if it falls, I would hold on for all it's worth.

Got a bag full of clothes, a bottle of wine. Only say how I feel From the back of my mind

Everest hums softly at the idea of a carpentry stall, eyes flicking to Isla as she eats a blackberry with a kind of nonchalance he could never manage around such mess-prone fruit. His gaze lingers on her mouth for half a second longer than intended before snapping back to the spread between them. "That could be useful," he says, clearing his throat. "For gathering samples. Texture. Grain. Responsiveness to tools and pressure."

Her suggestion of narrowing down the usable space in her apartment earns a contemplative silence. He taps a corner of the fig container once, then again. "That would help," he admits. "Maybe we could even practice navigating the space before the date begins." There’s a brief beat, as if he’s realized how that sounds, before he lifts his glass again. "Experiment, I mean." His tone is half-apologetic, half-wry.

Then she says it. I will be your constant for as long as you will have me.

The words hit like sunlight through water. Ever stills—completely. Even his fingers stop their quiet percussion. He looks at her, really looks, and some quiet part of him shudders beneath the weight of how easily she says it. His throat works once in a swallow before he sets his glass carefully down, and when he reaches out this time, it’s not to adjust the food or straighten a corner.

It’s to take her hand. "I never like how it sounds, to think of you being something to have, but.." he says, softly but without hesitation. "If that’s an offer—then yes. I’ll have you."

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

"That was my thinking as well. Perhaps you could even create a sample board for yourself. Wood from different trees, notes on how they might be used, what their properties are best suited towards..." As hobbies go, it sounds absolutely perfect for a couple of nerds, and given that they have already agreed to multiple dates experiments, Isla doesn't mind dedicating an afternoon to Ever's strong instincts, even if she desperately has to keep any off-colour jokes to herself.

Nodding her agreement and reaching for another blackberry, her fingers accidentally brush against the aviator's as they linger at the edge of the container, but it might as well be deliberate for the way even the brief, warm contact sends a quiet thrill through her. "Terminology aside, I think that's a good plan. In terms of pure logistics, there are more resources in that space as well." Places to sit, utentils for cooking and eating, blankets, lighting and so on.

Sensing, almost instinctively, the way Ever has gone still and quiet, Isla's lips part to ask if he's alright when he's suddenly reaching out to take her hand, the gesture as simple as it is enormous. "It never seems to bad to me, if you're the one doing the having," she says softly. "And it's not just an offer - it's a promise." She squeezes his fingers gently. "I might have only been on a date with this version of you for an hour, but I already feel like I know you quite well. I hope that isn't too forward of me to say."

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Got a bag full of clothes, a bottle of wine. Only say how I feel From the back of my mind

Everest considers Isla’s words—the sample board, the textures, the notes—and something in his chest unfurls just a little. What had once felt like a looming inconvenience, another variable to catalogue and manage and fold into the rest of his already crowded mind, now slots neatly into place. Framed the way she puts it, it becomes a task with parameters. Predictable. Constructive. Maybe even satisfying. His fingers tap once against her palm, light and unthinking.

"You make it seem so simple," he murmurs, blinking down at the joined space between their hands like it’s something worth memorizing. "That helps."

And then she’s squeezing his fingers and speaking of promises, of knowing him—and whether or not she should say that, whether or not she’s right—his mind can’t conjure an argument. The version of him she’s referring to may be recent, but it feels less like something new and more like someone who’s been trying to surface for a long time.

So he shifts—minutely. The space between them hasn’t changed, but something inside him does. His fingers flinch against hers, not pulling away but tightening ever so slightly, and his breath slips in a little too sharply before he recovers it. He looks at her, truly looks, and though the lighting is soft and the breeze smells faintly of sea salt and fruit, there's nothing casual about the way he holds her gaze.

"Would it be alright," he whispers, voice just barely above the hush of the waves behind them, "if I kissed you?" Not because he doesn’t know the answer—but because asking is part of who he is. Because asking means she'll know he's sure.

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

"Even the most complex of tasks can be made simple if you break it down into manageable pieces," Isla says cheerfully, with an air of knowing from experience. Which of course Ever would also be aware of given her profession, her personality, the things they've already experienced together and the problems they've worked through, even if his personality had been much more loose than it is now.

Letting her thumb brush across the back of his hand, though the aviator might not move much if at all, Isla certainly feels the sudden weight of his gaze, the way it's more than, and though she wants to glance away at being so seen, she doesn't. Indeed, when the question she's been hoping for finally spills from his lips, she's already nodding. "I would really like that, yes," she tells him, setting down her wine glass and turning to face him properly on the blanket.

"It would be alright if you kissed me, if you touched me, if you do anything you think feels right," she adds, because the gods know that kissing and holding hands is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the things she wants.

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Got a bag full of clothes, a bottle of wine. Only say how I feel From the back of my mind

Everest nods once, his breath catching softly in the pause between her words and the weight of their meaning. Anything you think feels right. That would’ve terrified him, once—trying to measure rightness in a body that rarely seemed to speak the same language as those around it. But with Isla, so much of that fear is blunted, dulled like the clatter of sound under water.

He tries, instinctively, to take stock. To calculate angle, distance, the best placement of hands. But something in him releases—like the cork from the bottle earlier, clean and sudden—and everything else just...quietly falls away.

His hand rises slowly, reverently, fingertips brushing against the softness of her cheek. There’s a feather-light pause as if he means to stay there, to just touch her, but then his palm slides further back into her hair. It curls around his fingers like it remembers him as he tugs her closer. He leans in, the kiss not rushed but inevitable, and when their mouths meet, it’s gentle at first, almost searching—until it isn’t. The moment their lips catch, the physicality of it becomes total, electric, grounding. The usual buzz of variables and internal self-checks fades completely, like someone dimmed the lights on the world outside her skin.

He moves as if led by instinct and memory both, coaxing her into the kiss rather than pressing into it. His free hand comes down to brace against the blanket, subtly shifting them so that she might tip toward him rather than backward, the sweep of her dress spared the grass and sand in favour of his linen shirt.

And it’s good; gods, it’s good how quiet his mind is. No spiralling, no static. Just Isla. Just the press of her lips and the warmth of her body, the soft shape of her sigh and the scent of her skin, and the way the feel of her against him has everything else fading further and further away.

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

To say that Isla has been waiting for this since that fateful afternoon on the beach is no understatement. Even at Ever's worst, even knowing it would have been selfish and damaging for the both of them, she's wanted it. Wanted to kiss apologies across his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose, wanted to kiss better any emotional wounds she might have caused, wanted to feel his lips against her own like she's offering a prayer at a shrine.

And when it comes, the Remedy all but tumbles into it, needing very little coaxing from his hands and mouth to find herself in the exact place she's been craving this entire time. Her lips are soft but insistent, one of her arms looping around his broad shoulders to clasp him close, the other slipping gently through the back of his curls, as if the memory of it is no longer enough. Their bodies know each other better than their minds at this point, though she doubts it will take long for them to catch up - she hopes not, anyway.

Drawing back only a fraction when the need to breathe becomes more necessity than suggestion, Isla basks in the warmth of him, the soft feel of linen beneath her fingers, the way Ever's kisses feel more familiar than they have any right to. "I have missed doing that with you," she confesses, all flushed cheeks and a smile that's trying to run away with itself.

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Got a bag full of clothes, a bottle of wine. Only say how I feel From the back of my mind

Everest doesn’t remember the exact moment instinct took over, only that by the time Isla’s lips moved with his, all thought had dropped away like old scaffolding. There was no calculating the angle, no mental tally of time elapsed. Just heat. Just her. The taste of her mouth sweetened by berries and wine, the press of her body against his like a memory returning to itself.

His fingers flex in her hair reverently. His other hand finds her hip and stays there, not pulling, not yet—just there, as if to mark that this is real. And it is. She’s not a recollection or a wish. She’s here, and she wants him, and his body knows it before his mind can.

When she draws back, he blinks like someone surfacing from depth, his breath catching in the space between their mouths. She looks flushed and radiant and just slightly smug and Ever’s certain his own face is flushed for entirely different reasons. He’s...surprised. And maybe a little dazed. But certainly not unhappy.

His fingers remain at her waist, not quite letting her go.

"I didn’t pack anything perishable," he murmurs, voice low and dry with the hint of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Nothing that can’t handle being unattended in the heat." His thumb rubs softly against her side. "So if you wanted to... continue," a glance at her mouth again, then her eyes, "The food wouldn't suffer for it."

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

Smiling, even at the first words that slip past Ever's lips, as if she already knows what else he's going to say, Isla's fingers smooth affectionately through the back of his hair, her body both seeming to tense and relax beneath the warm weight of his hands. "See," she says, as if nothing around them being perishable is something he'd also considered beforehand, "I told you that everything about this seemed perfect."

The laugh that chimes the air between them is cut off voluntarily as Isla leans in to close the space between them once more, the Remedy relaxing further into Ever's lap and taking every opportunity she can to reacquaint herself with the taste of his mouth and the way his body feels beneath her own. "Yes," she adds, albeit as a brief afterthought, in case the aviator needs more solid confirmation, "I would very much like to continue."

She already is, on that note, Isla melting flush against him and letting the hand in his hair drop to smooth down his chest, as if to memorise every part of him she can get hold of.

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Got a bag full of clothes, a bottle of wine. Only say how I feel From the back of my mind

Her confirmation floods through him like a tide, and for a moment Everest forgets what hesitation even feels like. His hand slips from her hair—reluctantly—to brace against the blanket behind him, the subtle shift in weight inviting her to drape more fully across him.
The next kiss deepens without thought or calculation, his mouth moving with growing confidence against hers. No longer tentative or unsure, his tongue sweeps with quiet intent, tasting the wine still lingering on her tongue as his other hand flexes at her hip, holding her closer with a certainty that borders on possessive. Not rough. Never that, though he has been schooled in what it means and when it's useful.

The heat curling through him now has little to do with the sun overhead and everything to do with the feeling of her body, with the delicate drag of her fingers down his chest. He feels her through the layers between them, too much and not nearly enough. And though there’s still the framework of Ever—his carefulness, his sharp lines—those pieces are melting fast beneath Isla’s hands and mouth, softening into something far more guided by feeling than thought.

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

Moving only as she's invited, as she feels Ever lean back, Isla absolutely does drape herself against him, barely resisting the urge to climb into his lap completely. But she'll take his lead in this, however much it feels as though they're increasingly of the same reckless mindset when it comes to making out on the beach. Her fingers starburst out against his chest, relishing the heat rolling off his body and that of the sun overhead, warming her to a delicious inferno from within as much as without.

Parting from Ever with a soft gasp only as she realises her fingers are already wanting to stray lower, Isla offers him a sheepish smile and presses another chaste kiss against his lips. "What do you think?" she whispers, pulling back enough to peer down at him properly. "Do we still align? I know it is only the first experiment, and there are probably a lot more variables we haven't considered, but I would say that the initial findings are promising."

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Got a bag full of clothes, a bottle of wine. Only say how I feel From the back of my mind

Ever’s eyes flutter open as she pulls back, the flush across his cheeks and throat undeniable, his chest rising a touch too fast beneath her splayed fingers. He looks at her like she’s the only thing in his field of vision—like he’s seeing her not for the first time, but as the only thing he ever wants to see.

Her words draw a low, surprised breath from him, one that hitches at the edges of a laugh. "We align," he says, voice rougher than before, reverent and a little dazed. "I’d even say the hypothesis was too conservative."

One hand lifts to gently tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering at her jaw. "I didn’t anticipate how...easy this would feel. That probably means I’ve overlooked a variable." He blinks, glancing down where her body fits over his, then back to her with a crooked smile. "Or maybe it means I’ve just found the constant I needed." His thumb strokes gently along her jaw. "I’ll still want to run more tests in the following days, though," he adds with a shrug. "Just to be sure."

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

Huffing out a laugh as well, Isla hasn't realised how much she's wanted to hear something as simple as what is essentially yeah, we still like each other, but it's enough to almost have tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Blinking them quickly away, she leans in to press a quick kiss to his flushed cheeks, leaning into the brush of his fingers against her jaw. "I'm glad you agree. And it's never a bad thing, to be surprised by your own experiments," she points out.

"Perhaps you just underestimated yourself," she says, of one of the potential variables he's overlooked. "You're getting to know this version of you as much as I am, after all. For what it's worth, I'm glad. And it does feel easy - more than easy. It feels the way it always did." Because apparently whatever flavour of Everest Hart he chooses to present to her, they are apparently all Isla's type.

"Of course," she says with a smile that hints towards mischief, turning to plant a kiss against the inside of his wrist. "It's always important to be thorough about these things." She might have also said it was important not to rush into them, regardless of the initial data, but that would make Isla a liar when it comes to what she wants.

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Got a bag full of clothes, a bottle of wine. Only say how I feel From the back of my mind

Everest hums low in his throat, a soft, pleased sound that vibrates faintly where her lips find the inside of his wrist. His fingers curl gently, instinctively, as if trying to catch the kiss and keep it there. She’s his type, too—every version of her, every shift in tone or touch, every microexpression he catalogues without meaning to. And for once, the flood of input doesn’t overwhelm. It just is.

"I’ve never been particularly good at accounting for emotional bias," he murmurs, his hand slipping down from her jaw to rest lightly against her collarbone, the pad of his thumb brushing just beneath it. "You skew the results. Every time."

Still, the idea that they’ve landed somewhere so familiar so fast seems to settle into him like gravity, pulling him deeper into the moment, into her. "I can feel the similarities to how it felt before," he admits, gaze locked to hers. "But it's better now, I think. There's nothing..purple to interfere."

Isla

to share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering

"Nobody's perfect," Isla says with a soft smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "For my part, though, I've never been so happy to be the problem in someone else's test framework." Laughing and pressing another kiss against the inside of his wrist, she leans into the way his fingers curl before drawing back to let his hand drift wherever it pleases. Everest can spend the afternoon exploring her if that's what would make him happy, so long as Isla can explore as well in turn.

Relaxing further against him and simultaneously enjoying and trying not to enjoy it too much, the way their bodies so effortlessly fit together, Isla eventually shifts ever so slightly to rest her head against his shoulder, smoothing out an invisible crease in his linen shirt. "Good," she says emphatically about the lack of purple in his thoughts. "That means all of this is just you, now. You can trust it to be real; it's not caused by anything external. These feelings are all yours."

fighting off like all creation, the absence of itself

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!