We never really needed words, not when we were like this. Sitting side by side in the crow’s nest, companionable silence accompanied by the gentle slaps of waves against the Going Merry’s hull.
On particularly frigid nights I’d climb up here after the others turned in, heavy blanket slung over my shoulder ‘cause I knew you were too stubborn to bring one for yourself. You’d scowl at me, faux annoyance not quite reaching your eyes, just before I chucked the heavy wool at your stupid marimo head.
Your floundering inspired clean, pure laughter from me, the kind I rarely let others hear. I’d be on the verge of tears when you emerged, grabbing my pant leg and sending me tumbling haphazardly across your lap. Then the tables would turn as I went nose-to-nose with you and growled, your own deep chuckles pealing softly over me.
That’s when you’d gather me in your strong arms as if I weighed nothing and settle me between your legs. Any anger I pretended to have melts away as I’d lean back into your broad chest. You’d drape the blanket over us both before your arms wound possessively around my waist.
I’d turn to look at you then, neck craned slightly as I watched you watching me. It was during times like this that I still found myself in wonder of what we’d found; the love we rarely expressed verbally overflowed into our actions during these quiet moments of solitude. We’d drop most of the caustic front we kept in front of the others, and I’d treasure the soft smiles and quiet laughter that you saved only for me.
You’d let one of those smiles touch your mouth just then, deep emerald eyes on my own as you moved in to press your lips to mine in a soft kiss.
Moments like this really are too perfect for words.