So this is a new series for more 47/Diana love that I can only find in the dark corners of the internet/my heart, so I thought of writing some more for the fellow shippers out there ^^ Let me know what you think?
Diana was almost the polar opposite of him; charismatic, social, petite, loving, soft to the touch. Even at odd hours that he got back from a job all bloody and beat up, she would be up waiting with a steaming cup of coffee to wake him up as he plopped down in a chair and began stitching himself back together.
Much to his surprise, she didn't ask about the scars, the burns, the horrific flesh that was normally concealed beneath his classic suit and tux. She would fish out the first aid kid that was now kept in the bedside night table and hand him a pain pill or two while she got to work.
47 would often be too tired to speak, let alone move unless she helped him lie down on the bed after they finished cleaning him up and patching the new formed cuts and holes that would linger after he fell asleep. The hitman watched as his handler propped his head up on top of a second pillow and she rubbed his bald head soothingly. He closed his eyes and opened them when a low and pleasant groan rumbled from the back of his throat. "Diana.."
"Shh," she smile down at him, not the least phased by the blood bath he was twenty minutes ago. "Get some sleep, Darling." Diana lowered her mouth to 47's dry mouth and let her lips linger there with a lithe touch.
47 groggily opened his eyes and saw Diana smiling at him again as he felt her hand give his head another soothing touch. "Job well done as always, 47," she spoke slowly before turning the light out. He didn't need to see her to know he wasn't alone in the bed, her arm wrapped lightly around his torso was enough proof that Diana wasn't going to be gone when he woke up.