A Hero's rest
Squall finally entered into his bungalow like department, the polished and thoroughly cleaned lounge with a floor of wood and a coach next to a large box TV greeted him. But already his mood was in disappointment in seeing his love, his wife asleep. She was dressed in her usual light blue gown as her gentle face that was clean was relaxed as she lied in her dormant state. Squall couldn't help but notice the peaceful but worn comparison of her wife compared to his worn and exhausted state, his work was hell and since the floor was marred by thick mud showed it. In a way perhaps Rinoa being asleep wasn't so bad after all. He was still happy though she was enjoying her peace and not shrieking over his mudded entrance but wished to feel her kiss just as much.
Deciding to stop gazingly at Rinoa, Squall shifted off his over weighed clothes, heavy by the drying of the brown earth that now strengthen, losing the free moving liquid of it only to bear a hard wearing shell over him. He went to kitchen and took off everything save his surprisingly white shirt and his boxers. With some stunned surprise he heard its powerful weight slam into the basket. Wearing those clothes it seemed was more hell than wielding a sword!
He returned to the room where his wife slept on the sofa, he looked down to notice the railroad wreckage of mud over the floor, not knowing why he smiled briefly as he decided to leave it. He would clean it of course but there was no humour, no fun gained. Better he felt to let Rinoa see this first, of course she would go mad but she would love him still as she was just as much a fool for him as he was for her.
He slowly lied upon its end and edged closely before her, even if her body did spread across the furniture in a act of unconscious selfishness. He managed to lie down beside her and planted his head beside hers, feeling her warm hair touch his cheek and relaxed like she did but with a arm around her as he slowly joined her in the journey to the dreams.
"I love you" Me said quietly but with a soft touch as his words no longer had its strength, as the breath no longer was a messenger of his heart and was but a soft exhale breath of rest where he finally fell asleep.
AN: Inspired when I was looking upon portraits and saw a couple sleeping; reviews anyone?