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mignonricciardo · 8 months

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realizing I forgot to put my taglist here!!!! <3

TAGLIST:

@micksmidnights @d0ntjudgemy50shades @amsofftrack @writing-about-current-obsessions @a-distantdreamer @yearsof-war @hungryhungariann

If you want added to my taglist, feel free to shoot me a message or ask! thanks for reading! [some of these tags aren’t working so I removed them, if you want re-added please let me know!]

august | dr3

chapter 5

happy august 31 <3 to celebrate, here is a chapter of august, my daniel ricciardo friends to lovers back to friends back to lovers full of mutual pining fic. enjoy, read the other chapters and let me know how you're feeling <3

warnings: 18+, smut themes, not a mention of sex being protected (5k words)

Day 8 of 19

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the house since the news broke. Daniel shared the news with Michael, and while he was supportive of his friend and the situation, I could feel the tension in the air and the strain on their friendship as they both admitted defeat. It was painful to watch — sagging shoulders and tired eyes. Both men were sulking, but what could I do beyond my own sadness?

I throw myself into work, spending hours at the Greenhouse Cafe or down by the pool deck, finishing manuscripts and sending edits and brainstorming my own stories. It feels good to get back into the groove of my life before the trip — my life when Daniel isn’t around. It’s easier this way. To remember what reality is like, not whatever alternative universe exists at this house. Since our near kiss at the vineyard, I need every painful reminder of why it can’t happen. I let myself recall memories of too many run-ins over the years that have resulted in nothing but repressed longing and late night tears. Memories of France — the trip that finally broke whatever we were for years — surface in flashes that make my heart clench and stomach roll.

With memories of Daniel comes memories of Dad, and it feels like I’m back to where I was in the aftermath of his death. Thoughts spiraling into the what-ifs, images of what life could look like if he were still here. The thoughts consume me, sending me into a shaking mess as I tuck the manuscript away. My fingers click Elizabeth’s name, typing up the message with shaking hands.

Can I talk to you about something?

The text bubble is quick to appear, and I nearly feel guilty at her response.

Of course, Cal. Want to give me a call in a few? About to put the kids down for bed.

Tell them Aunt Cal says goodnight for me?

Felix says he misses you, and Amelia says goodnight, too. You alright?

Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you about something. Girl talk. Jack around?

At the pub with the boys to watch the game. No need to worry about him.

Thank god. Call me when you’re ready.

Minutes pass slowly as lights dim in the house. From the pool deck, the golden lights from Daniel’s bedroom cast shadows dancing across the rippling water. A sense of relief floods me when it goes dark while a second wave of guilt swells in me knowing there’s no way to make him feel better about any of this. The swell of the bugs from the brush culminates, ebbing away into silence as they perform their nightly routine. Waves crash beyond the edge of the property.

“Hey,” I answer the video call, smiling when Elizabeth’s face lights up the screen.

“Are you alright?” she says without hesitation, twisting the top of a bottle of red wine.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I look up to Daniel’s window one more time, waiting for light’s to flick back on. It remains dark against the gray-blue facade. “I just- I don’t know what’s going on, Lib.”

She pours a glass of red wine, settling on the large couch in the center of their living room, “Is it about Daniel?”

All I give is a weak nod.

“Oh, babe. Talk to me about it.”

I start to tell her about everything. The return to the house, the coffee, the movie night, the bar, the waking up together, the vineyard, the feeling of being caught in between Daniel and Michael. It flows from me like an undammed river, and the ever-present listener, Elizabeth lets me tell everything without interruption or interjection. The breeze ruffles the pages of the manuscript next to me on the chair, and I pull the blanket around my shoulders tighter without interrupting my story.

“We almost kissed, Lib,” I whisper, the shame crawling up my throat as she makes a face.

“Cal,” her voice warns.

“I know,” I answer. “After all that time and work, and it was like I was willing to forget everything. I’m angry at him and myself.”

“Have you talked about it?” she asks, sipping from the wine glass.

“The kiss? No, we’ve been pretty much avoiding each other since the vineyard. It’s been weird.” I groan as tears flood my eyes — angry drops slipping past my lashes. “I’m just so frustrated, Lib. Did I make a mistake saying yes to all of this?”

“I don’t know, Cal. I think only you can figure out that answer,” she answers gently. “In my opinion, no, I don’t think you’ve made a mistake. I think you need this trip to see him and catch up — remember what his friendship is like.”

Friendship. Is that what this was supposed to be? The word cuts me up and casts even more confusion.

“Lib, can I tell you something and you promise you won’t kill me or tell Jack?” my voice shakes.

The memories of France rest on the tip of my tongue. I glance back up to Daniel’s room, curtains drawn and room dark, and a part of me begs for him to hear me. An overwhelming heaviness settles in my stomach, but Elizabeth brings me back to reality.

“Usually I’d make a pregnancy joke here, but I don’t think now's the time,” she grins, and I chuckle weakly at her attempt to calm me down. I’m grateful for it. She continues, “I promise I won’t kill you or tell your brother. I can’t promise I won’t want to punch you, though.”

I let out a groan, fighting the anxiety in my stomach at the thought of revealing anything, “There’s a lot you don’t know — that no one knows except us.”

“You and Daniel?” her brows are raised as she takes another sip of wine.

I nod my head, “Remember in 2018 when I stayed with him after Monaco? It was not as friends.”

So I begin, telling Elizabeth about the trip that changed everything. There are moments along the way, like Italy or our final summers at this house, that are shared. Whether Elizabeth is shocked or not, I can’t tell. She keeps a stoic face, once again being the perfect listener without any interruptions. Frustrated tears continue to well in my eyes as my throat burns. Confusion swallows up everything, and when I finally finish with whatever my mouth decided to tell, Elizabeth looks at me with a sense of pity in her eyes.

“Babe, you’ve kept that all to yourself for all these years?” I nod, and she continues, “Why? It’s clear keeping all of that in was affecting you.”

“We agreed a long time ago to never talk about it,” I say, realizing I’m breaking my most sacred promise — a promise I had honored for over a decade. “It was just easier this way. It never felt real if we didn’t talk about it, so it meant we could go on like this.”

“Do you feel better now?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I answer after a moment of hesitation, brutal honesty in my words. “I guess speaking it out loud makes it real.”

“You aren’t going to want to hear this, but you need to talk to him about it, Cal,” she says. “I know that’s not what you’ve ever done, the two of you, but it has to be affecting him, too, right?”

“He doesn’t act like it,” I whisper, throat burning as tears continue to make their way down my cheeks. “It’s like he can just turn it on and off. I can’t do that, Lib. I care too much.”

The admission nearly stops me in my tracks. I care too much. Is this as close as I’d ever get to admitting it?

“Does he know how much this hurts you, Cal?” she asks.

I shake my head, “There’s no way he could. We don’t talk about it.”

“You need to,” she says, voice gentle. “Even if its just to yell at him for everything, then you can decide not to speak about it again. Either way, you need to talk to him. He’s the only other person who will get it, Cal.”

“Aunt Callie?” a small voice calls over the phone.

Elizabeth’s head spins around, and she smiles as one of her kids approaches. She asks if they want to talk, and Felix’s quiet voice says yes. There’s a shuffling as he climbs into his mother’s lap, and I can’t help the wide smile as his face fills the screen.

“Hey, buddy,” I say.

“Why are you sad?” he says, eyes heavy with sleep. “You’re crying, Aunt Callie.”

“It’s been a long day, buddy,” I say, fighting back more tears at his quiet voice being so caring. “It’s better now that I’m talking to you.”

“I see you soon?” he asks, looking at Elizabeth and then back to the screen.

I nod, “Very soon, Felix. I’m excited to see you. I miss you.”

He yawns, “Miss you, too. Uncle Daniel there?”

I nod my head, “He’s asleep right now, Felix. Like you should be.”

He rubs his eyes with tiny fists, “Woke up and heard Mummy say your name. Wanted to see Aunt Callie.”

The blond curls nearly reach his eyebrows, a reminder of how quickly he’s growing, and my heart swells, “Did you check on Amelia before you came down?”

“She was sleeping,” he nods gently, yawning again. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Mummy and Aunt Callie were talking,” Elizabeth says quietly to him, brushing his curls back from his forehead in a motherly fashion. “We were talking about when we’re going to see each other.”

“And Uncle Daniel, too?” he says, eyes fluttering shut. “We see everyone?”

Elizabeth nods, and I smile as his eyes remain shut, “Felix?”

He hums quietly, and I take the time to answer before he falls back asleep, “I love you. Thank you for checking on me.”

“Love you, Aunt Callie,” he murmurs. “Mummy, go back to bed?”

“Alright, come on,” she smiles gently, grunting as she lifts his tired frame against her hip.

“I’ll let you go,” I say over the phone. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Cal,” she says, smiling as Felix echoes her statement.

After the call hangs up, I lean back into the chair, sighing as the conversation weighs heavy on my mind. I wipe the remaining tears off my cheeks, letting my eyes stay shut as the chilled ocean breeze washes over me. It’d be a week before they’d arrive. I let myself relax into the poolside chair, falling into a sense of calm with the distant crashing waves. Half an hour passes as the shore falls into an ebbing sense of quiet, culminating with the symphony of the tide.

“You coming in soon?”

His voice is gentle so as not to startle me, but my eyes fly open to see Daniel towering over me. He looks like he had been trying to sleep, sweatpants and ruffled hair with a hastily thrown on sweatshirt. There are dark circles beneath his eyes despite the soft, ever-present smile on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to make you jump, but I thought I would check. I saw the lights still on out here.”

“Yeah, I was just trying to get some work done,” I motion to the long forgotten manuscript on the chair next to me.

“And work was making you cry?” he says quietly. I look to him with shock, but he motions to my eyes, “I’ve known you forever, Cal. I know what you look like after you’ve cried. What’s up?”

I shake my head, “Sorry if I kept you up. Go to bed, Daniel.”

My tone is sharper than I anticipate, but it doesn’t faze him as he moves the manuscript to the side so he can sit in the chair next to me. Long legs spread before him, and he sighs as he gets comfortable, adjusting his sweatshirt around his shoulders. He lets a silence linger before speaking.

“I couldn’t sleep. I have a lot on my mind, so I was going to come out here to read for a bit — get some fresh air — but then I saw you.”

He turns over the book in his hand, cracked spine indicating it was a loved book from the shelf in the living room. I watch as his fingers slide along the spine before he sets it next to the manuscript.

“Well, I’ll go in so you don’t have to be bothered,” I start, lifting myself from the chair.

His fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks, “That’s not what I meant, Apples.”

Damn that nickname. Our eyes meet, and something in his gaze makes tears tug at my lashes. Warm, brown depths suck me in, and they leave me defenseless. I shake his arm off mine, sucking in a deep breath to regain some sense of control. I stand from the chair, shaking my hands limply at my sides as I pace across the pool deck. I glance up to the house where Michael’s window is dark, taking a steadying breath before turning to Daniel.

“Was it a bad idea for me to come here?” I ask.

The look in his eyes makes me almost regret the words falling from my mouth. He sits up, his elbows on his knees, and his brows draw together.

“What do you mean, Cal?” he looks genuinely confused — no sense of facade to his expression.

“Daniel,” my voice shakes, teetering on the edge of silence. “After everything, was it a bad idea to jump into this?”

“Callie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His calm and gentle tone sends my blood boiling, and the tears start to fall down my cheeks out of frustration. Without another thought, my voice raises as I screech at him, “Bullshit you don’t know!”

My tone startles him, but when he sees my tears, he reaches for me, “Cal, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t touch me,” I fight him off weakly, shrugging off his looming embrace. “I’m angry right now, and I don’t need you to comfort me. I need you to stop pretending.”

I feel guilty. He looks tired, and with everything else going on, he doesn’t need my demands to pile on top of him, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending. He sighs as he settles on the pool chair, head hanging with his elbows on his knees. I watch his every move, body wound so tightly that I could flinch with the simplest of his movements, and my eyes burn with years of frustration bubbling up.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he sighs, avoiding my gaze.

He looks tired, shoulders sagging, but I feel just as exhausted.

“Tell me it was all real,” I say. “Tell me I’m not crazy and all these things I remember actually happened.”

“What things?” he asks, and it sends something snapping in me.

“You know what!” I screech, voice foreign to my own ears as my frustration oozes. “I’m so fucking sick of this game, Daniel.”

He just looks at me, something swirling in his eyes as his lips part ever so slightly. Please, I want to beg. Just say it. Instead, we square off in silence. He stammers out my name, and I snatch the manuscript off the chair beside him, sure to avoid brushing his leg.

“I shouldn’t have come,” I say, spinning away from him. “I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

Suddenly, his fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me back toward him. I spin to face him in the process, and something familiar about the close stance floods my senses. I don’t know what compels Daniel to grab my face, but before I know it, his lips are crashing into mine as his hands cradle my jaw. My hands subconsciously find their way into his dark curls, weaving into the strands in a familiar dance. Before I’m processing what I’m doing, one of my hands slides from the back of his neck to rest on his jaw, and my lips part to welcome his familiar caress. He takes a step, and my leg follows backward until it hits the pool chair. The contact sends me spiraling back toward reality, and I break away from him as my chest heaves. We’re staring at each other, chests mimicking the other’s rapid rise and fall, and I barely trust my voice.

“Daniel, we have to talk about everything.”

“There will be time for that,” he is breathless as his chest rises and falls with what he’s saying. “I owe it to you — I do — but right now, please just-”

“What, Daniel?” I start. “Please what? Pretend I want to do this again and forget what happened every time before? When you can’t even admit any of it? Please what?”

He hesitates, warm eyes following the curves of my face, “Just let me kiss you.”

The longing in his voice makes my heart splinter yet every part of my being screams no. One of his hands slides down my arm, tracing across the bones in the back of my hand before weaving our fingers together. My eyes look down to our clasped hands before casting back up to meet his eyes. As much as it pains me, I shake my head slowly.

“You don’t really want this, Dan,” my throat burns. “You’re hurt. This is what we do when we’re hurting. It’s always what we’ve done.”

“I do want this, Cal,” he whispers, eyes pleading with me. His fingers slide against mine, “I should’ve kissed you at the vineyard. I should’ve kissed you at that bar when I came to get you. I should’ve kissed you before you ever left to meet that dickhe-”

Despite every part of my brain screaming at me, I act in defiance as one of my hands hooks beneath his jaw, his beard rough beneath my fingers, and I press our lips together again. He reacts immediately, hand dropping away from mine and rising to slide along my jaw. The familiarity of his lips against my mine — tongues recalling a familiar dance — sends heat firing down my limbs. He inhales sharply through his nose, hands drifting toward my waist where cold fingers slide beneath my sweatshirt.

“Daniel, I’m sorry,” I breathe, fingers weaving through the curls at the back of his head. “This can’t go too far.”

“Fuck, I know,” he groans quietly, fingers brushing across my skin concealed by the fleece sweatshirt. “I’m sorry. I’ve just missed you.”

The words hit me square in the chest, and warmth bubbles up and brings my voice to a squeak as his lips press gently to my jaw and neck. My head spins, full of the smell of his cologne and feeling of his lips against my skin, and it tips to the side to allow him access. One of my hands slides across his shoulder, gripping his bicep as his nose brushes against my neck.

“I need to know we’ll talk,” I choke out, legs buckling as his knee slides between mine. “We need to talk about everything.”

“I owe it to you,” he whispers against my skin. All of my defenses crumble beneath his touch.

“I missed you, too,” I whisper, gasping sharply as his cold hands press against my skin beneath the sweatshirt. “It hurt to think about it.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, lips still tracing old, familiar lines down my neck. “I’ve always been sorry.”

The chill of the breeze ushers in clouds beneath the cover of darkness, and the stretching black cracks open as gentle rain begins to fall. We’ve barely processed the cold drops falling on our faces, digging through the haze of whatever was happening between us, before the sky opens up and unleashes heavy rain. Our sweatshirts become soaked with rain, hair sticking to foreheads as we look at the other in a daze as our brains scramble to catch up. Chests are heaving and eyelids heavy, and we simply stare at one another as the rain ripples across the pool surface. I see the manuscript flutter behind Daniel, and I curse as I lunge for it, grabbing the soaked papers and pulling my rumpled sweatshirt over them in a futile attempt to save them. I spin around to a laughing Daniel — a true laugh that makes him look like he's 25 again. He doesn’t look so heavy, and his shoulders lift higher than they had since arriving at the house. He continues to laugh as he grabs my hand, pulling me through the pouring rain and across the soaked pool deck toward the house. We stumble into the house, leaving water droplets in our wake, and he continues his laughter, quieter now as Michael sleeps upstairs. He drops the wet book to the countertop, pages already swelling, and he reaches to peel his sweatshirt off.

“Daniel, what is so fun-”

I stumble to a halt, words failing, and my eyes watch as his bare torso is revealed. Biceps flex as he tugs the sweatshirt over his head, and he reaches a hand out to indicate he’s waiting for mine. I’m aware that I’m staring, eyes tracing new tattoos spreading across his skin, but I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m frozen — trying to recognize something that used to be so familiar.

“I’m gonna put our stuff in the dryer,” he smiles softly. “Cal, you’re freezing. You need to get that stuff off.”

I nod, dazed as my eyes are stuck on the tattoos on his collarbones and spreading down his arm. My fingers tug at my sweatshirt, peeling the heavy fabric away from me, and something about his eyes on me spurs my confidence as I peel the cotton t-shirt away from my skin, too. I don’t hesitate to lose the t-shirt, a sense of comfort in Daniel’s presence, and I can feel the burn of his eyes on me as I tug the shirt over my head to hand to him. Goosebumps prickle across my skin as I stand before him, bra and sweatpants damp from the rain, and his eyes shamelessly stare at me.

“You got more tattoos,” I whisper, unable to take the silence as his eyes watch me. “I didn’t know about them.”

He nods, still holding our sweatshirts and my shirt in his hands, “Picked up a couple since you’ve seen me like this.”

I don’t know what to say, so I remain quiet as I follow him into the laundry room. My eyes drink him in, tan skin stretched across taut muscle and adorned with black ink. His dark curls are wild from the rain. He tosses the soaking items into the washer, adding a full step to the promised routine, and his fingers clutch the elastic waistband of his pants before he tugs them down his legs. I can’t help the sharp inhale that passes through my lips as his sprawling thigh tattoo is revealed beneath sleek boxers, and he faces me seemingly unfazed despite hearing my gasp.

“Do you want me to step out while you throw yours in?” he asks.

My brain screams at me, but in an attempt to play it cool as my mind scrambles to catch up with everything, I shake my head. I peel the sweatpants off my legs, hyper aware I’m standing before Daniel in next to nothing, and pass them to him to toss into the washer. The water starts filling the basin with a gentle hiss.

“I thought we were just drying them?” my voice is unsteady as I take ragged breaths.

He turns to me and I’m suddenly aware of how small the laundry room is with the minimal distance between us. My back is pressed against the edge of the wooden table, and our chests nearly brush with the deep breaths I’m heaving.

“Figured I’d wash them while we’re at it,” he whispers, voice raspy as our eyes meet. “I have to kill some time before I throw them into the wash.”

I nod my head, humming since I don’t trust my voice. His fingers reach toward my face gently, warm digits brushing hair sticking to my forehead behind my ear. I take a steadying breath, stuck in whatever trance is surrounding us, and my fingers brush along the tattooed words on his collarbone.

“Tell me about them,” I whisper, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch.

He tells me about some of his new tattoos, voice quiet and raspy as whatever space was left between us slowly closes. My fingers brush across his chest, tracing the ink from his shoulder to his bicep to his forearm as he talks about each new tattoo since I had seen him like this. He takes his time, sharing each story with detail and letting me trace the delicate lines. He tosses the small load of laundry into the dryer when it chimes, briefly breaking our trance before returning to stand in the closing space between us.

“The new one on your thigh,” I whisper, hand slowly reaching for the ink above his knee. The anchor is settled within his sprawling thigh tattoos, hidden unless you were already familiar with them. I notice the sharp inhale he takes as my finger brushes across his skin, “The anchor.”

He nods, throat bobbing as his eyes flutter shut, “It was for you. You’re always reminding me to stay grounded — it’s a reminder of home.”

Tears suddenly flood my eyes as I gasp, and my gaze tears from the ink on his thigh to his face where warm brown eyes meet mine.

“You got this for me?” I whisper, voice low and breath fanning across his skin.

He nods, eyes hood and a honeyed lilt to his voice, “Callie.”

My fingers stop tracing his skin, and my eyes search his for whatever he’s about to say. His hands twitch at his sides, “Did he touch you like I did?”

The first mention of my ex since I had told Daniel we had broken up. It catches me entirely off guard.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb on me, Cal,” he starts, voice strong and eyes dark. “Like in France. Did he touch you like that?”

“Daniel,” my voice trails off, brain forgetting how to do anything besides think of him — besides giving me flashbacks of his hands on my skin and his kiss from earlier.

“Did he touch you like how I touched you? I have a feeling he didn’t even come close.”

Our chests are heaving between us, and no matter how much my brain screams at me for what I’m about to do, I’m powerless to fight it.

“I need you to remind me how you touched me.”

That’s enough. Clashing lips and tongues as he lifts me onto the table behind me. The dryer drones away behind us, masking whatever noise is drifting from the laundry room toward the living room and kitchen. Daniel’s hands on my body, palms warm and rough as they slide across my skin, are familiar and warm me from the inside out. His hands press the softest parts of me into the hardest parts of him, and my thighs knock open and wrap loosely around his hips. The dance is familiar, our bodies remembering everything before our brains have time to find excuses as to which this should stop. His hand curls against my spine, pressing me into him and sending lightning through my body, and I gasp as his lips trace over the skin sensitive from his earlier ministrations.

“We need to talk about this, Daniel,” I gasp, bra dropping to baskets full of laundry. “Fuck, we need to talk about this.”

His lips part against my skin, mumbling into my shoulder, “Fuck, I know.”

“Promise me I won’t regret this,” I whisper, fingers curling into his hair and tugging gently along his scalp. “If you can promise me that, we can talk later.”

“You won’t regret this,” he answers without missing a beat. “Callie, its you and me. You know how this is going to go. Do we ever regret it?”

In my heart, I know the answer, but the lust clouds my brain, and before I know it, I’ve got thighs wrapped around him. Any clothing has been abandoned into the baskets around us, and Daniel presses forward as our foreheads rest against each other. The steady hum of the dryer matches Daniel’s steady pulse beneath my fingers, and for the first time, I remove any expectations out of the situation. I simply let myself feel, finding freedom in getting lost in Daniel’s touch. The feel and scent of him, arms caging around my body as he lifts me ever so slightly from the table. It hits me all at once — voice hoarse as my eyes shut — and Daniel isn’t far behind, stilling within me as our chests heave. Any chill from the rain has vanished, and once we catch our breath, the dryer chimes quietly. Daniel pulls from me gently, whispering a gentle I know as I whine helplessly. Before I know it, he’s pulling his sweatshirt over my head, smelling of laundry detergent and faintly of him still, and I watch through hooded lids as he tugs the sweatpants up his legs.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers quietly, hands brushing hair from my face.

“Tired, spent, incredible,” I answer.

He chuckles quietly, “Let me take you to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow, Cal.”

He lifts me from the table, setting me down on uneasy legs, and nudges me forward gently. I barely trust my legs as I make my way up the stairs, but Daniel follows behind with large palms resting on my hips. He follows me toward my room, watching as I crawl into bed, and he pulls the blanket over my bare legs. As he goes to leave, I reach for his hand, catching his fingers with mine.

“Will you stay?” I ask quietly, embarrassed at the ask falling from my lips.

He thinks it over for a moment, unreadable look in his eyes, and the guilt burns deep in my stomach. He nods gently, hand squeezing mine before he crawls in next to me, sighing as he gets comfortable on the mattress. I hesitate to curl into his side, afraid of feeling clingy after everything that had just happened, but he rolls onto his side to face me. Our eyes meet, and for the first time this trip, the heaviness weighing around the corners is gone. He smiles as we lay there, grinning as we lay in silence.

“How do we make sure Michael doesn’t find out about this?” I whisper.

“I’ll leave in the morning before he’s up,” Daniel whispers. “Don’t worry about it, Cal.”

I nod my head, but he doesn’t buy it. He pulls me closer to him, arms wrapping around me as I press into his chest. His steady breaths lull me into a near-sleep, eyes lidded and limbs heavy.

“Cal?” he asks quietly, chest vibrating against my cheek. I hum quietly, an acknowledgement I’ve heard him. He continues quietly, words making my heart swell and warmth spread to my limbs, sending me drifting off, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

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