When your little sister doesn't want to play barbies with you anymore because she's 'too old' (11) so now you have no excuse to play with them yourself
Fatigued wasn't the right word for the bone deep exhaustion she was experiencing. Her whole body felt as if it was made of lead as she trudged into the hotel room she'd be sharing for the night.
She'd begged her handler to book two separate rooms, but she swears he enjoys seeing her suffer — so he booked one room. With one bed.
"Great." She mutters as she drops her bag, leaning it against the wall to keep it close but out of the way.
She kicks off her shoes and shrugs off her jacket. Throwing herself at the small mattress with a groan, allowing herself to sink into the plush material.
Surprisingly, when the dark haired man comes into the hotel room, his feet dragging even more heavily than hers, he doesn't say anything.
He just drops his bag right beside hers and begins undressing. How indecent. She mentally scolds him but it doesn't leave her lips.
He strips down to just his black boxers and approaches the bed. For once, his eyes shimmer with a hint of hesitation.
She realizes she has been staring at him absentmindedly and lets her head lull to the side.
Fuck him and his pretty face, right?
He crawls into bed with a sense of care she'd never seen from him. As if he was actually trying to be careful to not disturb her.
The reality that she's taking up almost the whole bed, and his hulking form is curled up teetering on the edge, amuses her beyond belief.
But the way he doesn't complain about it pulls at her heart strings in a way she's not used to, and she shifts (with much resistance thanks to her body) to create more space for him.
He makes a small grunting noise of acknowledgement, and maybe even thanks, as he inches closer to her. But not too close.
They've always had a delicate relationship, but not delicate in the way that implies it might fall apart if they were to start arguing — delicate in the sense that even they don't understand it sometimes. The weight of unspoken care between them is clear in moments like these.
She lifts her arms up above her head, letting out a long sigh. Trying to relax. Trying to make her mind stop. Her brain moving at a million miles an hour, thought after thought, all of them becoming more and more anxious.
She knows she does good work, people tell her this and she believes it. But she can't help but anxiously chew on her bottom lip as she zones out. Thinking about all the things she could've done wrong that would ruin their mission.
That's when she feels a warmth settle against her skin, unfamiliar but unexpectedly welcome. His large hand was tucked under the hem of her shirt that rides up, splayed against her soft stomach. His thumb rubbing circles against her belly.
She makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, it was meant to be one of protest but it sounded more like encouragement than anything.
He can't help but huff softly.
"You did good. Stop overthinking it." Came the soft praise. And she relaxes at this.
Why? She doesn't know. But his naturally gravelly voice combined with his gentle tone eases her nerves.
She sighs, turning her head towards him. Realizing that he's been studying her soft profile this entire time. Her dark blue eyes meet his sharp green ones. They hold eye contact for a long moment, longer than normal or necessary, really. And she offers him a little smile, like an olive branch.
And he accepts this offering by showing her a little smile of his own.
His hand stays settled against her soft skin, beginning to rub in circles with his whole hand versus just his thumb.
Her lashes flutter and she can't help but close her eyes. Relaxation settling in for the first time in a long time. How come she feels at ease?
"Pretty girl." The man can't help but huff affectionately. His tone rough and quiet.
She wants to bite back with a "look who's being affectionate" or simply a "what do you want?" but the warmth that blooms in her chest makes her hesitate.
She lets out a soft sigh, rolling on her side towards him. Tangling their legs together as she tucks her face in his chest. His hand slides to the slope of her spine and gently tugs her closer. His other arm sliding underneath her head, allowing her to prop the side of her face on his strong bicep.
"Sleep." He rumbles.
And for once in her entire life, much to his delight, she complies.
As time passes, minutes and then hours, he continues to gently run his finger up and down the arch of her back. Sleep tugging on his own conscious until he can't fight it any longer.
He leans forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head before he cannot keep his eyes open to gaze at her peaceful face any longer.
And they sleep through the night; safe and comfortable in one another's presence.
Until they inevitably fight the next day, of course.
I actually really enjoyed writing this. It's so so soft and warm and comfortable. Interaction of all kinds is very welcome! :) Thanks for reading.
