and most people have made their leave my now. Even the bartender seems to pay them no attention. It's like being alone in their own little world again.
"I, forgot," she whispers, taking a shaky breath. "I forget that you weren't my enemy." She's seeing him in a new light, all the weeks and months of things that have happened where he's been a constant in her life. She feels a bit nervous, and she wonders when she got closer to him. "I...have my rules. All those things I live by." Her own personal wall of control and protection. "But, I think I might be...breakin' them." She blinks a couple of times of times, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm a liar, Jesse. I can't...kill you..." She was no more serious about it than when she'd been a teenager chasing him around and screaming about shooting him for some dumb offense against her.
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But unlike years ago, Jesse doesn’t know what she needs from him now. What he should say, what he should do… it had never been easy, but he’d always known the gist of what she needed from him. A fight. A hug. A single cigarette, shared in silence.
What she’d just told him doesn’t help him get his thoughts in order either. He wants to believe it, more than he thought he would. But…
“You’re drunk, Ashe.” His smile is sad, his voice soft, even if there’s barely anyone left around to hear it anyway. “Never did hold it against you y’know. You gunnin’ for me. I… I did wish it could’ve been different.” His thumb brushes her cheek again, this time without the excuse of a rogue tear to justify it. “I gave you plenty of ammo, didn’t I?”
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Her eyes catch his again and she's not even surprised by his doubt. She's done more than enough damage to their trust that she isn't surprised that he's doubtful. You didn't exactly encourage the building of bridges when you shouted out into the world that you wanted someone dead. If her team could see her now, they'd be just as doubtful as she was. Well, except maybe the other founders, they knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.
She gives a tiny nod, still unable to tear her eyes away. "Yeah. I'm drunk. So are you?" Her fingers moved down to his neck. "Maybe I'll deny it later, but you should know damn well I don't lie very well when drunk." There was no fight in her at that moment, but she understands. Trust was going to take more to build, for both of them, but she couldn't get the desire to be close out of her head. She has to get the word out though, before she walls it off again. "I got left. Same as you. Still stuck in the middle of it all. I sat in plenty of bars and wondered why the people I wanted to love couldn't stay." She pauses as she collects her thoughts. "And you... you've been one hell of an asshole." A sad smile curls at one corner of her lip.
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That ache in his chest turns sharp quick, leaving him feeling stricken. She’s never talked to him like this before about what happened. Honestly, he’s never had much of a chance to hear her side of it. He’d assumed a lot, and the few interactions they’d had post-Blackwatch had solidified them in his mind.
Apparently, he’d been wrong. Very wrong, if she’s telling the truth.
He doesn’t think about what he does next until he’s doing it. His hand slips back into her hair, cradling her head as he leans forward. His forehead rests against her own. It’s more a sort of embrace than a prelude to anything else, even with the sudden lack of distance between them.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
Didn’t think. Hadn’t asked. Had been so focused on himself and his own wounds, he hadn’t fully seen the damage he’d left strewn out behind him.
“… I’m sorry.”
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There is shock and warmth as she feels him close the gap between her. For a second she'd thought he might have been going for more than just resting their foreheads together, but everything he gave her felt like a touch she'd been starving for. Few wanted to be close to her, and she certainly didn't give off the vibe that she might actually want to be held or treated with care. She had always known Jesse to be like some whisperer when it came to her, able to calm her storms as well as he could start them.
Her hand slid from his neck to move around his shoulder and hold him against her. Maybe they looked ridiculous to any onlookers, but she was desperate for the closeness. Short of B.O.B., and a few people she'd briefly allowed into her bed, she didn't have a lot of contact. And B.O.B., no matter how much she loved him, did not provide the same human warmth, and she left the others without any post-coital cuddling.
"...Me too." She whispered. Her head felt heavy and she turned her head a bit. The moment was perfect in some ways, but she couldn't quite bridge the gap to kiss his mouth, too unsure of what he wanted. Instead she pressed her lips to his cheek, before laying her head against his shoulder and burying her face into his neck. She breathed him in and he smelled exactly as he once had and she just needed to be close. "I missed you..."
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He doesn’t have the words for it himself, but he’s been starving for this kind of touch just as much. The warmth from that kiss on his cheek fills his chest, not quite wiping out the previous aches and pains. But it makes it manageable. He leans his cheek against the top of her head and just holds her there.
This night had started out being about the people he’s lost. How strange and wonderful how it has become about people found.
“… Missed you too.”