She liked the way he kissed her. One hand brushing back her long blond hair. Starring at his hand in a sort of disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe she would let him touch her like this. Like he was marveling about the contrast in colors.
He was artsy like that.
He would curl his hand around her neck, and leave it there for a moment, stroking the fine hairs that scattered about the back of her neck. He would catch her eyes and sigh as he leaned in- he never pulled her towards him, never demanded a thing from her. Ever.
He kissed her like he painted.
To him she was a work of art and Lavender fell in love with Dean and the way he kissed her. The way he treated her, the way he looked at her. Then she started to love the sound of his voice, the soccer posters above his bed, the ink splatters on the floor.
She liked to tell people that they were picture perfect, because Dean painted them that way.
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Date: 2007-06-01 03:17 am (UTC)She liked the way he kissed her. One hand brushing back her long blond hair. Starring at his hand in a sort of disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe she would let him touch her like this. Like he was marveling about the contrast in colors.
He was artsy like that.
He would curl his hand around her neck, and leave it there for a moment, stroking the fine hairs that scattered about the back of her neck. He would catch her eyes and sigh as he leaned in- he never pulled her towards him, never demanded a thing from her. Ever.
He kissed her like he painted.
To him she was a work of art and Lavender fell in love with Dean and the way he kissed her. The way he treated her, the way he looked at her. Then she started to love the sound of his voice, the soccer posters above his bed, the ink splatters on the floor.
She liked to tell people that they were picture perfect, because Dean painted them that way.