He's holding a paper bag in one hand and two steaming cups stacked in the other. My chest unlocks before I can stop it. Then my throat tightens.
"You found it," I say, hoarser than I intend.
He lifts one cup slightly. "Downtown's not that big. And the truck was gone, so." His eyes flick over my face, the braid, the too-bright tent around us. Cataloguing everything in that silent way of his. "I read your note," he adds quietly.
"Oh."
"Wasn't sure if showing up would piss you off or not." He stares at the bag, then back at me. "Decided I could live with that more than I could live with you not eating."
He says it the way he'd say the weather. Simple and steady. He holds the bag out. I take it, fingers brushing his. I feel it all the way up my wrist. Hate that I do.
"What is it?" Partly to fill the space, partly because my stomach complains again.
"Egg sandwich. The decent kind. From that spot Ruby loves."
"Ruby loves anything with extra cheese and carbs."
"Yeah, well. So do you." Ghost of a smile.
He sets one cup on the supply cart beside us, then holds the other out to me.
I look down. "I didn't want to wake you." Half an apology. The best I can manage standing up.
"I know. Still would've preferred pissed-off-and-woken to you sneaking out before dawn to patch up half the city without eating."
"I wasn't sneaking."
One brow lifts. "You walked into our room on bare feet, didn't turn on the light, and left a note instead of nudging me awake to say, 'hey, I'm about to go drown myself in other people's emergencies.'"
Okay. Maybe I was sneaking.
I clear my throat. "We're kind of busy," I deflect, gesturing at the flurry around us. "And you were exhausted. I didn't see the point in disrupting your sleep on top of everything else."
He looks as though he wants to say he'd have preferred the disruption. That's what he does. Lets things wreck him if it means he can show up. The thing I love most about him. It's also the thing that terrifies me.
He doesn't push it now. Nods toward the cup in my hand instead.
"Coffee. The good kind. Not whatever sludge they're brewing here."
I take a sip. Heat seeps into my fingers, up into my palms, loosening some of the chill that's settled in my bones.
"Thank you."
"Anytime." Soft. "I mean that."
We stand in the middle of organized chaos, facing each other as if we're alone instead of surrounded by moans and beeping and shouted orders.
"I know last night…" he starts, then stops. "I know I came at you hard."
I shake my head. "You didn't. You just… asked for things I didn't know how to give."
His eyes cloud. "I shouldn't have put you in that position right after the basement."
"I shouldn't have snapped at you. You were trying to help."
He huffs. "We can play blame ping-pong later, yeah?" His mouth twitches. "Right now I just wanted you to know… I'm still here. Even if you need space. Even if you're pissed at me. I'm not going anywhere."
"Why are you always kinder to me than I am to myself?" I mutter, more to the coffee lid than him.
