Nightmares
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Victor and Janet Stein
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: Victor wakes up from a bad dream.
Victor jumps, opens his eyes. He thinks about reaching for his glasses, bur reaches for Janet, instead. The dreams he’s been having are horrendous and usually involve her in some state of dead.
His hands find her relatively quickly and she moans and rolls over.
"Whassit?" she mumbles, thankfully still breathing.
Victor doesn’t answer. Just pulls her to him. She nestles against his chest and rests her hands on his abdomen. He buries his face in her hair. The shampoo of the month smells like lemons and reminds him of Lysol. He doesn’t mind and won’t say anything now, and he holds her as tight as he can without breaking her.
"You okay?" she asks, shifting. The silk…thing she’s wearing hisses against his skin.
"Bad dreams again," he says, simply. It’s not the first time. He’s not told her what he dreams of, though. He doesn’t intend to. It would scare her and there’s no need for that.
She wedges a knee between his thighs, tangling her legs up in his, and slips one hand around to rub his back.
"Dreams’re stupid," she groans.
He pulls the sheets up over them. She’s warm against him and it’s cold outside. The rush of air hardens her nipples, and she shivers. Tries to press closer, but she’s already practically under his skin. He runs his fingers through her hair.
"They are," he agrees. But they certainly can be damned frightening.
He can just see the clock over her shoulder, can barely make out the huge numbers. It’s three-fifteen. He snorts. She makes a gentle noise against his chest.
"No, the faucets are not vomiting black stuff, and we checked to make sure there were no demons buried in the cellar before we bought the place," she tells him.
He tilts her head up and kisses her. It’s short and chaste, but sweeter than sugar, and she smiles at him, brings her hand up to touch his cheek and scratch at his stubble.
"’S jussa stupid dream," she mumbles, back to half asleep. "I’ll chase the monsters away."
He smiles at this and settles down in her arms. Things make so much more sense with her. The monsters are less real. She’s warm and soft and asleep, and her light snores are infectious. He quickly finds his way back to sleep.
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Victor and Janet Stein
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: Victor wakes up from a bad dream.
Victor jumps, opens his eyes. He thinks about reaching for his glasses, bur reaches for Janet, instead. The dreams he’s been having are horrendous and usually involve her in some state of dead.
His hands find her relatively quickly and she moans and rolls over.
"Whassit?" she mumbles, thankfully still breathing.
Victor doesn’t answer. Just pulls her to him. She nestles against his chest and rests her hands on his abdomen. He buries his face in her hair. The shampoo of the month smells like lemons and reminds him of Lysol. He doesn’t mind and won’t say anything now, and he holds her as tight as he can without breaking her.
"You okay?" she asks, shifting. The silk…thing she’s wearing hisses against his skin.
"Bad dreams again," he says, simply. It’s not the first time. He’s not told her what he dreams of, though. He doesn’t intend to. It would scare her and there’s no need for that.
She wedges a knee between his thighs, tangling her legs up in his, and slips one hand around to rub his back.
"Dreams’re stupid," she groans.
He pulls the sheets up over them. She’s warm against him and it’s cold outside. The rush of air hardens her nipples, and she shivers. Tries to press closer, but she’s already practically under his skin. He runs his fingers through her hair.
"They are," he agrees. But they certainly can be damned frightening.
He can just see the clock over her shoulder, can barely make out the huge numbers. It’s three-fifteen. He snorts. She makes a gentle noise against his chest.
"No, the faucets are not vomiting black stuff, and we checked to make sure there were no demons buried in the cellar before we bought the place," she tells him.
He tilts her head up and kisses her. It’s short and chaste, but sweeter than sugar, and she smiles at him, brings her hand up to touch his cheek and scratch at his stubble.
"’S jussa stupid dream," she mumbles, back to half asleep. "I’ll chase the monsters away."
He smiles at this and settles down in her arms. Things make so much more sense with her. The monsters are less real. She’s warm and soft and asleep, and her light snores are infectious. He quickly finds his way back to sleep.