[There. It's a little easier to breathe with their fingers curled absently together. (No need to examine how little contact it takes from her to calm his heartbeat. No need to remember that Archie is the one who first started him down this path of comfort from light physical contact.)
Slow breath in; slow breath out.]
Mr. Kennedy hasn't returned with us.
[A little better stepping back into surnames--but a little more like the way a death was always shared.
[ lara isn't going to, can't examine the fact that holding her hand seems to bring him some measure of relief too closely, or the way something inside her chest clenches at that realisation.
so instead, she focuses on his words. she puts far less emphasis on lsat names, on propriety, so it takes her a moment. ] Archie?
[Lots of their crewmates would generally understand, of course; Archie was one of those lovely people who made friends easily. Still, a piece of Horatio expects that Lara will understand this particular prickling pain in his gut.]
[ i'm sorry, lara thinks, and there's some measure of regret because she liked archie, he'd been lovely and fun and she hadn't been nearly as close to him as horatio had been.
but she knows, too, that those words only bothered her after her father's (alleged) death, the first one, and so she stays silent, just squeezes his hand. ]
[The quiet helps. The squeeze of her fingers around his own helps. The sensation that she's here, breathing, warm, close enough that he can just faintly feel her heartbeat through their joined hands helps.
Movement comes slowly. It's a delicate process, after all, shifting closer to another human being, trying not to upset the careful balance.
It's just that it would help so much more to curl around her properly for a little while.]
[ he shifts steadily closer, moving in increments, and lara doesn't notice it at first, then pretends not to notice it, then thinks fuck it and pulls him in, one arm wrapping around his shoulders.
it's just friendly comfort, nothing more. that's it, she can do it if it's for him, if there's a reason. ]
[Friendly comfort is, in and of itself, a new and delicate (dangerous?) thing. It's awkward in his limbs for a few seconds, confused and disoriented, before Horatio exhales his way into simply curling in against the space she's made for him.
Better, having arms around her waist. Better, pressing his face in against her neck and shoulder. Better, feeling her breathe while he sorts through the hurt of this particular loss.
If she lets him, he'll absolutely stay like this until morning. (Horrifying, in its own way, to think about just drifting off here without the excuse of their ongoing indiscretion; but better.)]
[ under other circumstances, the thought of him staying like this until morning, nothing but proximity between them without even the excuse of sex, would make something like cold panic clench in lara's chest. under other circumstances, she'd either kiss him or find a reason to kick him out.
but he needs this. it's helping. somehow, his hurt distracts from the possibility of future pain and it's enough. the desire to be there for him wins out. ]
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Slow breath in; slow breath out.]
Mr. Kennedy hasn't returned with us.
[A little better stepping back into surnames--but a little more like the way a death was always shared.
There's just no avoiding the hurt of it.]
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so instead, she focuses on his words. she puts far less emphasis on lsat names, on propriety, so it takes her a moment. ] Archie?
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[Lots of their crewmates would generally understand, of course; Archie was one of those lovely people who made friends easily. Still, a piece of Horatio expects that Lara will understand this particular prickling pain in his gut.]
Just... gone.
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but she knows, too, that those words only bothered her after her father's (alleged) death, the first one, and so she stays silent, just squeezes his hand. ]
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Movement comes slowly. It's a delicate process, after all, shifting closer to another human being, trying not to upset the careful balance.
It's just that it would help so much more to curl around her properly for a little while.]
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it's just friendly comfort, nothing more. that's it, she can do it if it's for him, if there's a reason. ]
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Better, having arms around her waist. Better, pressing his face in against her neck and shoulder. Better, feeling her breathe while he sorts through the hurt of this particular loss.
If she lets him, he'll absolutely stay like this until morning. (Horrifying, in its own way, to think about just drifting off here without the excuse of their ongoing indiscretion; but better.)]
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but he needs this. it's helping. somehow, his hurt distracts from the possibility of future pain and it's enough. the desire to be there for him wins out. ]