cold, and absolutely exhausted from a long week, curling up with her head resting against 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎. chest, hoping upon hope that she might actually sleep tonight.

the weight of his arms was settling, allowing a few uninterrupted hours of sleep before she stirred, mumbling incoherently in her half asleep, half waking state, remnants of a nightmare running through her mind.

Her grip on his sleep shirt tightened, but for once she didn’t wake. The calmness of his lips on her temple and his words allowing her to sleep through the rest of the night until the first morning light.

the blood on my teeth begins to taste like a poem, like religion, like the way you look at me.

…. i just wanted to empty the dishwasher, why is he like this?

… it’s very in the way.

… well no, but you’re going to have extra dishes with me living here now, so we’re going to have to compromise.

okay deal. that’s fair.

She didn’t stir until the point in which he sat at the edge of the bed, then her eyes slowly fluttered open, finding him in the golden light. “Morning.. smells like coffee..” her voice still quiet from sleep.

another day another undercover mission

“Painkillers? Or some actual alcohol? I can do either.”

“Now that’s something I can help with.” Retrieving a large glass of water and the painkillers, sliding them over.

She might not be able to offer much advice, but she’ll happily lend a listening ear.

His rambling might not be entertaining, but she’s not going anywhere regardless. She’ll sit and listen, or just sit. Whatever works. Paperwork should be illegal. Probably why she ‘delegates’ as much of hers as possible.

—— 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎.