𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐩𝐞 - j.egan [masters of the air]

∣ 022; s u r r e n d e r

. *. ⋆

Through the one window of the surgery room, sunlight shone through, dancing along Eloise's skin, the rays sparkling over her face and bare arms, those of which were on either side of John Egan, her hands holding the material of his t-shirt and her face pressed into his chest, her ear situated over his heart, the rhythmic sound of the beat threatening to lull her back into the comfortable sleep she had woken from.

John was already awake; he had been for a while now but hadn't dared move. It wasn't like he even had the desire to.

He was comfortable beneath her, his hands tracing the moles on her back from where her pajama shirt at risen a few inches— they followed the patterns, his fingers feathering over her skin causing goosebumps to rise in their wake, a huff of a laugh tiredly escaping Eloise as she squirmed in his grip.

Her arms left his sides, went to his shoulders, looping around his warm skin, and she pulled herself up his body, her head now being angled towards his neck with her nose pressed against the skin.

"Good morning," he whispered, his morning voice still apparent in his words, "Sleep good?"

"You stayed," she hummed. "And yeah, I slept good. Thank you for staying."

"I wasn't gonna leave you," John murmured. His hands were still on her back, though they drifted down to her hips, one hand gently taking hold of her right thigh, his fingers brushing over the fabric of the uninjured part of the leg. "How's your leg doin'?"

"Sore. It's better than before, though."

The hand not holding her thigh drifted up to her face, pushing away a strand that had fallen from her French braids, the pads of his fingers softly brushing over the yellowing bruise on her face.

"What about your face?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

He smiled, dropping his face to connect their lips, electricity pouring through the soft connection as they sighed into one another, moving to get more comfortable.

Eloise, movements clumsy, laughed into the kiss as she carefully straddled John, and her moves were delicate, as were his, his hands roaming beneath her shirt, landing comfortably on her waist with his thumbs brushing over the soft skin, resulting in more laughs from Eloise. Her arms were still wrapped around John, holding him close to her, their chests pressed together— they were melting into one another, neither of them caring as their souls seemingly merged into one.

Eloise pulled back, a gentle smile lighting up her features, and John admired her fully.

The rising sun was casting a warm glow over her body, her brown eyes like fresh pools of honey, and the freckles that gently scattered her nose looked like the stars that painted the night sky, and John was sure that he had never been more in love with her than he was in this moment.

"You're divine."

She laughed, the sound breathy, "Divine?"

"Mhm. Divine."

Eloise grinned, pressing her face into the crook of John's neck as she hugged him tightly; he hugged her just as tight, his hands still under her shirt as they splayed across her warm skin, and they drifted along her back, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

"Do you have anything to do today?"

"No," John shook his head at her question.

"Good," she answered, and then she paused. "I've been thinking about our house."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. And I have a project for us to do."

"Lay it on me."