Title: Through Sparks and Shining Dragons
Cal/Gillian, fluff, no spoilers, pg
Author's Notes: Set early season 2. Utter fluff.
I love you through sparks and shining dragons, I do.
Guillemots, Made Up Love Song 43
Autumn was her favourite time of year, he knew. His feet crunched through the fallen, browning leaves as he walked up the path to her new home. He could see the glow of the television, the soft lamplight and her elegant figure curled up on the comfortable-looking sofa under an even softer afghan.
He wished he had a key so he didn't have to disturb her. She rose willingly from the sofa, though as she saw him wave through the window, leaving behind the paused faces of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan on her television screen as she walked towards the door with a smile on her face.
"Cal, hi," she said, as she opened the door.
"Hi," he replied, shuffling his feet in the leaves. He watched her smell the air, her smile growing wider. "Autumn, yes, I know," he added, before she could say anything.
"Fall. I do love it," she grinned, opening the door wider. "Come in."
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
"No, I'm just watching a film," she answered as she walked towards the kitchen calling, "Drink?" over her shoulder.
"Please." He followed her through, watched her pad around her new kitchen with ease and new-found familiarity. He thought to himself how different she was outside of work, how relaxed and happy she looked with sofa-mussed hair and feet clad in slipper boots. She looked snug and happy and cosy and all words he associated with Gillian and home and autumn.
A cup of coffee being pushed into his hands broke him from his thoughts and he muttered his thanks as he realised she was already past him and settling herself back on the sofa under her afghan. She un-paused the film but lowered the volume, waiting quietly for him to join her.
"You've Got Mail?" he asked, eyebrows raised, as he circled the sofa and realised what she was watching. One of Emily's favourites.
"Yes," she replied, stating the obvious.
His forehead scrunched together as he tried to figure this puzzle out. "Why?"
She looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. A soft smile on her face as she humoured him. "Because I like it."
He came to drop down on the sofa next to her, his left arm landing on her blanketed legs. "How many times have you watched this?" Genuine curiosity, now.
"More than I can count," she shook her head, lightly.
"But it's about love," he replied, still bemused.
"Yes, but it's about happy love, not sad love. It makes me happy just watching it," she replied, smiling.
He was quiet for a while, mulling everything over. Somewhere in that time his hand had started absentmindedly caressing her leg, ever so softly. She watched him in the soft lamplight, emotions flittering across his unguarded face. Finally, he turned to her, his expression gentle, his words quiet. "You still believe in love?"
Her breath hitched. Gentle was a side of Cal he rarely ever let anyone see, and it made her quietly happy to know that he would show it to her. "Yes, I do," she answered, her tone matching his oh-so-quiet question as she met his eyes with hers. They sparkled.
Moving his hand from her leg, he reached for hers and squeezed it. "Good."
She smiled, and didn't let go.