Light from the street lamps filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the bare white wall. It was the third day since they'd moved into the comfortable albeit small apartment. They had yet to unpack and their things littered the floors. From the hallway to the kitchen, to even their bedroom, boxes were piled up and up and up. Even their bed hadn't been properly attired. All they had was a mattress thrown haphazardly to the pale hardwood floor, sheets tossed even more carelessly over top. A comforter and her collection of pillows completed the messy coziness of the room.
Taking a seat upon the floor, she carefully stripped the canary yellow boots from her sore legs, casting them to the side, directly beside her vanity. Following that went the suit, the cape already having been deposited across the bedroom door. Out of her suit, she felt much more like herself and yet, not. Without the mask, she was just Barbara Gordon - or Babs, as he called her. With the faintest of smiles upon her lips, she pulled the shirt closest to her over her tousled locks, the article in question smelling of her husband. Hugging her knees to her chest, she cast a glance at the slumbering form whose body was nestled under the luxurious goose down blanket, only his face and shock of red hair visible. He looked so peaceful she could have cried - it was so rare to see that perfectly chiseled face so relaxed.
She crawled into bed, her bony knees bumping against his own as she lifted the comforter. Sliding beneath it, she was calmed by the warmth of it, of Roy's body. And as she found her lids beginning to droop, she surveyed the room once more.
It wasn't much but it was theirs.
