a/n; A drabble request from a tumblr prompt list for a friend of mine. c:
A good day on sick leave always included a nap. Always. This was the last day left before her return to active duty, and Anderson had been making excellent use of her time by alternating between napping and picking through the pile of Hall of Justice-approved literature she'd put off reading. Right about now she was draped across her couch and prepared to slide off into a hour or so of natural sleep… none of that simulated shit from the machines she'd been stuck with while battling Judge Death on his most recent bender.
She was just about to doze off when a presence crossing by her apartment door snapped her back into consciousness. It oozed impatience, even some apprehension… but after a moment of blinking and trying to wake back up, it felt familiar again. Anderson relaxed, listening to the quiet beep of the lock before the door slid open. Typical. She figured he wouldn't knock.
"Rise and shine."
"It's four-thirty, Dredd." She rolled to face the back of the couch, knowing without looking that the senior Judge was frowning in his usual disapproving fashion.
"Exactly," he continued, resigning himself to actually enter her apartment, "And you're here laying on the couch like an unemployed civ instead of a Judge." This finally roused a reaction from the Psi; she pulled herself into a sitting position and halfheartedly attempted to tame her mess of long hair with her fingers.
"I'm on sick leave still," she shot back, eying the bag he had in one hand, "Unlike some maniac that decided he was just a-ok to go right back on duty." Whatever he had with him, it smelled like curry. Her stomach betrayed her an offered a quiet rumble that she was positive he would pick up.
"I'll eat this without you," he lifted the bag in mock threat, "I didn't stop by to get sassed."
"That's curry and you don't do spicy food," she was already reaching for either him or the bag (he wasn't sure), "You can't tell me you stopped by for anything else but to check on me, Joe." A quiet grunt followed, but without protest. He passed it to her and settled on the couch next to her, propping his feet up on her coffee table and picking out a book to idly leaf through.
Anderson leaned into his shoulder, rummaging through the bag and procuring a container that smelled twice as good once she peeled the lid off of it. She reached in for the inevitable second one containing his food, but there was only hers.
"Just one?"
"I ate already." He didn't turn to look at her, instead focusing on a passage in a book a little too closely. A grin spread across Anderson's face.
"Joseph Dredd," she laughed, bumping him with her elbow, "I don't even need to be a psychic to read you right now." He let out a quiet growl of warning, but his eyes remained focused on the same paragraph. She decided to cut him some slack, chuckling as she dug into her dinner. "I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking."
"I knew you were fine." Dredd tossed the book onto the table in a display of exasperation. Of course he had known. If she hadn't been alright he would have-
"I'm only teasing you," she said, voice quieter as she leaned her back into his shoulder again, "I know you would have." His shoulders slumped in relief; he hadn't wanted to voice the thought. This most recent brush with Judge Death had rattled him a little more than he cared to let on. Each new visit from him and his brothers left him feeling a little more haggard afterwards, left him wondering if the next time perhaps the creep would get the better of them. He sighed quietly; there was no room to think like that.
"Don't be late tomorrow," he rumbled after a moment, changing the subject before Anderson could say anything further on the matter, "Shift starts at six."