We Got Lots Of History

Slow Mornings

His eyes stung as he blearily opened them. A stream of sunlight temporarily blinded him. When he came back to his senses he took in the familiar surroundings. Pieces of her were visible to him as he stared at the room. But pieces of him too were present. His own mug, his blanket, the coat that hung next to the door. The clothes that he had placed in one of her drawers. He was tricking himself into thinking that they were actually living together. He got up groaning at his stiff back and he walked towards the bathroom. Along the way he stopped at the threshold of her door. She looked peaceful and young. He sat there and thought of all the what ifs, of all the could have been's.

He could never allow himself to make all those fantasies come true. His heart caught, laced with pain and sorrow. He couldn't be with her. He just couldn't. She was everything. The air that he breathed, the blood that coursed in his veins. And what would happen if he wasn't enough? When she finally realized that she deserved so much better? He had a temporary lapse of judgement in the past when he let himself indulge in his fantasies, when he tried to make them come true because he was scared that soon enough they would lose their lives and he just couldn't go without knowing the feel of her lips, her taste, the way she sounded when he did everything right.

Part of him regretted that because now he had to live with the consequences of his actions. He wouldn't blame her if she decided to hate him. Sometimes he hated himself for what he did. A dark part of him knew that it wasn't enough, he needed more, he needed to drown himself in her and to never come out. To live underneath her skin.

That was why he applied to the MACUSA program. A program that would challenge his skills, and train him better. A way to get away from her and his feelings. It scared him. How much she meant to him. He was running away, like a coward. Bravery waste very his strong suit, nor comfortation. They were Tommy's and Cassie's, but not his. Never his. His boss told him to apply for this position. He said that he was a great Auror and he wanted him to be his successor. While he had been flattered by his admition, he knew that there were people more qualified than him but he greedily accepted his praise and the form.

He was supposed to get a reply any day now. How was he going to tell them that for the next two months he would stay in America. He would leave them behind. He loved his job and he wanted to climb ranks, he tried to convince himself that this was the only reason that he applied for the position. What a liar he was.

He registered her waking up and he lost his train of thought. Soft sleepy hums sounded as she turned to him. And she glared at him through her barely open eyes.

"Coffee?" He asked with a scratchy voice. Sleep still clung to him like a blanket weighting him down. She seemed like a piece of heaven as she goggily rubbed her eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess. Even in the most unkempt state she was a sight for sore eyes. He wished to stay there forever, in their small bubble.

It was all so domestic. A picture he wanted to play out every morning. Them in their shared apartment, having breakfast together. Working around their routine. He showered, using her shampoo, carrying her scent all day. He wiped the misty mirror before opening a cabinet which contained a shelf full of his products. Shaving cream, after shave, a comb, his toothbrush.

He covered his cheeks with his shaving cream before placing the razor lightly on his skin. For a moment he paused. He could hear her, cursing under her breath as the smell of something burning reach his nose. He started moving his hand downwards. The scene that was portraited in the mirror was familiar. Droplets of water staying in his skin, or running down to his hips were his towel rested. The air was foggy and humid and the only thing visible was his face as he stared intensely in his form through the mirror trying not to cut himself.

The door creaked and her head poked through the gap. Her eyes comically widened before she slapped her palm in her face. He smirked as he asked "Do you need something?"

You. Forever. "My lipstick."

"Which one?"

"The red one."

"Here." She parted her fingers, peeked through the gaps before quickly grabbing it and darting out of the room. Before he noticed her flaming face.

They were cutting it late as they rushed down the streets of magical London. The ministry was a few meters away and Theseus glanced at his watch. They were so going to get teased for being late. He could already see Thomas' smug face in his mind, saying "did you stay up late doing something interesting? " or "what took you so long? Had a slow morning or an early start?" accompanied with several over the top winks. But if he was being honest to himself it was worth it. If only for the giggles she released once they entered the lift. They were out of breath, their cheeks puffed and slightly pink from the cold. His hands were resting on top of his bend knees as he trying to calm down his racing heartbeat.

He turned with a smile on his face towards their working station. Only to find horrified faces and restless Aurors running left and right.

"Triantafyllou, about time. We caught him. And I believe he knows you, since he has said that he will only converse with you." The Head of their department bellowed once they entered the office. And with a steadying breath Cassandra moved forward confidently, leaving him behind as Thomas approached him with a crazy smirk and wiggling eyebrows. It would be a long day....