Well. This was fucking adorable. Spades Slick, the most dangerous and powerful mobster in Midnight city, was sitting on the couch in his apartment with the most badass bitch in, well, the universe, watching a shitty movie. They'd get together for a little movie night every Friday, and pick a purposefully terrible movie so they could complain about it the whole time. Usually it was beside them to even focus on the story, since the whole evening often turned into a sloppy make-out session. She had her head on his shoulder (she was a good bit taller than him, which made this a bit awkward looking) which was a huge distraction in itself. He was always so aware of her presence, as she'd been in his life for such a long time, over four-hundred years now. Times like this, though he never would admit it, were his favorite. They could spend all day battling with words and weapons, nobody winning of course, and at the end of the day they would ease into this comfortable experience, enjoying the familiarity of each other, the stability. Their relationship was a mix of passion and rage, contempt and adoration, but always, always, it was met with such an intimacy, such closeness. That intimacy was most apparent at times like this, when the knives were put away and the wounds were licked and they just enjoyed each other's presence. They were both content and comfortable with the way they were, and fuck anyone who didn't like it.
Snowman had been quiet for a few minutes, so he assumed she was deep into the climactic scene that was occurring. Slick was about to make a comment on the attractiveness of the starlet on screen, just to piss her off, when he noticed her breathing was deep and slow, and her eyes were closed. He smirked at that, her falling asleep like a little girl, too tired to finish watching the movie. She looked so different when she was asleep, so non-threatening. The lines of her face were smooth, her brow unfurrowed, her lips parted slightly, and a peacefulness was shown to him. It was rare seeing her like this, being so...vulnerable, when she usually was so full of biting energy, a show of fury and contempt, ready to spit venom at him. He wondered, which was the real Snowman? The one he saw in her waking hours, or this simple, sleeping woman?
In any case, she was out like a light and at his mercy. He could do anything he wanted to her at this advantage, malicious or otherwise. She let out a small sigh to break his fantasizing, a breathy whisper from a dream, and his smirk turned into a genuine smile as he put his arm around her. He reached for a bit of popcorn (she burnt it purposely, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of not eating it) and chuckled at himself. He decided her being this way around him, that meant something. He didn't know why exactly, but it just made him feel stupidly happy that she trusted him like that, when he could easily destroy her right this minute. Maybe he didn't because it wasn't quite fair when she was sleeping, though he never had anything against fighting dirty and kicking a dog when it was down. Even so, he pushed thoughts of thoughts of such black acts aside. Plenty of time for that in the morning. Instead, he just settled his head against hers, closing his eyes, and fell into a comfortable sleep with his ugly and beautiful, hated and adored lover Snowman, just as the credits began to roll. That's all, folks.