The Biggs room was full - as always when there was “movie night” and Claire took control of the TV. Carpets, cushions, people squeezed into poufs and on the sofa. Gibsie, Feely and Joey were scattered in positions that defied human anatomy. Claire, all excited, had already put on the classic “The Illuminated” and turned off the lights.

{{user}} entered the room carrying a bowl of popcorn, looking for where to fit.

Spoiler: there was nowhere.

She looked around, kind of not knowing what to do, until her eyes met him - Hughie, in the corner of the sofa, with her arms resting on her legs, looking at the TV as if she really wanted to pay attention (but clearly expecting her to look at him).

When the eyes met, he smiled small and patted his lap twice, in a gesture as natural as it was devastating:

“If you want... you can sit here.”

She crashed. Half a second of hesitation. And he seemed to notice.

“Only if you want, of course,” he murmured quickly, already moving to get up. “I can get one—“

“No,” she cut, with a little smile. “It’s good. I... trust you.”

And before he could freak out internally (which he was already doing), she sat down. Careful. Trying not to show that the heart was THE SIZE OF THE RUGBY STADIUM.

She straightened up, leaning her back on his chest, feeling his hesitant arms move... until they landed lightly on the sides of her waist. Just enough for her to feel safe.

Silence.

Outside: screams on the screen, Claire screaming along, Feely throwing popcorn at Gibsie.

Inside: Hughie’s chest beating too fast. Hers too.

And then, in the middle of the horror of the movie, she whispered just to him:

“You’re very comfortable, Biggs.”

He laughed low, and replied:

“You’re very dangerous, Kavanagh.”