Chapter Text
April, 2021.
A year had come and gone since the virus had made the world stop turning. Twelve long, eventful and exhausting months until Chastain found some sense of normalcy once again. Nurse Hundley had taken a miraculous turn for the better, and in due time she was back doing what she did best, caring for others. Kit had a similar fate, the spots on her lungs disappearing as rapidly as they had emerged. Within days she was cleared to go home, a week later and she returned to work.
However, Bell knew better than to blindly believe that this whole ordeal had not taken a toll on her. Today in particular, he had devoted extra time to keep an eye on his friend, seeing as exactly a year ago she had been checked into the hospital. Kit was unusually quiet for the duration of her shift, mostly keeping to herself, even during breaks. The fact that, throughout the day, she had not once barged into his office unannounced was more than enough to alarm him.
By nightfall, he decided to quit on the observer role and take action. Next thing he knew, he had driven halfway across town. The ever so precise hands that could easily repair arteries, now trembled at the steering wheel as he parked the car outside her suburban home. As soon as he made it to the door, the idea of paying her an unexpected visit felt downright stupid. But in all honesty, there was no way he could lie his head on the pillow tonight and sleep while his concerns for her were so heightened.
And so, wearing his heart on his sleeve, Bell knocked on the door.
“Hey,” Kit’s expression reflected her surprise.
“Hi there,” he greeted her nervously. “You okay?”
A small nod was all he got in return.
“Good, good,” he frowned, slightly panicking as he chose his next words. “It’s just that today has marked a year…” Bell took a deep breath. “Since you were… A-and I just wanted to make sure you’re fine. Not that it’s any of my business, but… But I thought you might just not want to be alone.”
She blinked rapidly at him more times than she could count. The fact that he even remembered what today meant left her amused. Not to mention that he had driven all the way over just to check on her.
“Come in,” she gifted him with a warm smile and stepped back so he could enter her home.
--
Kit politely declined the suggestion of grabbing dinner somewhere, instead, she opted to pour them both a glass of the finest red wine she had. It was one of those days where the perspective of leaving the house did not sound appealing at all. As thrilled as she was to be back on her feet after battling that insidious disease, this date also served as a reminder of all the suffering she both endured and witnessed firsthand in the line of duty. How can anyone ever be the same after that?
Sensing her momentary detachment from reality, Bell decided to rely on the silly plan he had concocted as an excuse to reach out to her. In a snap of fingers he went over to the car and made his way back inside the house. She did not fail to notice that he hid one of his hands behind him.
“I got a surprise for you,” he smiled foolishly, in an attempt to lighten up the rather somber mood.
She cocked an eyebrow at him, suspiciously. More than anything, she was curious in regards to whatever he was concealing. Fortunately, Bell took the cue sooner than later, only to reveal a small, round speaker. He moved to place it over the dinner table, and watched as the brunette’s eyes widened in confusion.
“Where did you get that?”
“Grayson,” his reply was followed by a nonchalant shrug.
He pulled the cellphone out of his pocket, unlocked it and proceeded to spend a solid minute following his former assistant’s instructions to connect it with the speaker. Admittedly, he was hardly tech-savvy.
“Also, he showed me how to do this,” with a tap on the screen, a song began playing. Its uptempo beat quickly filled the room.
“What’s that all about?” Kit flashed him a puzzled glare.
“Sticking to my promise,” he frowned. “Kinda.”
Bell then placed the phone on the table too and took a step closer. He offered her his hand, in an old-fashioned gesture that she understood in a split of second. She accepted his wordless invitation, allowing him to lead her to the mostly empty space connecting the kitchen to the living room. His arm respectfully wrapped around her waist as her hand rested on his shoulder. Soon they were stepping from side to side, accompanying the rhythm of the mambo that played in the back.
“I know I told you we’d go out to dance. But you see, after botching every dance move known to man at Conrad and Nic’s wedding, I realized the world isn’t quite ready for me yet.”
In an action that betrayed his words, he spun her around. She giggled in return, inadvertently filling the man’s heart with utter joy.
“You’ve gotten a lot better, I’d say,” she nodded at him, denoting how impressive his improvement was. “Not stepping on my toes as much.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Bell curled his lips in a confident grin.
“How many classes did you take?” Kit threw the metaphorical bucket of cold water on his cocky fascade, it was all in good fun, though.
“Two,” he replied, but her knitted brows signalled she was just not having it. “...Months.”
“Sounds more like it,” she let out an honest laughter, a first in what seemed like a long time. Even more than that, the gesture was more than plenty to set butterflies all over her dance partner’s stomach.
“Get ready for the dip,” he warned, aware that the song was about to end.
“The wha–” her concerns were cut short as Bell went for it.
He lowered her body as far as his arms allowed him, only to pull her up in a swift, slightly clumsy motion. Although Kit was caught off guard at first, the cheerful expressions stamped on her face as she was brought back up revealed her delight at the unexpected move. Out of habit more than anything, the brunette playfully punched at his arm, just as the last notes of the track played.
Soon, a new song started, much slower than the mambo they had danced. Kit did not recognize it, however, judging by the melodic piano line and the sorrowful mood, she could place the tune in the early 1960s. It surprised her that he would have something like that on his playlist, but then again, she had yet to fully unravel the mystery that was Randolph Bell.
“One more?”
“Sure, but they didn’t teach me how to dance to Patsy Cline in class,” he ran a hand through his hair, demonstrating a sudden nervousness at her suggestion.
“It figures,” her eyes rolled in feigned annoyance. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it.”
Kit spun around and made a beeline to the kitchen table in order to retrieve his phone. She made a mental note to search that name when she had the chance, and then proceeded to restart the song.
As she approached him once again, her hand reached out to his. She pulled her friend closer, even more so than during the previous dance. Bell froze momentarily once he became painfully aware of her body pressing against his. She locked eyes with him, as if seeking reassurance to continue. He complied with a nod, and swallowed hard as she leaned just a tad closer. They were essentially cheek to cheek now.
“Just feel the music,” her slightly broken voice found its way to his ear. It was clear she had been affected by this more personal arrangement as well. “Follow your instincts, okay?”
“Okay,” he replied, marvelled at their newfound proximity.
From the second they began swaying, Bell was lost. If heaven was real, he had just found it in her arms. Holding her felt finer than anything he had dared to envision in wistful dreams before. The sweet scent of her hair invaded his nose, fogging his mind and rendering him utterly intoxicated. Her racing heart pounded against his chest, echoing his own heartbeat. Oh, how he wished he could make the world stop turning so they could be like this forever.
“That’s good,” she whispered in encouragement.
His reply came in the form of a soft hum in approval, which was more than plenty to raise goosebumps all over her figure. The feeling of his hand on the small of her back was almost overwhelming, especially considering how his thumb absentmindedly stroked invisible circles on the area. Breathing soon became a laborious task for Kit, out of pure immersion in their intimate moment. It was curious to think only a year ago she had experienced something similar, although in extremely diverse conditions.
That train of thought was cut short when she heard some sort of mumble floating in the air. The brunette knitted her eyebrows as she tried to make sense of what the sound was. Sooner rather than later, she reckoned it was him muttering along to the lyrics of the tune playing. Her own bewilderment at the situation caused her head to turn to the side.
“Are you singing?” Kit beamed, taken aback in the most pleasant of ways.
With his eyelids shut tight, Bell offered her a sheepish grin as he got caught. Both his cheeks and the tips of his ears tinged pink in a timid reflex. The sight alone was enough to make her heart flutter with furor, there was something particularly endearing about seeing him like this, stripped from his serious surgeon demeanor. She let go of his hand, driven by a hasty urge to let her fingertips brush up the side of his neck.
Finally, he opened his eyes and flashed her a puzzled look. Words failed to leave his mouth as he acknowledged the way she gazed at him, for it was dazzling enough to make his knees weak. And although he knew what was bound to happen, he could hardly believe it as she slightly tilted her head. Kit’s face moved towards his in an achingly slow manner. She halted briefly once they were close enough to breathe the same air, only to examine his reaction. When he failed to move away, she closed the gap between them. At last, their lips met in a tender, loving kiss that reflected three years of bottled up emotions and wasted opportunities.
She pulled back eventually, only to rest her forehead against his as they continued to gently sway. A couple songs played as they remained like that, enraptured in each other and their now impeccable synchrony. None of them dared to speak, there was no need to ruin anything with contrite sentences or apologies. After all they have been through, it seemed as if the duo was ultimately on the same page.
In a rather humorous twist of fate, the streak of love songs was interrupted by an upbeat tune. Bell remorsefully disengaged from his partner in order to fix this, and made his way to the phone once again.
“Sorry about this,” his eyes were focused on the screen as he combed through countless tracks in search of the perfect one.
Kit watched him from across the room; his face was flushed and a faint trace of panting was still detectable. Knowing she had that effect on him was exhilarating.
When he glared at her, she was moving towards him. The look in her eyes signalled she was not so keen on dancing anymore. Before he even had time to process this turn of events, she took the phone away from him, placing it back on the table. Kit smirked before she captured his lips in another kiss, this time, far deeper and steamier than the previous one.
--
Drawing parallels was inevitable.
A year ago and Bell saw her confined to a hospital bed, fighting what turned out to be the greatest threat of modern times. A rush of fear accompanied him as he witnessed firsthand how her health slowly decayed. The uneven beeping of the machines hooked to her haunted him to this day.
Tonight, however, he watched as Kit slept on his chest. The steady rhythm in which she inhaled and exhaled was perhaps the most soothing sound he had heard to date. Frankly, he had never felt so at peace as he did now that his fingers twirled around locks of her caramel hair.
In addition to that, there was also the fact that he could not, for the life of him, wipe the smirk off his face.