(Set in this verse because I haven’t seen past it, and mostly they need to be happy and fuck AoS for what they did.
Also let’s pretend that I can write the greatness that is Melinda May)
He wakes up panting and in a sweat trying to get the leftovers images of Melinda and Daisy’s lifeless bodies out of his mind.
When he calms down, Andrew’s not surprised to not find Melinda in bed when he wakes and it’s still dark outside. She’s always been an early riser when they were still married. She’s always hated hotel beds. And now after everything, well, he’s not the only one with nightmares.
They’re both still adjusting.
“Hey,” he says when he finds her on the couch, “bad dream again?”
Melinda doesn’t say anything as he sits down on the couch, and Andrew knows it’s useless to probe. Melinda will talk when she wants too, and if not to him to someone else. Instead he pulls her close, and he’s just glad she let’s him, glad when she rest her head on his shoulder.
“Did I wake you?” she asks finally.
“No, I’m not having nice dreams either.” He grimaces at the memory of why he woke up, distracts himself from the image with the affirmation that Melinda is here with him safe and alive and they get to have this. Even in a dream the idea of Melinda and Daisy lying lifeless makes him sick.
“The one about Daisy? Or me?”
“Both,” Andrew answers lying down on the couch and pulling Mel on top of him. Now that he’s calmed down he wants to sleep again. There’s still a few hour until morning, but he knows that there’s no way he’ll get any sleep on the bed.
Melinda huffs when he tugs her, but he can feel a small smile against his neck and he concentrates on that.
“My nightmares are the same. I usually dream about losing you. Again,” she finally confesses sleepily against him, and if Andrew hugs her tighter well, he can’t help it. He lost her so many times too.
“You won’t. Not this time. Not again,” he promises.
“Not again,” she echoes, and for now, it’s enough.
