Chapter Text
His knees were hammocked in hers, chest warm on her back, his hand splayed and resting on her stomach. Not the firm stomach of her youth, but he didn’t seem to mind, his hum of contentment becoming a crescendo of appreciation in the musical score of her life. Their apartment was already filled with papers, schematics, and plans to bring new technologies to the Alcântara spaceport. But, before getting up, before getting out of bed to prepare for another day of fumbling in Portuguese and finding comfort in familiar math and an oh-so-familiar man, there was his hand, no longer resting but sliding downward … lower … lower … slip-sliding between her legs, careful not to put pressure on her bad hip. And in her not-firm-anymore stomach there was a blossoming of the closest she may have ever felt to pure joy.