( There's another soft laugh, a quiet chuckle, and he doesn't have to think about it. Little, who takes things so earnestly more often than not, knows she's teasing him from the expression on her face, the subtle movements, and it further eases up the shyness in him. )
There is much to be learned in the officer's manual, you know. I lament I don't have it here with me.
( ....And then guess who's going to be making an appearance soon? Guess what Edward will now be inspired to ask for from that very hog? Thank you, Miss Earp, for the inspiration. )
Am I? ( More modern than he might think. It's a strange thought, he's so often felt out of place here, even among the others from the expedition. John is the only other one who still holds so firmly to his "past"(?) self. But then Wynonna's adjusting things again, and Little lets her, and she's so close now that he's afraid she might be able to feel him breathe in, then out. His heart skips at least one beat, his pulse quickens, mind padded in some static buzz.
But he lets her guide him, following her movements. It's slow, and intimate — very intimate, for his time; again, he reflects on the fact he can feel her body brushing his. There's maybe a single moment where he worries deeply for the eyes of others upon them, mostly for her sake, her reputation....
....But it slips away faster than it probably should. She's even warmer against him now, solid and secure. And he has to turn his head a little to the side so that he isn't too close to her face, leaning slightly in over her shoulder, eyes sweeping to the column of neck exposed beneath her thick, loose hair. He shouldn't look there, shouldn't gaze there, but he does.
He's never been this close, in this way, to anyone. It's almost like hugging her — which he has done before, in one frantic, desperate moment. But that was fast and slow and devastating. This is so much more gentle. His heart is back to pounding, and he should be mortified by the thought that Wynonna could hear, or even feel it. Some part of him might be, but—
Slowly, gently, his fingers spread out more against her back, palm flush, and exerting pressure so slightly it's almost nothing at all. It's not at all insistent and doesn't push her tighter against him really, just the ghost of a thing; perhaps he's only adjusting his own position, settling more into it. But maybe what it actually is, is a quiet dose of affection; underneath everything, Little is an unexpectedly affectionate man, when the time is appropriate for it.
He's afraid to move much more after that, though, oddly aware of how hot his blood feels, as though something's slowly building. He swallows, feet slowly moving along with hers, and finds words are hard to come by.
Then something does, because he feels the soft brush of her necklace against him, and he still hasn't really gotten a good look at it, certainly can't now, but it's something to voice. )
Your jewelry — I haven't noticed it before. ( He shouldn't have said that, either. He shouldn't have done or said a lot of things tonight. But this, at least, is something to talk about, to keep his voice going so that he doesn't fall into complete and utter silence, and there's only the sound of his own thudding heart to fill it. )
Was it gifted to you? By this place?
( ....He was recently "gifted" a pocketwatch chain, but let's not speak about that. )
no subject
There is much to be learned in the officer's manual, you know. I lament I don't have it here with me.
( ....And then guess who's going to be making an appearance soon? Guess what Edward will now be inspired to ask for from that very hog? Thank you, Miss Earp, for the inspiration. )
Am I? ( More modern than he might think. It's a strange thought, he's so often felt out of place here, even among the others from the expedition. John is the only other one who still holds so firmly to his "past"(?) self. But then Wynonna's adjusting things again, and Little lets her, and she's so close now that he's afraid she might be able to feel him breathe in, then out. His heart skips at least one beat, his pulse quickens, mind padded in some static buzz.
But he lets her guide him, following her movements. It's slow, and intimate — very intimate, for his time; again, he reflects on the fact he can feel her body brushing his. There's maybe a single moment where he worries deeply for the eyes of others upon them, mostly for her sake, her reputation....
....But it slips away faster than it probably should. She's even warmer against him now, solid and secure. And he has to turn his head a little to the side so that he isn't too close to her face, leaning slightly in over her shoulder, eyes sweeping to the column of neck exposed beneath her thick, loose hair. He shouldn't look there, shouldn't gaze there, but he does.
He's never been this close, in this way, to anyone. It's almost like hugging her — which he has done before, in one frantic, desperate moment. But that was fast and slow and devastating. This is so much more gentle. His heart is back to pounding, and he should be mortified by the thought that Wynonna could hear, or even feel it. Some part of him might be, but—
Slowly, gently, his fingers spread out more against her back, palm flush, and exerting pressure so slightly it's almost nothing at all. It's not at all insistent and doesn't push her tighter against him really, just the ghost of a thing; perhaps he's only adjusting his own position, settling more into it. But maybe what it actually is, is a quiet dose of affection; underneath everything, Little is an unexpectedly affectionate man, when the time is appropriate for it.
He's afraid to move much more after that, though, oddly aware of how hot his blood feels, as though something's slowly building. He swallows, feet slowly moving along with hers, and finds words are hard to come by.
Then something does, because he feels the soft brush of her necklace against him, and he still hasn't really gotten a good look at it, certainly can't now, but it's something to voice. )
Your jewelry — I haven't noticed it before. ( He shouldn't have said that, either. He shouldn't have done or said a lot of things tonight. But this, at least, is something to talk about, to keep his voice going so that he doesn't fall into complete and utter silence, and there's only the sound of his own thudding heart to fill it. )
Was it gifted to you? By this place?
( ....He was recently "gifted" a pocketwatch chain, but let's not speak about that. )