A/N: I don't know where this came from. It just hit me out of the blue, so I sat down to write it. I'm kinda fond of it, so If you wouldn't mind reviewing, I would be pretty happy. It's short, it's sweet, and it really doesn't have any angst. I tried a different style of writing, I've read it in some ff's and books, so if you could tell me what you think, I would be most appreciative.
I don't own the characters.
Addiction. I can't help but wonder what good old Webster has to say about it. I know what I have to say about it. It's the thing, the need for alcohol that haunts my thoughts, and inhibits people (meaning myself) from living a normal life. It's what happened to Carter after Paul Sobricki stabbed him, it's what can hurt or help relationships…
I slide out of bed and pad over to the bookshelf to pull out the dictionary.
Ab, ac, ad. Addiction.
Why am I looking this up? Hell if I know. Carter's sleeping. He looks incredibly peaceful and…beautiful and here I am looking up a stupid word.
Addiction- The quality or state of being addicted.
Really? Could have fooled me. I look at the second definition
Addiction- The compulsive physiological need for a habit-forming drug. (such as heroin)
Okay, so it's to a drug. I look over at Carter and suddenly, I wonder: Does it have to be a drug? Could it be to a person? I set the dictionary back on the shelf, return to the bed, and slide in beside Carter. He shifts slightly but doesn't wake up.
I lift my hand to his face, wanting to touch it, but so afraid to wake him. Carefully, I brush my finger tips across his forehead and down his nose. His nose twitches and I giggle silently. My fingertips travel silently down his neck, over his chest and stop to rest at his belly button. Before I can think, they are dancing across his stomach, making small designs on his flesh.
I hope this doesn't wake him up.
Reluctantly, I will myself to stop. I don't want to wake him. If I do, I can't admire him.
I love everything about him: I love his eyes, his puppy dog eyes that cause my walls to crumble every time. He might think that I hate that he can do that, but I love it. Sometimes, he doesn't even need to. Sometimes, he just knows what's wrong, what's right or even just what is.
I love his lips. They tell me things to make everything right. They tell me things that can screw up my world and then tell me things to make everything right. They sometimes tell me things that will never make anything right, but they always say the right things. They kiss my skin in the night and send shivers up my spine, they do so many things…
I love his arms. They are so full of love and kindness. They can hold me until my fears subside, they can hold a child whose parents died, they can hold a newborn baby, they can hold a maniac to keep him from hurting someone…They're safe and comforting and caring…
I love everything about him, but I shouldn't go on about each individual part of his body.
It isn't even about his body.
It's about him.
Carter can break down my walls and make my fears go away. Carter can tell me things no one else would dare tell me, he can make things right, and hold me, hold children, hold babies. Carter does it. His body is just the means through which he does it.
Not his body.
Still…sometimes I wish I could just crawl into his body and stay there forever, protected from everything.
Then again, I want to protect him.
I wish I could. I'm failing at it, not able to do it the way he does. I try to save him but he ends up saving me…
I don't know what I would do without him. I don't even want to think about it. I want to think that we'll be together forever. Maybe sometime in the middle of forever, I'll be able to do everything for him that he does for me.
I sigh and lay my head against his shoulder. I take in the scent of his shirt. I'm wearing it, not him, but I can smell it better when I'm closer to him.
How did I survive without you? I ask him. He doesn't hear me. It doesn't help that I didn't say anything, but that's ok.
He shifts slightly and wraps his arm around me. See, even in sleep he knows what I need. I kiss his shoulder softly.
Not softly enough though. He stirs and opens his eyes.
"Hey, you're awake," he murmurs sleepily.
"Yeah," I tell him breathlessly.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks. Now it's his turn to trail his fingertips along my body and rest them at my belly button where they dance around making patterns on my skin.
I sigh, relishing the feeling. "You," I whisper. I don't want to break the feeling. I wonder if he can feel it to, but again, I say nothing.
Carter sighs. I know he's feeling it too.
"I do the same thing," he tells me, planting a soft kiss on my lips.
"Oh?"
He pulls me closer to his body, trying desperately to show something so emotional via physical means. It's so hard to do, but we understand each other. I sigh and we pull ourselves into one another.
"It's an addiction," he tells me quietly.
As we drift off to sleep, I realize that I know what he means.
Addiction-The quality or state of being addicted. The compulsive physiological need for a drug?
Hardly.
Carter?
Yes.