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It scares her, how much influence he has over her actions. How hopelessly at a loss for words, expression, reaction. [break][break]

His response elicits an uncomfortable mixture of dread and relief. It sinks into her skin, slackening her shoulders and tugging a breath from her lungs. She hesitates then, because she's uncomfortable, unsure. His voice is raw, his intents are clear. Once again, she's witnessing his desire, his affection. [break][break]

"Then why are you filled with so much doubt?"

She turns as she asks this, witnessing the dramatization of his hands.

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At their feet, the pups continue to roll around in the dust, oblivious to the severity of conflict.[break][break]

"I was caught off guard." He tries his best to avoid sounding defensive. His hands are bracing, fingers spread, as if he's trying to talk someone out of a bad decision. Just hear me out, OK? "I've never had to think about — reacting the right way to this."[break][break]

It had been an understood thing among his inner circle, in youth: My family doesn't celebrate holidays. No, not even birthdays. As an adult, he hadn't let anyone get close enough to think about it. He was ice and sharp edges to some, smirks and dismissive humour to others, all cocooning a warmth that only Emma has grown close enough to witness. There was no place for warmth in Rocket.[break][break]

He is more than just Rocket.[break][break]

He braces himself on a breath, studies words before he speaks.[break][break]

'What do you want from me?'[break][break]

"I want your trust, Emma. This, you trusting me with this?" He gestures vaguely to the Rockruff litter, though his eyes never leave her. "This is exactly the kind of thing I want, for us."[break][break]

Us. The word lingers, spoken but still undefined.

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Emma is, by nature, an unforgiving and selfish creature. She reacts on instinct, impulse, tuning her action and reaction to the moment, reading the room and estimating her response. But right here, right now, she is lost. Her emotions rise and fall and she feels distinctly helpless. The magnitude of her affection had come to a dramatic head and here she was denying it for the sake of justifying why Gavin might have reacted the way he had.[break][break]

She had overstepped, overdone it. Expected too much of her lover, assumed this gift would be acceptable. She hadn't wanted to put an expectation or name to the gesture - hadn't wanted to call it a gift. But that was what it was: a gift. She had expected him to accept it without hesitation and remain indifferent. Because even in his indifference she could see his affection.[break][break]

But he was shaking, angry, confused, distant. He struggled with his response and she lashed out because of it. She's standing across from a broken man, unable to see past his walls to see what horrors lay in his past. Her stubbornness prevents her from understanding, from wanting to. She bears her own demons.[break][break]

However, her breath is stolen from her at his request. Involuntarily, her shoulders sag and she becomes vulnerable in his presence once again, cracked open at the core by the simplest of instruction; but Gavin's request for her trust wasn't simple. The word was simple, but the strength it bore and the strength it took to be trusted was anything but simple.[break][break]

And then he says us and she's struck with paralysis, staring unblinkingly at the man in front of her. The term elicits a response she is familiar with and yet terrified of. An emotion she's felt before with someone she never thought she'd lose, but she had. [break][break]

I am yours and you are mine.[break][break]

The phrase had felt hollow once and it feels renewed, and yet she doesn't dare speak it aloud. Instead, she breathes only a quiet response, voice strained with raw emotion - almost grief.[break][break]

"Okay."

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A subtle shift in the air around them, tension evaporating under the heat of raw emotion, and Gavin knows he's gotten through to her, somehow.
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No, not somehow. He knows the exact moment, had recognized it — us.[break][break]

Earlier misgivings, worries that she did not feel the same about the blossoming something between them, are suffocated beneath the weight of this knowledge. She felt it, too. They didn't need to say it, and he doesn't say it now — instead, he closes the distance between them and pulls her into an embrace containing all the ferocity of the emotion behind it.[break][break]

"Okay," he repeats, and doesn't let go. "I never said — thank you."[break][break]

For the gift, for everything.

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Her breath is stolen from her by the fierceness of his embrace. He breaches the distance before she has a chance to pull away. Honestly, she isn't sure that she would have.[break][break]

Gavin's voice is loud in her ear, in her heart. Her response time is slow, her body stiff at first as he holds her. But she relaxes slowly, arms finding their way up and around him in an awkward attempt to reciprocate. [break][break]

But her lack of immediate action isn't an accurate depiction of her feelings - she's just never been good at expression.[break][break]

"You're welcome."[break][break]

She is breathless, soft, completely unlike herself.

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