Sleep comes rarely to Frederick Abberline, at least not without smoking out beforehand. Yet somehow this is the second afternoon in a row that he found himself slowly waking up from a legitimate stretch of sleep that wasn't riddled with incoherent nightmares. He was sure he'd been dreaming, but he can't remember what about. It must not have been important.
There's fingers in his hair, over his scalp. It is, in this moment, the greatest thing ever. He doesn't really want to wake up all the way, so he doesn't, and just shifts a little, pressing against that hand - her hand.
She's allowing this because she's clearly half-delusional. She's indulging him for reasons she can't quite understand and blames it on external factors, as always, namely, being half-awake. But she can't live on that excuse forever, she knows. Still, it's alright for now.
Faye sinks her nails into his hair and scratches them along his scalp, sliding a little bit closer so that this is more easily accomplished. She used to do this to Spike, sometimes, but Faye isn't thinking about that. She's thinking just about this moment, because it's in a a bubble and she doesn't want it to pop.
Mm. Physical affection. Who would have thought that such a little thing could be so comforting. Maybe it's because he's spent so long locked away from anyone and anything. Victoria used to do this, in her own delicate way. It makes him smile internally, to think of Faye in the same context of the woman that taught him what love is.
Oh.
His eyes open, slowly, blinking without being groggy. He remains unfocused, but he's sure she'll see that he's awake now.
Her eyes are half-lidded, mainly to keep out the light, to adjust over time, but she's definitely awake enough to see and know that he's awake. She doesn't stop what she's doing, though, just switches up whatever pattern she'd established to something a bit slower, more circular.
"Hi," she says, and it's lame and he'll probably make a face at her, but she doesn't care, too wrapped up in the moment to give a damn for once about outward appearances and defenses. Faye spent the night looking through his things. The least she can do is give this without her usual brand of defense.
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There's fingers in his hair, over his scalp. It is, in this moment, the greatest thing ever. He doesn't really want to wake up all the way, so he doesn't, and just shifts a little, pressing against that hand - her hand.
Reply
Faye sinks her nails into his hair and scratches them along his scalp, sliding a little bit closer so that this is more easily accomplished. She used to do this to Spike, sometimes, but Faye isn't thinking about that. She's thinking just about this moment, because it's in a a bubble and she doesn't want it to pop.
Reply
Oh.
His eyes open, slowly, blinking without being groggy. He remains unfocused, but he's sure she'll see that he's awake now.
Reply
"Hi," she says, and it's lame and he'll probably make a face at her, but she doesn't care, too wrapped up in the moment to give a damn for once about outward appearances and defenses. Faye spent the night looking through his things. The least she can do is give this without her usual brand of defense.
Reply
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