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It’s nice to have this kind of time with Khan.

When neither of you are busy and you’re able to enjoy his company without any work obligations getting in your way.
Khan likes to relax in his office for his lunch break and you’re more than happy to join him, relaxing on the little couch right beside him as you both enjoyed your lunch.
Normally you eat in relative silence, enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes when you’ve finished before you get off break Khan will let you rest your head on his lap.

Now was one of those times. Khan petting absently at your hair and reading over a report dimly as his fingers work over your hair. He’s messing up your updo but you don’t really mind that much.
It feels comforting to have his thick fingers absently playing with your hair, twisting the locks around his fingers, petting it, scratching your scalp lightly with blunt nails.
The sensation is enough to have you nodding off, your own fingers drawing little abstract patterns into the fabric of his uniform pants. Your voice is a little dogged by sleep when your speak up,

“Khan?” You ask softly, sleepily. He grunts a little to tell you to keep talking and you do after a beat,

“What do you think about us?”

He pauses, puts the report down, stops playing with your hair and a sick feeling turns in your gut. Woozily you push yourself up onto your palms so you could get a good look at him.
He’s starring right ahead, blinking slightly and looking very much like he’s in the middle of thinking out a response-there’s that furrow in his brow that he gets whenever he’s thinking hard.
His hands are a little slow to take off his sunglasses and to rub at his face as if to try and smooth out the furrows in his face. When his hand pulls away he finally turns to look at you,

“That’s….hard to answer..”

His voice is a little strained, not angry but obviously a little out of sorts. He falls silent again, thinking, eyes cast down away from your expectant face and you look away too.
Nervourness is fluttering in your chest and there’s an odd anxiety in your stomach. You weren’t exactly afraid that Khan was going to leave you, you were more sketched out by how odd he seems to have reacted.
He weathers his lip between his teeth for a second, rubbing at his stubble with his knuckles, he hums for a moment before fully replying, turning his head,

“There’s a lot I think about us..”

“Really?” You’re a little shocked, biting your tongue and trying to swallow down your thumping heart.

Khan’s cheeks are a little red when he continues, “Yeah…”

His hand wanders over to touch yours, thumb rubbing at your knuckles, his eyes soft on yours. It melts your heart, your fear falling away in the face of his gentle intimacy.
You scoot closer, pecking his cheek lightly and letting your arms wind around his neck and letting your head fall against his shoulder. You feel Khan’s hand rubbing at your knee,

“I really want to stay with you…” He says, voice almost boyishly shy,

“Me too..” You aren’t as shy as him but you still tuck your face against his neck.

The moment stagnates into silence again, though it isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as before. This silence feels promising and you sutbly squeeze him tighter.
Khan pries your arms down for a second so that he could turn his head and plant a light reassuring kiss on your lips. You mumble something but don’t push him away from you. Kissing him always feels nice, nice and calming and grounding. Sometimes he’d peck you on the cheek or maybe a sneaky kiss on the lips when he could tell you were stressed out-now was no different.

When he pulls away his eyes are soft and you feel a familiar warm fluttering in your chest and you smile too,

“I know I’m not exactly as spry as a lot of the guys here but I hope I make up for it in other ways,” Khan’s voice is thick with emotion and your heart twists a little.

You say his name in a soft whisper, fingers brushing against the little silver strands of hair at his temples. Again you lean in, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead and then another on his lips before replying,

“You more than make it up to me..”

“How?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe you, eyes scanning your face desperately to try and find any hint of deception.

You think for a long moment, stroking gently at his cheek and thinking about all the little things that Khan did for you that no one else did. He was old-fashioned, he opened doors for you and pulled out your chair for you and always dipped his head when you came in. When you were upset or stressed he’d squeeze your shoulder and whisper something encouraging in your ear, voice soothing and gentle. If his age showed at all it was in his wisdom, in the way he always seemed to give the right advice at the right time and how having a good talk with him always seemed to imbue you with energy. He didn’t treat you any different for being younger, for not knowing as much as he did-he loved you as you were.

His love was genuine, there was so hidden agenda when he kissed you good morning, there was no malice in the way he’d lay his coat over your shoulders on a cold night. There was no manipulation, no ulterior motives, no deception in how he loved you, it came natural to him. Loving you was as natural to him as everything else that he did-the realization has shiny tears welling in your eyes,

“Everything…” You trail, “Everything you do for me is more than enough..”

His smiles weakly, guides you into his lap so he can hold you close. His voice is a light whisper tickling your neck when he speak,

“You’re more than enough for me too..” He pauses, tapping your thigh and earning a little yelp.

You look at him and pout and he just laughs and pinches your cheeks. Your pout doesn’t last and you dissolve into giggly tears, grinning widely and scrubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand(your makeup is probably ruined now).

Your giggles fade and you look at him, meeting his loving gaze and blushing a little before leaning down to plant a slow kiss on him. The movements of your lips against his are leisurely, your tongue feeling like molasses when it slips inside to move against his. His hands, big and broad and familiar trace all the way up your spine and then back down again as he reciprocates.

It feels like the kiss goes on for far longer than it actually does and when you pull away you’re pleasantly breathless and Khan is smiling,

“Guess this old dog’s still got some life left in him eh?”

You laugh a little, scoot off his lap and rest your head on the opposite side of the couch. Khan pulls your calves into his lap, shucking off your shoes and rubbing soothing little circles into your skin,

“You’re in for the long haul huh?” You ask, watching his profile as he focused on your legs. Without miss a beat he replies,

“Yes Ma’am!” His voice is back to his usual timbre and you smile broadly,

“I love you old man….”