"Thank you for telling me that," she says at once, because now she realizes she hadn't actually done that yet. That can't stand, not when it means everything to her.
There's still a lot of space between them, she really had intended to leave it there, respect that, but- she has to slide closer, not right next to him but closer on the couch so she can put her hand over his where it's been pressing into his knee.
"As far as I'm concerned, everything is okay between us."
He tries not to pull in a breath, tries not to react like that does something, like that means something. He spends more than enough time with Furiosa that it isn't like he never spends time with women, like he never touches women. But this isn't the same thing.
He doesn't know why, but it's not the same thing.
He's suddenly grateful that the flood didn't affect her, because he can work on keeping his face neutral as he looks at her hand, but he wouldn't have been able to hide his confusion, nor the quick spike of joy and affection. When he realizes he should've reacted already, he reaches over with his other hand to cover hers.
"Good," he says, firmly. "I'd've been disappointed if it wasn't."
She wants to say she would have been too, but it's a little redundant after everything else she's said. The impulse she does give into is turning her hand in Tommy's, flipping it over and linking their fingers together. She's not sure why she needs that, why she wants to feel the warmth of his palm against hers if even for a second, but it's something she wants and she'll take her hand away before it becomes too much.
It's just so new, enjoying the feeling of someone touching her instead of wanting to immediately shake them off. It's something she wants to treasure, to burn into her memory just in case it never happens again.
If she had been affected, perhaps he could have been glad for it-- because she might have helped him make sense of why his heart is suddenly beating in his throat, why he feels scared as well as happy. But she's linking their fingers together, and the moment seems to stretch on and on as he slowly rubs his thumb over over her finger.
He thinks something impossible will roll out if he opens his mouth: so he doesn't.
Maybe if she was thinking consciously about how he can understand either the way she feels or what she's thinking, or maybe both, she's still not sure, maybe it would have her trying to do something to censor herself a little better, to tamp down the things she's feeling about all of this. It would be the nice thing to do, but she's captivated by something so simple as his thumb on her skin and it's distracting her from trying to keep herself to... well, herself.
She's smiling just a little at the wonder of it, of her hand caught between his, and how something so small can mean so much, that she doesn't even notice that there's been a lot of time passing by without them talking. When she finally speaks up, she feels a little like she's under some sort of spell.
"I do have a way with words," he says, but even if the words are supposed to sound humorous his voice only has the barest tinge of humor. He squeezes her hand, softly, and then finally risks looking at her again.
He can see it in her face, whatever he's feeling from her now. Wonder, happiness, disbelief. Part of him wants to warn her, not to get too close, because he'll inevitably hurt her-- but then he won't get to see that look again, won't get to feel her like this. So he shuts his mouth, once more.
And she laughs, softly, because the humor might barely come across but it does, and suddenly there are tears in her eyes that are only there because she's so relieved they aren't broken. He's become such an important connection to her that she knows it's dangerous to want to keep it and she's decided to take that risk all the same.
"I'm glad you're here, Tommy," she says as she wipes at her eyes quickly, letting her hair fall into her face to hide the motion the best she can.
Oh. He doesn't need it, does he? Not when her face is this open, when this can move her to tears. He lets go of her hands, but only for as long as it takes to wrap an arm around her shoulders, to pull her in like she'd pulled him in when he needed it just yesterday.
"I'm glad you're here too, Rey." If only because it gets her away from the desert, from her friends in pain, from having to fight for her life.
That surprises her and her instincts almost win out, she almost pulls back, but it's Tommy and the urge the flee spikes and fades so fast that there's only a moment of tension in her before she lets herself lean into him a little.
It's very different, doing this when no one is sad or hurting or afraid. All the other hugs she's been party to have come in the wake of telling someone Han Solo is dead, or being relieved that she hadn't been forgotten one more time when Finn and Han and Chewbacca had come for her. And then, of course, there's Tommy, and that hug certainly had not been a response to anything happy or pleasant.
It's never just been like this, something simple and sweet. The sense of wonder comes flooding back as she lets her head lay against his shoulder, as she finally reciprocates by putting her arms around him and resting her hands on his back. She sees why people do this now, why it's something they would seek out.
It surprises him, despite everything. The surge of her emotions, for one, but the mere fact that she's letting him do this. That she's putting her arms around him and just resting against him, as she settles into the pleasant feeling of being held.
He sighs softly and pillows his chin on the top of her head, thumb rubbing small circles into the bare skin of her shoulder. He is suddenly intensely glad for the year he's spent here, for the time that's allowed him to become the kind of man who can do this.
It's like a gift, honestly, and she never had anyone to teach her that refusing a gift was considered rude but she knows it all the same. She knows she wouldn't ever want to really reject this, something so simple and sweet as a hug that exists for no other reason than to show he's there for her in a way no one ever has been before.
When the hug goes on, she finds she's okay with that. Her hands bunch up in his jacket and she closes her eyes and really lets it all sink in, committing this to memory just like she had the way he'd been touching her hand.
This is undoubtedly better, she thinks absently, and when he sighs she echoes him and lets herself relax into him even more. She's been so tired lately, all of the stress and fear have run her down and given her nightmares of her own, and this is the first time she's felt real peace in weeks.
He's more than happy to stay like that for a few long, long minutes. He closes his own eyes when he hears her sigh and feels her relax. He isn't sure whether it's the empathy, whatever's inside him, that's doing it, but he feels peace coming from her.
And he did that. There's a sudden tightness in his chest, and he pulls her just a little bit closer as he tries to breathe through it. He wasn't made to bring anyone peace, but she found the part inside of him that still can, and has laid it open and bare.
Eventually, the position puts a crick in his back, and he just-- very briefly tightens their embrace, before shifting. "I should go," he says, his voice soft, like anything louder will break the spell.
She doesn't try to cling to him, isn't even really sad when the moment is clearly coming to an end, not when it meant so much while it was real, when they were in the middle of it. When he shifts her arms slip down easily but she has the memory of him pulling her tight to him to keep it from being hard to let him go.
"When this flood has passed, we'll go to the deck and I'll show you how that works," she says, her voice heavy with the desire to sleep very soon and incredibly, incredibly soft because of it. All of the things that kept her from looking that way are gone now, she's relaxed and her face is clear of worry and she feels good more than anything else. "We can throw things off the side of the ship and you can try to shoot them."
He laughs softly, brushing his knuckles over her shoulder as he stands up and stretches. He can see how sleepy she is, and feel it besides, so he just walks over to the table, takes the bowcaster and makes for the door.
"Thank you," he says, once more, and even he isn't sure what he's thanking her for the most.
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"You helped," he says, firmly, wanting her to know that for sure, again. "And- you know now. That I felt those things."
So they're good?
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There's still a lot of space between them, she really had intended to leave it there, respect that, but- she has to slide closer, not right next to him but closer on the couch so she can put her hand over his where it's been pressing into his knee.
"As far as I'm concerned, everything is okay between us."
no subject
He doesn't know why, but it's not the same thing.
He's suddenly grateful that the flood didn't affect her, because he can work on keeping his face neutral as he looks at her hand, but he wouldn't have been able to hide his confusion, nor the quick spike of joy and affection. When he realizes he should've reacted already, he reaches over with his other hand to cover hers.
"Good," he says, firmly. "I'd've been disappointed if it wasn't."
no subject
It's just so new, enjoying the feeling of someone touching her instead of wanting to immediately shake them off. It's something she wants to treasure, to burn into her memory just in case it never happens again.
no subject
He thinks something impossible will roll out if he opens his mouth: so he doesn't.
no subject
She's smiling just a little at the wonder of it, of her hand caught between his, and how something so small can mean so much, that she doesn't even notice that there's been a lot of time passing by without them talking. When she finally speaks up, she feels a little like she's under some sort of spell.
"I never would have let someone do that before."
no subject
He can see it in her face, whatever he's feeling from her now. Wonder, happiness, disbelief. Part of him wants to warn her, not to get too close, because he'll inevitably hurt her-- but then he won't get to see that look again, won't get to feel her like this. So he shuts his mouth, once more.
no subject
"I'm glad you're here, Tommy," she says as she wipes at her eyes quickly, letting her hair fall into her face to hide the motion the best she can.
no subject
"I'm glad you're here too, Rey." If only because it gets her away from the desert, from her friends in pain, from having to fight for her life.
no subject
It's very different, doing this when no one is sad or hurting or afraid. All the other hugs she's been party to have come in the wake of telling someone Han Solo is dead, or being relieved that she hadn't been forgotten one more time when Finn and Han and Chewbacca had come for her. And then, of course, there's Tommy, and that hug certainly had not been a response to anything happy or pleasant.
It's never just been like this, something simple and sweet. The sense of wonder comes flooding back as she lets her head lay against his shoulder, as she finally reciprocates by putting her arms around him and resting her hands on his back. She sees why people do this now, why it's something they would seek out.
no subject
He sighs softly and pillows his chin on the top of her head, thumb rubbing small circles into the bare skin of her shoulder. He is suddenly intensely glad for the year he's spent here, for the time that's allowed him to become the kind of man who can do this.
no subject
When the hug goes on, she finds she's okay with that. Her hands bunch up in his jacket and she closes her eyes and really lets it all sink in, committing this to memory just like she had the way he'd been touching her hand.
This is undoubtedly better, she thinks absently, and when he sighs she echoes him and lets herself relax into him even more. She's been so tired lately, all of the stress and fear have run her down and given her nightmares of her own, and this is the first time she's felt real peace in weeks.
no subject
And he did that. There's a sudden tightness in his chest, and he pulls her just a little bit closer as he tries to breathe through it. He wasn't made to bring anyone peace, but she found the part inside of him that still can, and has laid it open and bare.
Eventually, the position puts a crick in his back, and he just-- very briefly tightens their embrace, before shifting. "I should go," he says, his voice soft, like anything louder will break the spell.
no subject
"When this flood has passed, we'll go to the deck and I'll show you how that works," she says, her voice heavy with the desire to sleep very soon and incredibly, incredibly soft because of it. All of the things that kept her from looking that way are gone now, she's relaxed and her face is clear of worry and she feels good more than anything else. "We can throw things off the side of the ship and you can try to shoot them."
no subject
"Thank you," he says, once more, and even he isn't sure what he's thanking her for the most.