Thatch and the cleaning crew already knew where to look to find everything, thanks to the stuff Izou had set up prior to your mother's break in. The cleaning crew knew where that stuff was as well, and removed it.

The space was once again just you and Thatch, within an hour of the morning's shenanigans.

Once Thatch closes the door he drops to his knees and pulls you into a hug. The entire action is swift and surprising, but it's so careful and gentle you don't even flinch from the suddenness of it. His face is buried in your shoulder, and he's got his arms wrapped around you, when you return the embrace he sighs into you.

You can feel him relax a little, sinking into you, and just letting the tension of the last few hours melt out of him.

"I am so sorry," he says, his hug tightening for a moment.

"I'm okay," you assure him softly, smoothing the cropped hair at the back of his head with your hand. "You did good."

Thatch leans back, looking up into your eyes. He seems on the verge of tears, searching your face for something. Smiling down at him you kiss the tip of his nose, and watch his cheeks turn pink.

"I will never talk like that around you again, Doll, I won't. I might come home from work tired and maybe I won't have a whole lotta words, but I won't ever be so short with you. You had to follow your folks' whims around without them telling you anything, and I won't do that to you."

"You didn't." You assure him, brushing your fingers through the short hairs on the side of his head, just above his ear. Those green eyes this close to yours were beautiful, and he looks like he's on the verge of tears. "We discussed everything beforehand."

"I know, I know, but the yelling." He groans, putting his face back into your shoulder.

"I'm not afraid of you," you say quietly, and feel Thatch's body tense beneath your fingers. "You're the kindest, most gentle person I've ever known. I worry that you would hurt yourself to protect me, and I -."

Thatch leans back at that, and the look in his eyes catches the words in your throat. You feel like you're faced with an immovable object, and you were not an unstoppable force.

"I..." You swallow, trying to keep your eyes on his, feeling the blood rush up into your face. "I love you, and, and," you can't handle the expression on his face right now. He looks so happy you're embarrassed down to your toes. "And I don't want you to get hurt."

"I can take it," he says, his voice light and warm.

"I can't," you assert, looking back at him before looking away again. "The idea of you being hurt scares me."

Thatch's knuckles brush against your cheek, causing you to turn back toward him. His expression is so warm you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. He brushes a tear away with his thumb before it falls down your cheek, still smiling softly.

"It's the same for me. I don't want anything to hurt you ever again," he says, nuzzling his face into your hand, closing his eyes and sinking into the warmth of it all. "We're gonna say something stupid some days, and we're going to do things that cause issues, because that's how it goes. It's okay."

He cups your face in his hands carefully, giving you a chance to step back if you needed to. His pompadour pushes up against your hair when he puts your forehead against his for a moment.

"I'll do everything I can to keep us both safe." He promises. "I love you too, I'm gonna do my best to make ya' happy."

You can feel the tears slipping down your cheeks, and you're not even sure why you're crying. Thatch leans back, rubbing the tears from your face carefully with his thumbs.

"I can't stop them," you say, smiling despite the tears. "I don't know why I'm crying."

"You're not sad, yeah?" Thatch tilts your head to the side and kisses one of the tears.

"I'm not." You assure him, feeling warmth spread out from the place he kissed.

"They might be happy tears then." He hums, as you wipe them from your eyes. You can't see him clearly, and you think he's crying too. When you clear your vision you can see wet streaks down his cheeks.

"Were yours?" You question, brushing your fingers over one of the wet trails.

He nods. "Yeah. I ain't never felt like this before, and hearing you say you love me was the sweetest sound I've ever heard."

Your smile falters and your brows furrow, and you can see the emotion on your face reflected in the concern on Thatch's face. He pulls you close and lets you cry into his shoulder for a moment, unsure why your tears are suddenly so sad.

"If my parents... if they take you away," you sob, holding onto Thatch. "I've never been scared like this."

"Even if they try, I won't let 'em." He says softly, rubbing your back and letting you get your concerns out for a few more minutes before you lean back. "You don't have to hold anything in with me, Doll. You can get it all out."

Sniffling, you wipe your eyes. "Sorry," you say, pointing to his shoulder. He doesn't have to look he can feel the wetness against his skin already.

"It's alright. Here," he pulls the yellow scarf around his neck off. "You can clean your face up with this. I'm not going anywhere today, so I don't need it."

You accept the offered item and begin to clean up your face. You can feel Thatch watching you, and every time you glance at him, he looks so smitten. If you had been anything like your parents, you could've led this man off the edge of a cliff and he would've thanked you for it.

But if you were anything like your parents, you wouldn't have gotten matched with him.

"Hey," he hums, pulling you up from the thoughts you were getting lost in. You tilt your head and he smiles. It's not fair how adorable you look, even with tears drying on your face. "May I kiss you?"

Nodding, you smile. "As much as you want."

"Don't give me that much leeway," he hums, pressing his lips against yours warmly before leaning back. "I'll never make it to work."

You laugh even as he kisses you again, a warmth pressing against the corner of your mouth. He kisses your lips when you stop laughing, his hands spread out against your back, shifting enough to press kisses against your cheeks. The scruff of his goatee tickles your neck when he kisses along your jaw.

Your fingers dance against the back of his head, along his nape, when you turn your head to the side and let his lips press against your neck. The soft warmth presses deeper into you, and at one point a sweet sound passes your lips when his find a tender place on the crook of your neck, just before your shoulder.

Thatch's hands tighten against you, and you hold onto him, letting his lips find all the tender places on one side of your neck, and then the other. Pausing from their quest only long enough to kiss your lips a few more times.

The sweet airy sounds of pleasure that tremble from your lips take on a deep, needy moan, and you and Thatch both freeze. You put your hands over your mouth and he shifts back, giving you a little space.

"I've never made a noise like that before." You say quietly, everything but your eyes hidden behind your hands. Thatch smiles, and there's a roguish charm to it.

"I keep telling you Doll, you gotta warn a guy before you compliment him like that." He teases, kissing the backs of your hands since you're not moving them.

The whole ordeal has you so flustered you don't know what to say, but when Thatch stands up, you step forward and hide your face against his stomach. He stays there, rubbing your back gently until you're able to step back.

Your face is still flushed, but you're not covering it with your hands anymore.

"I don't know what to do with this feeling," you admit. "I've never felt this before."

"Never been in love?" Thatch prompts, and you shake your head.

"I mean, that too, but... I don't know the word for this." Looking around the apartment, your face scrunches up a little, as you try to find the words you need.

"You chew on that, let me get breakfast going." Thatch says, patting your shoulder before he walks into the kitchen.

You follow him, sitting at the breakfast bar. You're still injured, you already know he's not going to let you help, but more than that you're distracted with the emotions swirling inside you.

"My parents texted me last night." You say. Maybe if you talked about other things you'd be able to chew on this feeling subconsciously.

"Oh?"

"Wanted to know why things were tense." You continue, and Thatch snorts. "Admitted right away that they'd come in while we were gone and put up some cameras."

"Wow." Thatch says, shaking his head.

"I think they wanted me to tell them to come get me." You sigh. "If I had to guess I bet they want to try and sue you and your father."

"Except now they don't have any video evidence." Thatch cracks some eggs one-handed and the ease with which he does it is mesmerizing for a moment.

"And probably not enough footage to try and edit it." You murmur.

"Your parents would go that far?"

You nod. "That's what my mother does for work. Sometimes it's legitimate, but I think most of the time it isn't."

"Video editing?"

"Editing... and um," you move your hand like you're writing, the word failing you for a moment. "Forgery."

"Ah." Thatch sets some strips of bacon in a pan, giving them a moment to hiss and pitch a fit before he turns to you again. "What's your dad do then?"

"I'm not really sure," you admit. "He talks to everyone though. I think people assume he's in sales or something."

"Grifter." Thatch offers and you nod.

"Probably."

"Can your mom forge your signature?" He questions and you shrug.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so." You admit, thinking about it. "I don't remember ever signing anything."

"Nothing?" Thatch seems genuinely surprised.

"Nothing is in my name." You shrug. "I've heard them arguing about it before, how they could use my name to get credit and such, but they had to be careful because of the plan."

"Ah, yeah, they wouldn't want to mess up your chances of getting the kind of match they were looking for."

"Hey, Thatch, do you... do you think..." You're afraid to form the question. It's been weighing on your heart since you first met him, and you may never know the answer.

"I think whatever our compatibility score is, doesn't matter." He answers, smiling at you when you manage to look up at him. "Things might be moving faster than they would be without the Match program, but we'll make it work."

The soft sounds of Thatch cooking breakfast fill the air between you. The sizzle of the bacon starts to reach your nose, now that you're relaxing enough to really enjoy it. The scent of butter warming in the skillet for the eggs nearby. Onions and other herbs mingled with the rest, and then he put bread in the toaster, and that made you realize how hungry you were.

The sweet scent of fruit tea mingles with the brisk smell of Thatch's coffee. There was no music, but you could still hear it. There was a little jiggle in Thatch's movements, as though he could hear the same music and doesn't even realize he's moving to the beat of it.

This was a routine you could get used to. A love so soft it enveloped you gently.

"... I'm glad it was you." You say quietly, and he smiles.

"Me too, Doll. Me too."