[ he's nodding before he feels himself doing it, then stops as soon as he realizes it. he reflexively knows she's right--that his team will be okay, okay to be on their own and okay without him watching their every move. they have each other and they know what they're doing. he reminds himself again, echoing her words in his mind: they'll be okay. ]
Yeah, [ he reminds himself again as she shuffles down the covers for him, and the beckoning of bed, rest, and warmth tugs at his every defense. perhaps, just this once, those very defenses aren't so necessary. his chest expands with the deep breath he takes as he rounds the foot of the bed and catches the light switch with a hand. the lights dim to darkness, the sheers draw the city out, and the room is bathed in what is left of the night save for the dull night glow sifting in from the curtains.
he doesn't want to be the one that leaves. not them, not her. not anyone. the mattress dips under his weight as he slides under the sheets in black boxer briefs, an arm reaching out for her as he shuffles close. right now, in this moment, his presence is best used here, by her side, righting the wrongs he had so easily fallen into. he never meant to leave, but in the face of his own fear, he'd done it to her.
I'm sorry [ he says, voice low, barely above a whisper and the quiet hum of the tower. ] You don't need me to protect you, you've told me that before. [ he rolls onto his side to face her, one arm folded under the pillow so he can look at her, the other finding her hand under the sheets. ] I tried to anyway, and look what happened.
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Yeah, [ he reminds himself again as she shuffles down the covers for him, and the beckoning of bed, rest, and warmth tugs at his every defense. perhaps, just this once, those very defenses aren't so necessary. his chest expands with the deep breath he takes as he rounds the foot of the bed and catches the light switch with a hand. the lights dim to darkness, the sheers draw the city out, and the room is bathed in what is left of the night save for the dull night glow sifting in from the curtains.
he doesn't want to be the one that leaves. not them, not her. not anyone. the mattress dips under his weight as he slides under the sheets in black boxer briefs, an arm reaching out for her as he shuffles close. right now, in this moment, his presence is best used here, by her side, righting the wrongs he had so easily fallen into. he never meant to leave, but in the face of his own fear, he'd done it to her.
I'm sorry [ he says, voice low, barely above a whisper and the quiet hum of the tower. ] You don't need me to protect you, you've told me that before. [ he rolls onto his side to face her, one arm folded under the pillow so he can look at her, the other finding her hand under the sheets. ] I tried to anyway, and look what happened.