Doves and Peacocks

Teatime

Aleigh wasn’t entirely sure how to respond when Ruthenia suddenly chose to lean her head against his shoulder.

He had been writing, and she, contending with her boss’ horrendous lunch. Then she had crossed her legs on the seat, as she liked to, and sagged against him, head on his shoulder, their arms pressed together, and then she’d continued eating as if she’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

At once he had gone motionless--was this how the common people expressed friendly sentiments? Was this how Ruthenia expressed friendly sentiments? Whatever the case, Aleigh was not at all prepared to respond--because this much touch, this much intimacy was reserved for attached couples. And an attached couple they were not.

And it was doing terrible things to him. Such as inspiring in him a burning desire to reciprocate the gesture. Or to imagine they were an attached couple.

He hasn't expected to like the idea this much.

Ihir, he wanted to reach out and hold her close and kiss the top of her head and--

Shaking his head to clear this horrifying--and horrifyingly delightful--string of thoughts, Aleigh lifted his pen again to continue writing--but never got further than the first word.

He cleared his throat. “Ruthenia,” he said.

“Yes?” She straightened, lifting her head from his shoulder, and his heart sank with disappointment as her warmth disappeared.

He tried not to lean towards her. “I appreciate your company,” he said.

She laughed. A different sort of laugh. “Hey, I like yours too,” she replied, clapping him on the shoulder, more gently than usual. “That's why I'm here.”

He blinked and revelled in the warmth of her touch, although it wasn’t long before her hand lifted and he found himself wanting to feel it again.

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