Substitute For Something
Warm fingers and sweet kisses on the inside of her wrist.
This wasn't the plan, wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Danny should be with someone glamorous, someone like Zoe or Sam. Someone who was exciting and sexy and just a little bit risky.
He shouldn't be with her.
And Ruth shouldn't be in his bed, soft moans rumbling in her throat as he sucked on her fingers.
It grew from desperation and loneliness. From the need to hold on to something -- someone -- to feel like they were alive. It grew from a drink and a hug and a hand resting briefly on a leg. It grew too quickly, before they even had a chance to understand it.
She told herself that it was normal. It was completely normal for two lonely people to reach for each other, night after night. It was normal for them to want each other so much; to need each other.
It was normal to have her head on his pillow, arching her back as he ran his hand down the inside of her leg.
"Do you miss her, Danny?"
"Zoe?" He ran his hand through her hair, twisting the ends around the his fingers. "Sure. Every day."
She smiled. "I thought so."
"What about you, Ruth?" He traced the curve of her face, cupping his hand under her chin. "Do you miss Tom?"
The smile slipped for a second. "All the time."
He wrapped his arms around her and they pretended to sleep.
Warm mouths and soft kisses and little cries that caught in the back of her throat.
Sometimes Ruth wondered if anyone suspected. If anyone at work noticed that she was leaving earlier than usual. If anyone realised that Danny was following her in, an hour or two before he usually appeared. She wondered if anyone would say anything to her, or if they would just indulge in gossip behind her back. Would Harry call them into his office to talk about it? Would it matter?
What would they think? Would they think it too rushed, too sudden? Would they consider her a strange choice for someone like Danny? Would they try to convince him to move on, to find someone more his type? Someone more . . . suitable.
Cool sheets and smooth skin and moonlight filtering through his window and leaving wavering patterns across the room.
She suspected that she needed him more than he needed her. That they were both broken and lonely, but she was the one who needed to cling on the most. He had a family out there somewhere, as well as most of the service looking out for him since Zoe left. She had her cat, of course, but most of the time she managed to slip under the radar, where most of the time no one would check to see if she was alright.
She whispered to him at one in the morning, when she thought he was sleeping. "Promise you won't leave me, Danny."
He rolled towards her, slipping his fingers under her hair and rubbing the warm skin at the nape of her neck. "I promise."
Cold feet and warm legs and two bodies pressed hard against each other.
It wasn't really love. They accepted that with silence and desperate kisses and kisses that never seemed to end. It was comfort and substitution and desperation, and in the end that was okay.
It was what they craved; what they needed. What they fought to hold on to as hard as they possibly could. It was a little bit of humanity they wanted to keep burning inside. It was warm fingers and sweet kisses on the inside of her wrists. It was quietness and stillness and warm bodies and moonlight wavering through windows. It was two people, too sad and broken and lonely to contemplate anything else.
Sometimes she wished, she prayed, that it could be real, that it would somehow turn into love, that she would be able to hold onto it -- him -- forever. But most of the time she acknowledged it for what it was: a sad affair between lonely people.
And someday -- one day -- she would have to let go.
Hands on her hips and mouth at her throat, and murmured names that didn't belong to either of them.