[Just a little one-shot from Carla's point of view. I felt like writing but I didn't have the head for writing a chapter to any of my other fics. (although I plan to get the more popular one's updated ASAP; my last exam is 5th June!) Obviously, it's a Carchelle pairing! Aside from 'Home', I'm not really on board with the whole Carter thing anymore! I guess this is really similar to 'Her scarred smile', but this one's from Carla's pov. Make of this what you will!]
As I watch her sleeping.
As I watch her sleeping, the swell of my duvet indicating where she was curled comfortably, her chest rising and falling with her slow, even breaths, I found myself wondering if she was dreaming.
What would she dream about? Would they be similar to my own? Dreams are so complex. Even if they seem simple. There's always something underlying. Michelle's complex, there's something underlying even in her simplest of gestures. Like her smile, that small, perfect curve of her mouth. It's amazing that after everything she's been through, she still has the will to smile. And if you look at her, properly, you can see what's underlying in her smile. What made her smile? Is it a fake smile? Is she genuinely happy?
I hope so.
I'd literally do anything and everything to make her happy. She deserves it, more than anyone I know. I'd give my own happiness for hers. Anything to see her eyes light up. Oh, god, she's got beautiful eyes. She is beautiful. But her eyes…Wow. Sometimes when she looks at me, with those soulful, hazel pools, I feel like I'm just going to melt right into them and be lost forever.
What a gorgeous place to be lost in.
The only thing that could ever be equal to her outer beauty is her inner.
I wriggle slightly, moving my ear over her chest, listening to the soft, thud of her heartbeat. The most precious sound I will ever hear. I'm no mother, I don't even have that instinct, but I imagine that the sound of Michelle's heart is as beloved and cherished to me as the sound of a baby's first cry to its mother. She has such a good heart, so true, so genuine. And strong. I can't tell you how strong she is, what she's had to cope with. This woman, this wonderful, amazing woman has been my rock. I've known her for twenty years, and it's only now that I'm discovering just how much she means to me. I'm an idiot. How did I not know from the start to treasure her? I'll make it up to her now, every day, for as long as I live.
I love how open she can be with me, like a different person. I never realised quite how alike she was to myself. Maybe she doesn't hide behind her armour quite as much, but that's because she's a loving, compassionate human being. And I'm just selfish. So what makes me worthy of such a beautiful, delicate being? At times, she can be so fragile. What if I beak her? I couldn't live with myself if I pushed her away the way I've pushed away everyone else-
No. It's not about me. I'm doing it again.
This is about her. This is about realising just how wonderful this woman is. This is about showing how grateful I am to have her in my life.
As I watch her sleeping, she's breathtaking. She's not smiling now, but she doesn't look unhappy. She looks peaceful, like she's at ease. Reaching out, I can't help but run my fingertip down her soft cheek, tracing along her jaw line and over the cushioned flesh of her lips.
Her eyes flutter, a soft little hum escaping her lips. That's another thing about her, her voice. It's mesmerising. I hear her singing all the time, little snippets of songs when she's flitting around in the kitchen, a soft lullaby when she's using the bathroom, the delicate, silky notes slipping from her lips. I sometimes hang in the doorway and listen, allowing her spine tingling voice to wash over me like the water droplets that glide down her velvety skin, contouring over each of her perfect curves, the one's I've ran my hands over so many times during our most intimate moments. I know her body better than my own, every freckle, every scar…I've kissed them all, kissed away all of her insecurities, felt her warm breath in my ear as she whispers my name, urging me on, allowing herself to let go…
I've got to close my eyes and stop thinking about that, a flush already creeps along my neck at the thought of her wet and naked, her skin shining. I shiver slightly, and peer back down and my sleeping beauty, my hand gliding through her short, silky locks. How is her hair so shiny, anyway? That's a million dollar question. It's sad, all these years I've known her, and not once have I even asked. I should know these things. I will get to know all these little things. All these little things I love, because I love her.
Shit, I woke her.
Blearily, she peers up at me, her eyes still hazy with sleep. I soothe her softly, the pad of my thumb lightly caressing her cheek. She gives me a hint of her breathtaking smile and coaxes me down.
My breath still hitches even at the softest touch of her lips against my own, our lips moulding around eachother in a way that tells me that I was made to kiss no one else. I don't know how long I linger, but when I eventually pull away, she's slipped into slumber once more.
I don't want to disturb her again, but I need her close to me while I sleep. I'm safe with her…And she's safe with me. I wouldn't want her in anyone else's arms. How could I be sure that they'd look after her the way she deserves?
My arm glides around her slender body and I pull her close to my chest, nuzzling into the back of her hair and inhaling her sweet scent.
I still don't know what she's dreaming, but I know that she's made my life better than any I've ever had.