It seems like it takes them forever to get from the roof to his bedroom door, even with his hands all over her, even pinned against the elevator wall and she's not even remotely surprised by her own impatience. She's been waiting for this since Halloween, even more since the day she caught him on the chair, and her heart is beating quicker in her chest as he pauses in front of his bedroom door. It's like being up on the roof all over again, she has no idea what to say, because he's done so much work and it's for her. All of it. He doesn't get anything out of it except her reactions -- and, okay, he'll get laid, but that was happening regardless -- and she's not used to anyone doing anything for selfless reasons. Certainly not anything for her.
But she's not quite as stunned as she was up on the roof and when she turns to him, pausing to set the champagne bottle down on a nearby tabletop, her mouth is pulled into a smile. "Good thing the roof went so well or this might've been awkward," she teases, her arms sliding around his shoulders. If he ever disappears or if they ever break up, she's pretty sure that's it. No one's ever going to be able to come close to him and she's pretty okay with that, because she might not have control over the disappearances, but she's completely sold on not breaking up. "Everything is special," she promises before kissing him again as she takes a step backwards into the bedroom, tugging him with her.
It would be special, she thinks, without the flowers and the champagne, without the rose petals, without any of it. All of that is amazing and she still can't quite get over that he's done these things for her, but if they'd been sitting on the couch watching TV and he'd turned to her and told her he loved her, that would have been enough, too. That would have made it special. She's only partly aware of kicking off her shoes, lost in kissing him and in the warmth of his skin under her hands when she slips them down to the hem of his shirt and pushes them under, fingers spread over his lower back.
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But she's not quite as stunned as she was up on the roof and when she turns to him, pausing to set the champagne bottle down on a nearby tabletop, her mouth is pulled into a smile. "Good thing the roof went so well or this might've been awkward," she teases, her arms sliding around his shoulders. If he ever disappears or if they ever break up, she's pretty sure that's it. No one's ever going to be able to come close to him and she's pretty okay with that, because she might not have control over the disappearances, but she's completely sold on not breaking up. "Everything is special," she promises before kissing him again as she takes a step backwards into the bedroom, tugging him with her.
It would be special, she thinks, without the flowers and the champagne, without the rose petals, without any of it. All of that is amazing and she still can't quite get over that he's done these things for her, but if they'd been sitting on the couch watching TV and he'd turned to her and told her he loved her, that would have been enough, too. That would have made it special. She's only partly aware of kicking off her shoes, lost in kissing him and in the warmth of his skin under her hands when she slips them down to the hem of his shirt and pushes them under, fingers spread over his lower back.