Pretty Women - Klaus/Zantabraxus
Even gone, she lingered. A continent away and still, her presence haunted his mind, flooding his memories. Simple things, like the different ways she smiled (Thirty-seven, to be exact. He'd memorized every one), the way she felt when she was asleep in his arms (how was it possible for someone to fit so perfectly?), the way her body responded to his touch, and how his body responded to hers (like she was what he'd been searching for his entire life, and how he'd keep searching for a way to get back to her, somehow).
He remembered the time she'd asked him about Europa what it was like there, what he missed. In a small fit of nostalgia, he had admitted how he'd missed waffles. He hadn't really thought about it much after that, but a few weeks later, he had returned to their bedchamber to find her lying on their bed, clad only in a few strategically-placed waffles, a jar of honey on the bedside table, and a wicked g