missingthekeep | 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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Sean lets her maneuver him however she likes, his body gone limp and pliable as he rests his head against hers, pulling in slow, panting breaths as his heart continues to race. His side is bothering him a little after that last spasm, but not enough to get him to do anything drastic like move beyond wrapping his arm more securely around her. Eyes still closed, he finds himself trying to speak, but without enough focus to spare on the task, his throat won't cooperate and he has to give up.

With him holding onto her, Meredith lets go of his hand, fingers combing through his hair. She doesn't feel any need to speak, just to press close to him, eyes shut, feeling the way his chest lifts and falls against hers. Words can wait, words can be saved for later. This is how she likes it, safe and easy, what movements she makes languid, barely a conscious decision. It's one of the few things she's been able to rely on, the way he makes her feel.

She's so warm against him, and Sean wraps a leg around hers just to get as much contact as he can as he stretches out beneath her, unbelievably content. He'd be a fool not to see how hard things have been for them, but even with all the ways that their life is far from perfect (hell, he can't even talk), it still manages to feel like it is in the moments like this. And what is perfection if not just a feeling? Maybe this is all they need. It's with this thought in mind that he brushes the backs of his fingers delicately over her cheek and leans in for a lazy kiss.

Perfection.

Meredith sighs, kissing him deeper, hips pressing closer. Right here with the way they line up, tangled together, there's something so right about it, more than anywhere else she could be. How she found that here on this island or at this point in their lives, she doesn't know, but all she's really aware of now is him anyway, his body and the notion she could be happy just staying here in bed the whole day if she had her way, doing nothing but lying here with him.

Spurred by the sudden urge once all the feeling comes back to his limbs, Sean rolls, not moving a single inch of himself away from her as he switches their positions. Unfortunately, this causes that tug at his side to veer just that little way from discomfort to pain, and he winces, covering it up by kissing her that much harder as he tries to settle in again. With his voice still causing him untold grief, he's not about to let this slow him down, as well.

It's distraction enough that Meredith doesn't yet notice, breath growing shallow and a whimper in her throat as she wraps her arms around him. There's a lot to be said for idly making out, but this is better, the way he feels on top of her, everywhere against her, as close as possible and still not enough. She hooks her leg over his, nails dragging lightly down his back. She could talk enough for both of them easily, but she doesn't want to stop kissing him.

As if he wasn't already unwilling to disengage for anything, with the way she reacts, Sean could have knife stuck in his side and still not be able to move away. Forcing himself not to grit his teeth and letting pleasure override the pain, he arches his back up against her hands, skimming his fingers along the length of her body and letting himself become overwhelmed from kissing her.

Meredith's all but forgotten the idea of taking her time, and even if she remembered, she'd feel they've taken plenty as it is, not least because of all the waiting over his injuries. Even if that weren't the case, drawing things out means she's wound up enough that simple touch makes her want more anyway. Pulling him closer, she turns her head away to kiss his jaw, the easy, almost drowsy mood of a few moments ago gone. It's always been one of her first responses to trouble, which has made the last couple weeks difficult in some respects, though it's been a lot better than she expected it would be. That things are looking up doesn't make her any less eager.

There's nothing slow or lazy about her actions now, and while Sean's not yet ready to really make it worth her while, it's hard not to get swept up in all that she's giving him. His heart is racing as he tips his head to the side and rolls his hips against hers, breath coming in rough pants. What's a bit of pain when compared to what she does to him, anyway? They're both all too familiar feelings, but he's been waiting far longer to get the one than the other.

Meredith nips at his neck, a whine in her throat as she presses back, turning her head to kiss him again. Though he's pressed close against her, she strains toward him all the same, every inch trying to get closer, as if with enough effort that could be possible, like she's trying to disappear in it all. She'll never manage it, but she won't stop trying, leg hitching higher against his hip, holding him against her.

Valentine's Day [for Meredith]

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