a continuation of sorts of the Twelve days of Christmas story arc.

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She knew every inch of her lover’s body now. Knew where he was ticklish, where he was soft and where he was hard. She knew every scar and some of the stories that went with them. Some stories she might never hear, but that was alright. She knew he had trouble talkin’ ‘bout some things.

She knew he slept like the dead and snored when he was tired. She knew he woke up grumpy, and the only thing that soothed him was her.

She knew and understood now why Wash was always anxious when his lover was out on a job. She knew it because she felt the same, the cripplin’ anxiety all the time he was gone, the terror that he might not come back at all.

She knew the overwhelming sense of joyfulness when he did come back, arms wrappin’ round her, holding her close. She knew the fear and worry when he was injured and the chokin’ happiness when he opened his eyes.

She knew the expressions on his face, an open book to her, expressionless to others. She knew when he was hidin’ somethin’ from her, when he was concentratin’, when he was lustin’ after her, lovin’ her.

She knew he got hungry after sex, after a fight, after exercise, anytime really. She knew he would eat anythin’ put in front of him, especially if she cooked it.

She knew the sound of his voice. The growl that meant he was tired and impatient, the snarl that meant he was angry, the quiet deadly killin’ tone that meant trouble ahead. She knew the harsh and anxious voice when she was hurtin’, the tender voice when he was comfortin’ her. She knew the groan when he was needin’ her and the big cat purr when he was satisfied.

She knew the professionalism he bought to his job. The care he took of his weapons, his enjoyment of a fight with weapons or fists. She knew his skill in huntin’ and trackin’ and the pride he took in doin’ them well.

She knew he was slow ‘bout some things and quick ‘bout others. She knew his frustration when he got stuff wrong, his sheer exasperatin’ stubbornness, and that sometimes he was argumentative and obnoxious. And she knew that the make-up sex was always wonderful.

She knew the feel of his calloused hands and soft lips on her skin. She knew his frowns, his grins and his smiles. She knew the cold look in his blue eyes when he was angry and the hot look when he was tense with desire.

She knew that these days his selfishness was all for her that he earned coin for her, he survived for her. She knew he would lie, cheat, steal and kill for her. Die for her.

She knew so much ‘bout him, her lover, her best friend, her zhang fu. But she didn’t know how he was goin’ to react to her news.

Oh she knew that he had thought ‘bout it, they both had. But now the reality was here how would he feel? She didn’t know how she felt. Was she happy, scared, glad or nervous?

She knew that everythin’ was alright when he smiled and tenderly stroked her hair. She knew that when he pulled her close and hugged her so tight that he was glad … and so was she.

She knew when he lifted her in the air and pressed hot kisses on her stomach that he was happy … And so was she.

Zhang fu = husband