Work Text:
The rain was quite a comfort to you. Being in your apartment and watching droplets race down the windows was always a way to ground yourself, which was something so difficult to do nowadays. Work was busy, and don’t get you started on your dealings with the N109 Zone, and trying to figure out why everything everywhere was always connected somehow? Your body could barely keep up with it all, much less your mind.
You dissociated through your every day life, only seeming to remember who you were whenever a particular face came around. Xavier being assigned to the same cases as you reminded you how it felt to see clearly again. Running into Rafayel at a coffee shop made the buzz in your ears fade, and his voice become clear. Going to get a checkup and staying longer than you should in Zayne’s office reminded you that pain wasn’t supposed to be your norm. You felt guilt every time he looked at you with those tired eyes, just hoping you ate properly and got sleep. And any trip you had to make to the N109 zone, somehow Sylus made himself known. He let you be reckless and cleaned up the mess, knowing that your sanity was far better for it.
And then there was Caleb. Because of course there was. You never got to “run into” Caleb. He had duties to tend to, and the last time he made a trip down to Linkon was… had to be months ago. He lived as a line to call. There were late nights where you cooked while he told you about his day, doing his best not to share information that he knew better than to have spoken over the phone. Paper trails and all that.
And still, he made time for you. He would get back to his home in Skyhaven, sore and tired, and would listen to you rant about the wanderers that you fought during a particularly tricky mission. He always reminded you to eat when he witnessed your own negligence. And when it seemed like too much, he kept you safe from yourself.
Your mind was far too busy to be healthy.
So the rain was a comfort. You know it used to not be, somehow getting stuck in the attic and listening to the storm around you while you screamed and cried for someone, someone to save you. Not to leave you, because for some reason all you remember is being left. Over and over again, you were left alone. It always ended the same.
And then the same person came to your rescue.
Because of course it was Caleb. It was always Caleb.
Of course, your mind was never a very safe place to sit for long. That’s why you enjoyed work keeping you busy, your research taking up your time and spinning your head in twenty directions at once. At least it meant you wouldn’t end up here.
The rain soaking your tank top to your skin as you held yourself as tight as you could, eyes squeezed shut and pretending like your hands were the only ones you could feel. Of course, you were on your own terrace, you were safe. You knew that. Of course you knew that.
But their hands were there. Your throat was closing, and your tears mixed with the rain as you choked on your own saliva, hoping to swallow your nausea. You could hope and hope that the rain would wash away the path those hands trailed up your thighs, the weight that burned on your tongue, but you had to live with it. And they didn’t. They got to live, they got to leave you here. Thunder rolled in the back of your hazy mind, but the whispers were louder, the words that they had said, sweet, deceptively gentle as unwanted touch made its way-
“Pips?” The voice calls over the sound of the rain, panicked. You gasp for air, not even having realized you started hyperventilating, and in your shock, you notice that it’s stopped raining. Or- no, it hasn’t stopped raining, it’s more like the rain around you has stopped.
Your eyes open warily, and you back up from where the voice had called instinctively, railing hitting your waist. And then he’s in front of you.
Purple eyes, panting as water drips from raven hair. Your lover stands in front of you, fear radiating off of him in waves, and your eyes dart around to his eyes, his heaving chest, his parted lips, his hastily donned coat.
“Pipsqueak, hey, hey, I know Pips, I’m here, I promise, I’m here.” He mutters comforting words just loud enough for you to hear them over the rain still pouring around you.
“Caleb-“ your voice breaks. Your knees buckle, and suddenly you feel the weightlessness of his evol embrace you, softening your descent as he follows you.
“Can I touch you?” He says, his voice shaky. You nod, and he pulls you to him, and within his arms, you stop breathing for a few seconds. The world slows down as it comprehends this foreign feeling of… safety. That’s what it is.
You’re safe.
He slows his own shaky breaths, pressing his chest to yours, and soon enough, once you can’t take the pressure anymore, you breathe. You follow his lead, a slow in and out, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Can we go inside, princess?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. His voice is steadier now, with you against him, safe as he holds you. He’s here now, his voice says, the tension in his arms. He’s got you.
You nod against him, and you don’t protest when he picks you up gently under your knees, holding your torso to his still, doing his best not to jostle you as he stands. He brings you inside, shutting the glass behind him with his evol, and you can feel him relax slightly once he no longer has to hold the rain in place around you.
He sets you down on the sofa, and watches you curl in on yourself, afraid of the open space, but afraid of being closed in all the same. He sits down opposite from you, and opens his arms, letting you situate yourself so that you don’t somehow set off again.
You press your chest to his, burying your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling like he’s your oxygen and you’ve been suffocating for hours. It’s close enough to the truth. He runs his fingers through your hair, keeping his lips against the crown of your head until he parts to say something.
“I didn’t know my surprise visit was going to shock you this much, Pips,” he huffs out an attempt at a laugh that turns real the moment you press your lips to his skin where you’re nestled.
“I’m sorry,” You say it against his skin, and you feel goose flesh rise in the wake of your lips moving there. The vibrations of his responding hum pulls you even further into the lull of comfort that his presence allows you.
“Hmm… nope!” He begins to run his hands over your shoulders, and you tense, ready for your body to give the fight or flight reaction, but it never comes. His hands are warm, and it soothes your shivering a bit. When did you start shivering?
“What do you mean, nope,” you respond with a futile attempt at feigned irritation.
He laughs again, and god why does it carry so much affection, how dare he have the audacity to make you feel human, after you’ve only been treated like an object for as long as you can remember.
Experiments. Hands. Skin.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, baby.” He kisses your temple as he speaks, holding you a little tighter like it’ll convince you he’s telling the truth.
“I’m glad you’re back,” you finally manage, giving him a genuine smile, even though your eyes and nose burn and your skin feels raw. He beams at the sight anyways, even though you’re sure you look a mess.
He presses a kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “me too.”
He reaches off to the side, stretching as far as he can before he sighs and you hear the scraping of his evol bringing a bag within his reach. He fumbles for a bit with it and you slowly reach up to peer over the sofa, but before you get there, he’s sitting back up with one of his hoodies clutched tight in his hand.
You stare at him for a second with wide eyes, not wanting to assume he grabbed it for you, but you can hope. Looking info your eyes, he bundles it up to bring it over your head, and you finish putting it on, his warmth and scent surrounding you.
“Your turn,” you say as you dart forward to reach for the bag as well, halfway over the sofa to reach it, and you grab a sweatshirt he packed for himself.
As he shrugs out of his jacket, he takes your offering gratefully, nudging you as he does so, “Why thank you, my lady.” You grin at him, and then wrap your arms tight around his chest.
“Oomph, okay, okay I’ve got you, Pips.” He rocks back and forth slightly, letting you warm up before asking anything of you.
“It was them again.” As your muffled words reach him, he stops moving, instead opting for running his hand through your hair again. He doesn’t say anything, lets you go at your pace.
“Their hands. Their.. taste.” Your voice breaks, and his hand slows to a stop as well. You sit there for a second, and you realize he’s holding his breath.
“I hate them. I hate them, I hate them, I hate them I hate them I hate them-“ you’re crying again, sobbing into his shirt and hands trying to find your wrists, but he’s quick to hold your hands in his own. Not forceful, but making sure you’re not making it to your skin.
“Me too pipsqueak.” His voice is low.
“Caleb it hurts so fucking bad. So bad.” You sniffle as you look up at him, voice high as you try not to cry more. You let his hands hold you in safety.
“I know, Princess,” his eyes flash with something dangerous, and he kisses your knuckles, staring ahead.
“And sometimes I wish they felt the pain they put me through, because it just makes me so angry that I can’t carry all of it in my heart-“ you’re cut off by Caleb’s hands cradling your face, thumbs over your cheeks. They’re cool from how flushed you’ve become, and you pout at him.
“Don’t worry Pipsqueak, they’ll be dealt with.” His face stays straight, not a whisper of amusement in his words.
You could question it, ask just how that might happen, what the universe might do to those that offset their karma, but you don’t. You let your eyes slide closed, and it soothes the way they burn. Your head hangs forward, letting him support you, and you hope the universe doesn’t hear you as you whisper for only Caleb to hear, “Just let me witness it.”
He lifts your head gently with his finger at your chin, looking at your lips as he whispers, “Can I, Pips?”
You nod, and his lips find yours. You let him wash away every other marker that was left there, you let his mouth claim you as his, and nobody else’s, and the hold he has on you tightens enough to ground you, and not the slightest bit more.
“Caleb?” You pull apart to mumble the question against his lips, and he hums a questioning reply, affection-hazy.
“Thank you,” you sigh.
His eyes find yours, dark, full of devotion for you and only you, and he answers, “Don’t thank me yet, Princess. Not until they’ve paid their dues.”