Liminal Spaces - 141
((For this to make even a little bit of sense, please go read the wonderful brainchild of the talented @notspiders - I've linked the post at the bottom, you can't miss it! All credit goes to them ♥))
Part 1 - The Woods
There's only ever been one rule - You're supposed to stay up in the watchtower when he isn't with you (a rare occurrence as he seems to hate being away even for a moment) and you'd think there'd be some pull, some inclination to explore and see things for yourself... but not really? (Not anymore).
Sometimes there's a nagging, irritating feeling in the back of your head, it tells you to do silly things, dangerous things - like putting on your hiking boots, getting some essentials together... and running away.
But that's silly. (And you shiver when you think about going out into the woods on your own.)
It's cozy up in the watchtower, always the perfect temperature inside, always a drink fitting the weather set out waiting for you, a snack prepared in advance if you get peckish, a blanket or some fuzzy socks if it's chilly or a pair of sunglasses and a hat if the sunbeams are persistent.
Your biggest weakness however - several piles of books by the bed. You.. don't really remember how long you've been here, but you've read so many books one would think you should have managed to make a dent in the stacks by now - but no.
And it's not like you're complaining, not at all, every single book you've picked up thus far has scratched just the right itch for that day. (But it's weird, isn't it?)
And you couldn't have asked for a better companion, he doesn't crowd you when you want to be alone (though he's never far from sight). If you want to spend the day reading away, he'll simply take the four-wheeler (that only ever works for him) and go on a provision run, it's kinda funny how those trips are always on days when you have no desire to leave the watchtower (right?). Or he'll go hunting - disappearing in to the woods without gear or weapons of any kind and yet always bringing back game slung over his strong, broad back.
It's not that he refuses to take you with him (not at all, he loves your company!) it's just that when you go with him, the two of you always seem to get distracted and end up doing something completely different then what you set out to do. Like rock-climbing! Or he'll teach you how to throw axes, or tie a snare - always willing to please you, quick to laugh and even quicker with a joke.
Some days, instead of being boisterous and smiling, blue eyes glittering with mischief, he will go quiet, contemplative and go sit out by the railing and watch the horizon. - And you've found yourself thinking, on more than one occasion that it's as if he is actively trying not to look at you. His fingers wrapped around the old rusty metal, knuckles white and taut. You learned quickly that he was best left alone on days like that. (So things don't get out of hand).
He always keeps you safe though, even from yourself. Because as good as you have it here, sometimes you have bad days too and you get confused. You don't like yourself very much on those days, on those days you don't like your companion very much either, or at all in fact.
The important thing is - He keeps you safe and even if you sulk and pout afterwards (his words, not yours), if you refuse to get out of bed and spend days simply laying curled up under covers and blankets staring out over the vast (never ending) stretch of forest surrounding you... he always takes care of you.
You scream and shout and cry, accuse him of horrible things, of scary things.. and on really bad days he has to restrain you, take hold of your smacking hands and scratching nails and push you down in bed under his solid body. Holding you still while he coos and whispers sweet nothings in your ear (always with that warm highland tone) until you've calmed down, until you can breath again. When your head finally stops hurting, finally stops feeling like it's going to tear in two.
And you can't fault him if his touch lingers, if he's reluctant to let you go. To release your body from under his much bigger one. And him grinding up against your core, slotting your body perfectly against his.. that's just to keep you from hurting yourself (Even if it short circuits your brain). So what if his eyes go a little crazed and stares at inappropriate places on your body - anyone can get cabin fever!
He'll nail up an old bedsheet and set up the projector so you can watch movies together, or he'll pick up the book you've started on and read aloud - picking up right where you left off.
And soon enough the bad mood will pass, it will slip away and you're back to enjoying yourself in the quiet of the watchtower, feeling at peace once more.
More often than not he'll do voices for the characters, bring them to life with exaggerated accents and gesticulations, all to make you smile. Or he'll go completely off script and put on his own little show, just for your amusement, it never fails to leave you in stitches.
He'll tempt you and entice you with delicious smelling foods, stacks of pancakes with butter and maple syrup, rich flavourful stews that leave you both groaning and unbuttoning your pants. Or he'll pull a pint of your favourite ice-cream out of the icebox, when you could have sworn, you'd run out days ago (Gaz only knows where he got it from).
His big, steady arm wrapped around your shoulders, his nose pressed down at the top of your head, breathing you in, calming him down and stirring him up in equal measure. (Unbeknownst to you.)
You're right where you should be, where you belong.
With him.
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