evermore SUDDEN DESIRE ONESHOTS

ii. 'tis the damn season

EVERMORE
—   II. 'tis the damn season
A SUDDEN DESIRE ONESHOT
POST SUDDEN DESIRE AU

She's been sitting on the front porch for a few minutes now. On the porch swing, the one he'd insisted they buy - ('it's all part of the vision! We need a porch swing!' he'd said, and who was she to argue with that?) - and, even despite the blanket she'd wrapped tightly around herself, the cold still seems in right down to the bone.

D.C. winters, she's come to learn in those few short years she's lived here, are harsh and unforgiving some days. Her breath comes out in cloudy puffs before her, shivers pulling tight through her aching limbs, even as she tugs her jacket closer around her. She cups a mug of coffee in her hands, craving the shot of caffeine, a futile attempt to keep herself comfortable outside; her fingers tingle with the slowly-spreading warmth but the drink has long since gone cold. Nothing seems to keep her warm outside on days like this.

The day's first few wisps of snow have begun to fall. She'd missed it those few years she lived in California, when even in the winter the sun still seemed to shine too brightly and far too warm for her winter coats. Growing up had been all white Christmases every year and she hadn't realised how much she'd missed them until she'd ventured to D.C, until the world had paled to white while she slept and the chill crept in.

It's early still, the sun rising slowly, pooling cool light between the clouds that stretch across the pale sky. She squints up at this softly lit sky. It's almost as white as the snow that gathers on the sidewalk. It seems about as Christmas-y as Christmas can be, without the novelty and the merriment and the over-the-top persistence of decoration. Moments like these steal her breath in their beauty; the quiet whisper of the wind, the stillness of the trees and the rare silence that has grown far-too-unfamiliar to her these past few years. She savours the rare moment to breathe, to reacquaint herself with the simple comforts of the world that seem to pass her by as she spends her days wrapped up in the inside happiness she's craved for years. She savours these moments as often as she can, now, for - as much as she adores her little family with every ounce of strength she holds - sometimes a little moment to think, alone to the silence, is all it takes for her to clear her mind and relax the tense set of her shoulders.

But she wouldn't trade it for the world.

"Sunshine?" His gentle voice calls from the doorway. So familiar, so comforting, so warm. "Everything okay?"

Marcus Pike regards her with a fond expression. His eyes are still heavy from sleep, she can tell by his slow blinks. The first time he'd found her missing from their bed, when they'd first moved in together, he'd raced down the stairs, almost tripping on the last step before he noticed her wrapped up on the porch swing outside. He sleeps like the dead - long days and piles of paperwork - and rarely wakes when she does. Lately, though, he seems to be in tune with her body and always settles beside her a little while after she leaves their bed.

He regards her with the softest of smiles and reaches his hand out to rest lightly against her shoulders as he sits down beside her. The bench swings as he moves and he chuckles. She'd missed the comfort and warmth of his embrace when she'd left in the early hours of the morning - far too exhausted and anxious to sleep any longer - slipping into the kitchen in search of a hot drink and her old Death Cab for Cutie mug, content to sit outside in the cold until someone needed her, watching the snowfall as the day breaks.

Usually, Marcus' arms cradle her asleep, the weight and warmth of them enough reassurance to send her back to her dreams. But, today, worry crept in and the couple of hours of rest she'd managed was all her body seemed to want to allow her.

It's Coraline's and Marcus' turn to host Christmas this year. They and Coraline's brother the job between them, each year different to the next. This year, every room of their house seems to be filled with different members of their families; Coraline's parents in one spare room, Marcus' in the office, Coraline's younger brother on a blow-up mattress surrounded by colourfully wrapped presents for and from each one of them. Coraline has spent the past two months preparing, trying to make everything perfect, and the bags under her eyes that have appeared the past few days tell the story of the exhaustion that has consumed her. But, yet, there's still an exhausted, fulfilling happiness that has found a home inside her chest. She can't seem to find it within herself to be upset or stressed.