when you're in a hurricane

I think I can manage being collateral damage

Ever’s grip eases the moment he feels Isla’s fingers on his hand, a silent prompt he doesn’t need words to understand. His arms slip from around her slowly, reluctantly, as if his body hasn’t quite caught up with what’s just happened—what they’ve just done. He exhales a ragged breath into the space she leaves behind, then lowers his head for a moment, steadying himself against the low thrum still buzzing in his limbs.

By the time she’s on her feet, adjusting her dress with practiced grace, Ever is only just managing to reach for the waistband of his trousers, tucking himself back in with shaky fingers. He doesn’t speak, but only blinks up at Isla as she turns to face him, gaze caught in the glow of her flush, the tilt of her hair, the sly confidence she wears even in the aftermath.

When she lifts the outfit and declares it hers, Ever’s brows lift slightly before he nods—soft, reverent, entirely adoring. He looks thoroughly dishevelled, guilt and bliss tangled across his face like smoke, and he waits until Isla gives even the faintest signal that she’s ready before carefully parting the curtain. Clearing his throat, voice hoarse with the effort of normalcy, he addresses the merchant without quite meeting his eyes. "We’ll take the one she tried on."

.

ISLA

Luckily for Everest, the merchant has eyes in his head, and so he mistakes the flush on his cheeks as just having seen and assisted with Isla's outfit. Nodding amicably, the Remedy also offers him a smile and passes the dress out for him to package for them. In the meantime she carefully draws the curtain to the side, freeing up the changing room again (having replaced all of the little decorative knick-knacks and whatnot so it doesn't look so obviously fucked-in). 

"Thanks. I couldn't have done that without you." Smiling affectionately (and a bit cheekily) up at Ever, Isla leans up to leave a soft, slow kiss against his lips - mostly chase, but with enough lingering heat to suggest that she'd very much like to meet him again in such circumstances. Smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle in his shirt, she steps out of the room and heads over to the merchant's counter to pay for her new outfit.

"Shall we stop and get some lunch before we keep going?" she suggests to the aviator. "Give us a chance to sit and catch our breath?"

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

I think I can manage being collateral damage

Ever’s smile tugs crooked at the corners as Isla leans in—wry, still dazed, and more than a little twitterpated. His breath catches the moment her lips graze his, the soft heat of it reigniting the ache he’s only just begun to recover from. [sy]"That seems...statistically unlikely," he murmurs against her mouth, his voice still hoarse with want. "That I’ll catch my breath, I mean. Not with you. Not after...that."

He doesn’t bother trying to hide the way his gaze lingers as she steps away. Swallowing hard, he blinks a few times to reassemble himself, then extends his hand toward her, lacing his fingers with hers as naturally as if they hadn’t just fucked in a changing room under cover of linen and sheer chaos. 

"Lunch," ” he agrees at last, guiding her gently away from the stall. "Preferably somewhere with cold drinks. And no mirrors." The words are dry, but his thumb brushes over hers with all the sweetness of a promise not yet spent, his steps already carrying them toward the next quiet place to catch their breath—or try to.

~FIN

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