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The quiet of dawn. The room blurred with sleep. The first ray of light through gossamer curtains.
Caitlin blinked and sighed. The dream she’d just inhabited took a few moments to dissipate from the shadows of the room. Vestiges of an old nightmare—a kidnapping, a dark cell, blue lightning, a scarred face, her cold anger—flitted across the landscape of her subconscious, but the anxiety of the nightmare eased when she felt the warmth of the sleeping body beside her. Those dreams were just dreams now. She was not that woman anymore, and that was not her life anymore.
Her life nowadays was this: a quiet morning with Barry sleeping, breathing, beside her. There were countless other moments that made up her life, but this was a defining moment. This moment reminded her that they were safe, together, happy.
Caitlin turned to her side so she could face her husband’s sleeping face. For the longest time, the only version of Barry she knew was him asleep, and it took her awhile to get used to how animated he was when he was awake. She loved both versions of him—she loved all versions of him—but this version of him made her nostalgic. She remembered the first time she met him. The time she took care of his prone form, first out of obligation, and then with genuine affection. How she talked to him in his sleep, so he wouldn’t get lonely. How she made inferences on what kind of person he was based on his features. Kind, she thought. Quick to smile, and quick to make others smile. Unable to tolerate anyone else’s suffering. And, from the way his family worried about him, a person who loved and protected his family fiercely.
She was right, of course, and it didn’t take long for her to fall in love with him, but it took him much longer to fall in love with her. People always thought otherwise, since he was more demonstrative of his affection, but it was true. She loved him even when he was with Linda, Patty, Iris; she never expected him to give her the love he gave them, and accepted whatever place in his life she could have. When he finally realized he was in love with her, a year after he broke off his engagement with Iris, he’d almost gone crazy with the knowledge—How could I have not known, Cait, it’s you, it’s always been you, you’re the one I’ve wanted all this time—and, in response, she’d just smiled and pressed a kiss on his lips to calm him down.
“Are you confessing to me, Barry?” she’d asked.
“Oh, actually, I was supposed to ask you out in a very cool and manly way. In an Oliver-esque way, to be precise,” he’d said sheepishly. “Although I guess if you want it to be a confession then it can be a confession.”
“I’d take a Barry-esque confession over an Oliver-esque date any day,” she’d said, and he laughed and pulled her into a tight hug.
“God,” he’d said, melting into her embrace. “I’m such an idiot, Cait.”
“Don’t worry,” she’d said. “I’ll have you anyway.”
That was a year ago. She’d loved him for five years, four of those in silence. It was no wonder how she still sometimes felt that her life with him was unreal. But seeing him like this, sleeping beside her, and juxtaposing this image with the one in her memory of his prone form all those years ago, made her believe that her life now was real. That he was real, and that he was hers.
His eyelids fluttered open and she quickly drew her hand back, unconscious of the way she’d been tracing his features the entire time.
“Sorry,” she whispered, as he blinked blearily at her. “I woke you. Go back to sleep, Barry.”
He yawned and burrowed his face in his pillow. “What time is it?”
“Not yet six.”
“Six?” he groaned. “I’ve never even seen six before. No, Cait, don’t go.”
“It’s time for me to get up,” she said gently, placing a quick kiss on his neck. “Go back to sleep.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” He flung an arm around her waist just before she could pull away from him, and for someone who was only half-asleep he had a surprising amount of strength. “I won’t go back to sleep unless you come back to bed.”
“I have things to do.”
“At six in the morning? God, you’re an early monster.”
“Early monster?”
“Yes. Like an early bird but a monster. Normal human beings are burned by pre-noonday sun, so if you get up at six you can’t be human. Thus you’re an early monster. Did you know that I thought birds were herbivores until I found out worms were essentially meat? My life is a lie, Cait. Birds are carnivores. They’re vicious and deceitful. We’ll never have a pet bird, ever.”
It was ridiculous how much he still talked even when he was half-asleep. His words were slow and thick with that rough morning slur of his, but he still talked almost as much as he did when he was awake—and made as little sense, too.
“So in this case,” she said, “I’m the early bird-slash-monster, and you’re the worm?”
He burrowed into her neck with a contented sigh. His next words were muffled. “Will you stay in bed if I’m the worm?”
She laughed. “I think the worm isn’t giving me much of a choice. He’s smothering me.”
“I’m not smothering you.”
“You are. Let up, Barry.”
“Nooo. Your tricks”—he yawned—“won’t fool me. You just want to escape.”
“And you just want a pillow.”
He gave her a sleepy smile. “Guilty as charged.”
“Come on, let up. I’ll get your pillows from the floor and you can go back to sleep.”
“But you’re a much better pillow.” He slid his legs between hers until they were entirely wrapped around each other. “Rather have you than the other pillows. You’re the only pillow for me in the whole wide world.”
“…Thanks,” she said dryly. She glanced at the wall clock, and then at the head of messy brown hair that she’d begun to smoothen compulsively. It was rare that Barry stirred when she woke, and it was very amusing to see him in this state, so maybe staying a few more minutes in bed wasn’t such a bad idea.
“If you look at the clock one more time,” he mumbled, “I’ll swear you’re having an affair with it.”
She smiled. “Someone has to,” she said. “One of us doesn’t have super-speed, after all.”
“Excuses,” he said. His eyes were beginning to close. “What’s wrong with spending five more minutes in bed with your husband? Hmm?”
“Five minutes in bed with you means three more hours in bed with you.”
“Again”—another yawn—“what’s wrong with that?”
She smiled. “Sleepy?”
“Mmm.”
“Want another five minutes in bed?”
“Mmm.”
“Okay.”
“Mmm.” And then, “Okay as in, you’ll stay?”
“Five minutes,” she allowed. “My five minutes.”
He gave her a sleepy smile. “Sure.”
“Sleep well, Barry.”
He fell back asleep in five minutes, but Caitlin, against her word, stayed in for another twenty. By the time she extricated herself from his grip, the sun was already up, and despite the late start, she already knew that it was going to be a beautiful day.