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Very First Stitches

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Rocking Chair

She grabbed at his wrists before he could even complete his train of thought. His palms were a hair's breadth away, skin almost touching. The air came exhaling out of his lungs in one big whoosh. He rose his gaze incrementally, attempting to peer up at her without actually having to face her completely. His mouth settled its way into a concerned frown, sensing her displeasure.

'Why?' He thought immediately. Leave it to him to mess something up and not even know what he'd done wrong.

"Oh, quit looking like that you silly man," Trisha Elric smiled down at him, not removing her hands from his skin. Rather, she twisted her own palms around to lie within her husband's, before pulling one up to rest against her cheek. Satisfied that she had now conveniently freed one of her hands, she nudged her fingers beneath Van's chin, careful to watch for his pride, his easily wounded center of grief, his omnipresent guilt. She levered his stricken expression up before her for inspection, gently pressing her forehead against his own, her lips prescribing a petal-soft kiss atop his nose as a remedy, "you look like I caught you kicking a puppy. You certainly haven't done anything wrong, though."

Her tone was light, mindful, wary. She never pressed too far, never imposed, yet her love blanketed him. He was wrapped fully in her all encompassing warmth, and he felt the smile pull across his wide mouth before he could even comprehend it.

"Trisha?" He inquired in a gentle whisper; words too loud would shatter this moment, it was so soft. "What?"

Her hand returned to her cheek, covering his where it still sat, his thumb skirting smooth across her cheekbone. She gave the back of it a gentle pat as she turned her face to lean further into his touch.

"Always worrying," Trisha chided, clicking her tongue and placing another soft kiss in the center of his palm. His eyes slid shut, and a smile pulled softly at her lips. He could feel it in his hand, and he smiled back tenderly, "you didn't do anything," she repeated, "just …" A quiet fell over her, before she continued in an almost comically conspiratory whisper, "no alchemy."

Van's eyes opened slowly, watching as his wife placed a second soft kiss against the inside of his palm. He sat, transfixed, as she spoke again, words almost inaudible to his ears, but he could feel each one like a song against his skin.

"This life we're building together, it's not gonna be easy," Trisha intoned, nuzzling against Van's hand with a hum of contentment. She reached up and grabbed his wrists once more, bringing her lover's hands between them to lie upon her swollen belly, large with child: their little man, "but we'll build it. With our own hands."

Overcome with emotion, Van heaved in a great breath, pressing his face hard into Trisha's neck, and inhaling her scent like it were a drug. He felt as the impossible odds in his mind … It was all so scary, so unlikely, but she was so sure everything would be okay. He had to try, at least, to think so too. Anyway …

"I love you," Trisha breathed, the words hot in his ear as she embraced him even tighter, clutching to him impossibly tight.

His lips skimmed across her collarbone, his hands coming around her to return her embrace with an almost desperate fervor. He felt her sigh around him, amazed that this woman loved him, that this moment was his.

He chuckled suddenly against the skin of her bare shoulder, surprising even himself, a bit, "if you want a rocking chair that badly, I suppose I'll have to try to recall how to use a hammer properly, won't I?"

"That's the spirit!" She called out with a laugh.

Then she pulled his head up and kissed him.