Angela is still as beautiful as she was the day Shawn accidentally took her purse. Shawn doesn’t often tell her that because too much flattery makes her roll her eyes, but she’s still the most important person in the world to him.
She’s still sultry, whether she’s leading a lecture at MOMA or helping Cory and Topanga’s kids bake cookies for their parent’s anniversary. He knows her warmth and her cold anger, and her faces and moods now, the difference between ‘this is doing jack shit for me, baby’ and ‘ooh, more.’
He’ s seen her replete and sweaty with her arms spaghetti –limp, sweat glistening on her mahogany-colored back and her heart beating hard beneath his hand. He’s had her back bowed and her mouth spread open in a moan of release, both hands flailing desperately against his back as they thrashed their way to orgasmic completion, and made slow, near-silent love to her on the floor of the apartment. There have been hundreds of angles, positions, incidents, moments, and sensations.
He could watch her simply be herself for hours. And that, more than anything, reminded Shawn of why he and Angela were made for each other.