DELAWYER | (let’s thread this omg)
They’ve settled into something.
Being the professionals they are, and having had adequate time to adjust to their lives apart, working together has become seamless.
After everything that tore them apart, it was ironic, almost, that they were working together, spending so much time together again. But she could genuinely say she loved working with him. She loved being around him so much again, and she loved the comfortable ease at which a friendship had resumed.
She loved him, but then, she never really stopped.
Everyone goes out for drinks after a long day of shooting.
Everyone is lovely and comfortable and if Sawyer smiles at Delaney for a little too long or Delaney catches herself staring, nobody says a word.
The night winds down.
Friends trickle home, or to their hotels, until it’s the two of them left alone, slightly buzzed, expertly exhausted, catching up at the bar.
He’s more forward than she remembers when he asks "Can I kiss you?" and her heart thuds and face flushes.
She wants to cry out about how much she misses him; she misses the way he smells and how solid he feels while leaning against him and she misses most of all his lips on hers.
She hesitates too long, and he apologizes.
Just like him to ask and then apologize when he doesn’t immediately get an answer.
She grabs his hand and stares for a minute.
“Please kiss me.”
I miss you.
She’d cut her hair.
All in the name of science, really.
Did men find girls with pixie cuts equally attractive as girls with gorgeous long red hair?
More specifically, did Felix?
Women, she corrected herself. She really had to stop referring to herself as a girl.
Armed with a cup of coffee in each hand, and as much confidence as she could muster, Mels made her way into his office and smiled, “Brought you coffee,”
"Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!" he looked up, ready to thank her and instead raising an eyebrow. "New haircut! I like it!"
”Do you?” she half-smiles.
"You look absolutely gorgeous, Miss Quinn," he takes the coffee, walking around his desk and kissing her on the cheek. She knows his order by now, they’d gotten coffee and gone back to either of their places enough times by now.
"Really? Because feels a bit newsboy, I’ve never had short hair in my life so I feel a bit odd and don’t men find longer hair more attractive I mean—"
"Mels," he cuts her off, leaning against his desk. "Trust me, you’re bloody gorgeous. Kind of can’t wait to see you wearing nothing but the haircut," he grins like the cheeky bastard he is, and she furrows her brow.
"A haircut isn’t an article of clothing," she corrects.
"I’m trying to flirt with you, Mels."
She blushes and hides her face behind her hand. “I knew that.”
She did know that. But that was Melody Quinn—too awkward for grown up flirting without making it weird.
"Storm is coming," her eyes are lit up with excitement.
She met him in the spring.
She fell in love with him over the long and sweltering summer, in different states of the world, states of undress, and states of mind.
Cooper had never known Genny during winter, so he had not seen Genny alive with excitement over an impending storm (though the city by the bay somehow had milder weather, foggy and cold almost always).
This was a real storm. The kind with thunder that shook her apartment and lightning that lit up the skies.
Genny comes alive as if the lightning feeds her.
They watch the storm for a while from her window-facing couch as a text alert flashes on his phone.
Flights are grounded for the next 24 hours due to storms.
Cooper has work, so he groans.
Genny loves storms, so she grins, flipping herself to straddle his lap and kiss his neck. “Guess you won’t be leaving me tomorrow after all.”
There’s the silver lining that he loves so much.