It's always a good day when you wake up with a fic for your OTP on the brain X3 Enjoy.
The sun has just peeked over the horizon when I get in. It had been a long night of following dead ends. I'm not discouraged, not really. Every case works itself out eventually. What I am is tired.
I slip into bed beside her. She faces away from me, towards the window beyond the bed. The lovely curve of her back sinks beneath the sheets. I keep a distance just to watch the light filtering through the curtains start to play off her thick black hair.
She turns in her sleep, away from the light, towards me. I slide towards her and catch her head in my left arm. My right wraps over her waist and presses against her back. Heat radiates through the oversized t-shirt she wears to bed. It used to be mine. She looks better in it, though. With a sigh, she snuggles into my bare chest, still asleep.
Looking down at her, I wonder how I could be so lucky to love her. To have her love me. The amazement is still fresh, renewed every time I look at her in moments like this. She looks so peaceful. I wonder what she's dreaming, what's bringing that little smile to her face.
Some nights, I'm afraid to go to sleep. Something I saw on patrol might have triggered the nightmare. Sometimes it starts innocently enough, the beginnings of a good dream. Perhaps my subconscious concocts a new scheme of Joker's; that's not so innocent. But they all end in the same place. In the dark alley, as my eight-year old self, kneeling beside my dead parents.
Different, too, is the way I react to the nightmare. Sometimes I wake up so full of rage, the only way to put a dent in it is to go to the gym and pulverize a couple of punching bags. Other times I open my eyes to a wavering world, moisture on my cheeks, and I know I've been crying in my sleep. Occasionally the ceiling greets me and I stare blankly back, nothing but numbness inside me, like all my emotions have been wrung dry.
I think I prefer the numbness.
She knows, I think, about the dreams if not the nightmare specifically. There's not much those blue eyes miss. I feel them draping sympathy and worry over my back as I turn away and wipe my eyes on the corner of the pillowcase. I feel the invitation in the small, soft hand she places on my muscled shoulder. When I silently stand, leaving her hand behind, I sense her disappointment. I hate that I do that to her.
But she doesn't let on. She takes in the hurt she doesn't let me see and turns it into understanding. That's all I ever see when I catch her bright blue eyes on me. Never pity, never anger or resentment. She waits for me to tell her, to be ready to tell her.
I'm so grateful for that. I'm so grateful for her. I lean down and lightly kiss the top of her head, inhale the scent of her shampoo. My love could never match her patience, but I hope it's good enough to tide her over until I'm ready to talk. I rest my chin on the top of her head, close my eyes, and wait for the day to start.
Not much, but it's more than I've written in a long while XD;; As always, thank you for reading; please leave a review :3