Ten.
"Friendship is indeed genuine when two friends, without speaking a word to each other, can nevertheless find happiness in being together."
~George Ebers~
We fly side by side, and not a word is shared between us. But it's alright; I'm just enjoying the smell of the night and city life, cool and a little dirty, but familiar. Beside me, I'm sure he's doing the same, albeit also pondering away about some new project idea or another. He always has ideas, and it's convenient, because a majority of them are used to help our crime fighting.
I smile at him, and under the shield over his face, I ca see him return the grin. We don't even need to say anything to know what the other is thinking, feeling. We simply know. It's this weird in-tune thing we have, a sort of connection that's existed since I can remember. It's nice, because it means that I don't have to express what I want or need on a regular basis. Sometimes all it takes is a certain type of silence or facial movement or hand gesture, and he'll understand completely. I love this about our relationship.
Flying down to land on a roof and take a short break in our patrol, we sit with our backs against an empty window and stare up at the misty half-moon above our heads. Wordlessly, I shift to rest my head on the cold glass, but let it roll to the side to lay on Richie's shoulder. He doesn't mind, never has. He's war compared to the spring evening, and I close my eyes. How late is it, I wonder?
Somehow thinking the same thing, Richie holds up his watch. I feel the action and open my eyes to take a quick glance. As I lift my head to look, Richie brings the watch closer to me, and I read the digital numbers: eleven fifty-two. We should be getting home soon, lest we want to get caught not sleeping in our beds.
But I'm too content where I am to move. It's better here, with Richie, in the open night air. I like the silence, like the warmth. It's soothing. But Richie's sighing, which is a sign that he knows all too well how I feel. I stand, unfold my disc, and offer a hand to pull the blond to his feet.
Quietly, we slip through the night and return home without making a sound. But it's being together, facing all odds, which matters most.