The wind howled mercilessly outside. It tossed itself against the house's many windows over and over like a runaway looking for refuge.
A few doors over, the rhythmic sound of Quinn's breathing could be heard throughout his room. Every now and then a fluffy grey tail would sweep across his face. Gilbert's throaty purrs sounded from directly next to his nose.
From inside a blue door just across the hall Jenny could be heard tossing and turning. Her face looked a thousand years younger asleep. Unlined, unconcerned, unworried. Blond hair in a tight French braid against her head, there was no lack of order in her appearance even as she slept.
The stairs stood tall and proud in the darkness. A few embers still smoldered in the fireplace, casting homy shadows and illuminating the living room.
The kitchen lay vacant; a rare thing so far. Plates of all sizes, shapes, and colors had been stacked neatly in various drawers and cabinets. The silverware lay drying on a rack. The smell of biscuits was gone, and open window leaching the scent of fresh rain into the air.
Ace's plane sat peacefully in the drive. Many rooms, both upstairs and downstairs, sat empty.
One room in particular however stood out. The sheets were perfectly neat, pillowcase unrumpled, the room bare except for a few simple decorations. The only thing that gave away any sign of previous occupancy was the one small union-jack emblazoned sock abandoned on the green rug, unnoticed by all.
Back in the master bedroom, the only two awake in the entire house, Luna shivered again, harder this time and leaned back into Wyatt's warmth. Her willowy silhouette was swallowed up by a combination of shadow and skin. The slinky red, white, and eye-wateringly blue dress lay abandoned on the wood floor. It looked like a cocoon, the caterpillar that it used to contain now a butterfly without it.
Luna could feel his hand on her spine. "I admit, I much prefer jeans. Though it was fun to try on until it started raining..." she laughed. Her own fingers ran over the silk of his pectorals, slipping over small scars and cicatrixes as they went. She could feel his abs pressed against her spine.
"Thank you, by the way."
The sheets were cold and smooth against her bare legs. The not-quite-strawberry smell of Wyatt surrounded her in an intoxicating cloud.