missingthekeep | Valentine's Day [for Meredith]

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Valentine's Day [for Meredith]

Two weeks. Two bloody weeks since that damned station fell out of the sky, he and Meredith on it, two weeks since their not-so-grand getaway, two weeks since Sean's been able to voice a simple thought. And it's been miserable, there's no denying it, worse even than the last time he found himself unable to speak, when things had been good and it had just been a whim of the island doing it instead of his own stupid mistakes, but he's trying. For Meredith, and maybe more importantly, for himself, he's trying. He gets up, he fills his days, he makes it from sunup to sundown, and then he does it all over again, because the alternative is giving up, and he can finally see that that's exactly what he'd been doing for months. It hadn't helped.

So he's trying. He still spends most of his time alone or with Meredith because it's simpler, he sneaks the odd drink when he can, but overall, he's being good. He's being good and he's trying because he has to have faith that this will get better. Faith in her, faith in himself, faith in what's left of the life he built for himself here, any of the above, all of the above, it doesn't matter. He can do this.

It's a seemingly unbearable situation, but he bears it anyway, because that's just what he does. He bears it and he keeps the faith that things will improve again. And if they don't, if something else breaks, then he'll weather that, too. Today, bearing it means not ignoring what day it is, no matter how silly a day it may be.

Waking early, he tears half a sheet of paper from the notepad on the nightstand that he's been relying on and scrawls a quick message, adding a small, lopsided heart for good measure before folding it in half and resting it gingerly on Meredith's chest.

Morning, beautiful.

Who says he needs to be able to speak to be cheesy?

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Nuzzling against him, Meredith smiles, shifting to lean her face against his neck. It's a start — not a guarantee his voice will ever be what it was before or that it won't be a long time before it's back to normal, but it's a big deal, just hearing him again. She huffs out a laugh born of relief and kisses his shoulder. While she wants to caution him not to overdo it, she can't bring herself to issue warnings against something that makes her so ridiculously pleased.

It's her reaction more than anything that makes Sean feels inordinately pleased with himself, and it's such a rare feeling for him that he can't help but want to hang onto it for as long as he can. Still, he resists the urge to say more just to garner more attention, knowing that pushing things is only going to get her on his case for it. He glances up and to the side to try and spot the notepad, but he's not about to dislodge her to reach for it, so he just kisses her hair and twines a few strands around his fingers as he repeats it's a start over and over to himself like a mantra.

Turning her head toward his hand, Meredith closes her eyes, startlingly content. It's not like she wishes it could always be like this — eventually even being blissfully happy in bed with him would have to get boring if it were a constant — but she still hopes things stay this way, victories registering with as much weight as losses for a change. Pressing kisses to his jaw, she runs the backs of her fingers over his cheek as she finds his mouth again, slow and soft.

It's hard not to push for more, but Sean likes this pace too much, appreciates the easy intimacy of it enough to keep the sense of urgency she always inspires in him at bay. He eyes slide shut as he kisses her back, along for the ride and loving every second of it, wrapping a leg around hers under the covers. For once, he's actually able to take it for granted that things can be this good, and not being surprised about that fact somehow manages to make it that much sweeter.

Meredith shifts closer, weight on one arm as she leans into the kiss. As much as she loves everything else, there's something to be said for this, too, the simple feel of his skin against hers, his mouth on her mouth, his tongue against hers, everything slow and easy. There's no rush, no hurry, nothing to think about or even escape from. She almost asks how they got this lucky; in light of everything else, it seems absurd. Instead she rolls onto her side, pulling him with her.

Sean makes a soft, startled noise in the back of his throat at that, and it's almost a relief that it hurts more than the tug at his side as he eagerly moves with her. It's certainly easier to put out of his mind, anyway, and he doesn't break the kiss for anything beyond pulling in the odd breath of air.

Meredith laughs and keeps kissing him, a hand traveling carefully down his side to his back. When she finally pulls away, it's just enough to rest her forehead against his, content just to lie still for a moment. There are times when she's worried all the time they've had only means it'll run out soon, but today it just seems right. Why shouldn't they get a second Valentine's when they've put up with so much, nearly had Christmas ruined? Why shouldn't things go their way, just for a little while?

Sean finds himself torn between the urge to fill the silence (since that's one thing he's long since grown tired of appreciating) and not wanting to interrupt the quiet electricity of the moment. Eyes closed, he runs his hand slowly along her arm and just mouths her name, lets the word ring through his head over and over, keeping the silence at bay without actually breaking it.

It's perfect.

In the quiet, she can almost hear it in the way he exhales. Having those three be the last words he said to her now, being able to replace that other, darker memory with something like this, is gratifying and, nudging closer, Meredith kisses him, sucking at his lip. She strokes her hand down over his leg, fingers brushing up again over his hip bone.

His momentary neuroses beaten for now, Sean gives himself over to her completely, letting her take the lead as he sighs against her mouth, his body straining into her touch. As he does, he keeps running his hand, feather-light, along her arm, his fingertips still itching for every point of contact he can make with her skin, however fleeting.

Dipping briefly lower, Meredith's fingers move higher instead, skating over his side, careful to avoid those places he's still injured. If she can help it, she won't be the cause of more hurt, not when this much is already on her, whatever he's said to the contrary. She pulls slowly away to kiss his shoulder instead, propping herself up to turn her head, trace the line of his collarbone with her tongue.

Sighing again, Sean tips his head back, eyes shut tighter now at the sweep of her tongue. It's strange, how being unable to speak properly makes him want to do it that much more, even when that's the sort of thing he's always been perfectly content to leave out of the bedroom. He's no talker, but right now, he feels like he could be, a thousand different things that he wants to say to her flitting through his thoughts, stuck there. It's aggravating, to be sure, but God, she makes it difficult to care.

Though Meredith had every intention of continuing on down, the way he bends his head back, exposes his throat, draws her back up again to suck at his skin, careful in a not altogether conscious way. She isn't much thinking about whether or not it's a good idea, only about how she wants to take advantage of the moment, taste him, drawing her teeth lightly down the line of his neck. This is one time the silence doesn't bother her, accustomed as she is to his being quieter in bed than she is, to hearing on his breath and her own soft sigh.

Biting his lip on a moan that would only be more trouble than it's worth, Sean shifts only enough to give her as much access as possible. He feels odd, though, self-conscious and exposed in a way he hasn't felt in a very long time at the attentive scrape of her teeth on his throat. He knows that it's likely just a lingering oversensitivity from being caught unawares back on the station, but his heart starts to race a little, anyway, at odds with the lazy pace they're moving at. At least there's no denying how good it feels, and his fingers curl gently against the nape of her neck, goading her on.

Meredith closes her eyes, a sound like a hum in her throat at that slight touch. Making her way up to his ear, drawing it lightly between her teeth, she stretches against him. It's so easy to get lost in this, moving in a kind of haze, drifting somewhere between a sense of security and renewed arousal. One hand seeking out his free one, the other skates along his side again. At times like these, she's stopped thinking if she'll get a lifetime of this; for the most part now, she assumes it, and somehow that just makes it better.

Sean's known for a long damn time that he's going to spend the rest of his life loving this woman, but there are still things about that which manage to surprise him. Right now, the big one is that even after everything they've gone through, all the pain and misery, she can still make him feel so good, can put him on top of the bloody world, higher than ever. Threading his fingers through hers, he presses wantonly against her, opening his eyes to dazedly regard their linked hands. Even if this perfection is only fleeting, who cares? She can always do it again.

"Sean," Meredith breathes out, turning her head to kiss him again, harder now, curving toward him. It's a while before she bothers to break away the way she intended to, so she can go back to trailing kisses down his chest. The difficulty with taking things slow is she's never been that good at it, too impatient, too desperate, as much as she enjoys it. There's something to be said for it, though, that measure of anticipation, her hand gripping his hip.

He may not be able to reply, but she's all that's on Sean's mind as he ducks his head to brush a kiss across her brow before laying his head back down with a drawn-out exhalation. Does he really need to say as much? His muscles go taut with that simmering anticipation and he wills himself to relax as best he can, desire and arousal trying valiantly but failing to upset the sense of peace he's got going.

Turning her head to press a kiss to his arm, Meredith slips further under the sheets, glancing up at him with a quiet laugh as she does so. It seems an almost childish thing to do, getting under the covers backwards like this, entirely at odds with her purpose, and she ducks her head again to nip at his hip, tongue sliding over the spot right after, smiling to herself.

It always feels like the hardest thing in the world not to echo her laugh, but Sean is all about persevering in the face of adversity, and one side of his mouth just hitches upward in a lopsided grin as he watches her slip under the covers, teeth showing and all. The feel of her tongue smoothing over those playful little bites to sensitive skin never fails to give him shivers, though, and he squeezes her hand, his smirk wavering a little as his eyes slide shut.

Kissing the inside of his thigh, Meredith runs her free hand over his leg, slowly but steadily moving higher. Between the way he holds her hand and the feel of his muscles taut where she's touching him, there's something about knowing he's already waiting for her to do something and then not doing it, not yet, at least. It's her turn to draw this out, take her time with him. She turns her head, close enough for him to feel her breath, for her to feel the heat of him, and, tracing idle circles on his skin, waits.

She's evil. She's sadistic, she's the devil incarnate, and saints, does Sean love her for it. His breath gets stuck in his throat as his whole world narrows down to the wait, the singular anticipation of what's to come, and he can't even say anything to express the urgency he feels (as if she doesn't know). All he can offer is a desperate, encouraging squeeze of her shoulder as he focuses on not squirming too much under her touch.

Meredith's shoulder rolls up into that touch as she sighs, admittedly smug knowing what she's doing to him. She holds out just a little longer, then leans in to drag her tongue slowly, slowly along the length of him. If she's going to take her time, this is what makes it worth it, feeling that tension, the desperation she needs no help catching. It sends a shiver through her as she licks him again.

Briefly, Sean wonders if it would be cheating to just throw the covers off so he can see her, but then, yes, that's her tongue, and any other concerns require far too much thought to be worth bothering with. Forcing himself into stillness and twisting his insides into knots in the process, he presses his head back into the pillow, silently begging her for more and knowing that he'll get it if only he can just manage to wait for it.

It's warm down here under the sheets, but Meredith doesn't care, eyes closed, focus on him. Free hand resting on his thigh, she wraps her lips around him, just the head, tongue swirling over his skin. She can feel it in her gut, this slow burn of wanting him, the way her heart leaps into her throat with it, until she thinks she might start squirming before he does.

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