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I wake up slowly, again. I've been drifting in and out of sleep for over an hour now.
After the stress of last year, it feels glorious being able to spend a lazy Sunday morning in bed. Made even more glorious by the fact that my husband is right here in bed with me.
Even though he has been back for a few weeks now, I still often pause in the middle of a thought or action, just to marvel at the fact that we get to be together again.
Inadvertently I think back to those many cold and restless nights on which I cried myself to sleep, thinking I'd never see him again, not without an impenetrable barrier between us. Back then, I thought that I'd never get to hold him in my arms again.
Without conscious thought my arms tighten around my husband.
I'm laid on my back, head resting comfortably on my favourite pillow.
Some time during the early hours of the morning, Oliver wound up with his head gently resting on my chest. Both his legs are thrown on top of mine and while one arm is tugged away to one side, the other encircles me.
In turn, both my arms are pressing his chest firmly into mine.
I give him a gentle squeeze, knowing he has been awake for a while now.
It looks like he is fully covering me, a big Oliver-sized blanket. And how can it not look like that with the height and size difference between us?
But with how he is holding on to me and how my arms hug him to my chest, it's me who is the rock right now, providing all the comfort that I can after the week he's had - the week we’ve had, because there is no more him and me, just us.
I have him wrapped tightly in a hug of protection, providing him with a safe haven - a luxury he didn’t have all those months in prison.
Finally, we are on the same page again and more in love than ever. What we went through wasn't easy, but we persevered, repaired the rift between us and proved once again why we are a great team. We’ve come out better than ever on the other side and with a bond forged stronger as a result.
Soothingly I start running my fingers through his still-too-short hair. Slowly, my fingers wander down to his cheeks, gently rubbing the scruff that is exactly the perfect length this morning.
I hear his soft, nearly imperceptible sigh as I feel him relaxing further into my chest.
He really is like a big cat, he can be dangerous and lethal, but also so gentle and cuddly in the privacy of our home.
I smile, thinking about what the world might say, seeing the Green Arrow wrapped up in the arms of a tiny blonde IT girl. But I don't care what anyone else might say.
This is our relationship - a partnership of equals.
Sometimes he is the strong one, holding me up, and sometimes I'm the glue that holds him together. We lift each other up and only together we are the very best versions of ourselves.
Absentmindedly my fingers begin to trace the familiar patterns of my husband's marked flesh, knowing exactly which scars are particularly sensitive and paying special attention to them, knowing how much he likes it.
Warming sun rays slowly peak into our bedroom and as seconds pass into minutes, I can feel the tension in my husband’s body release further.
I love how we can so often communicate without words, instead using touch, deliberate movements and caresses to convey so much meaning.
The only word spoken this morning, is Oliver’s soft sigh of, “Felicity”.
I love how he says my name, how he can convey such a depth of emotion and a whole story of appreciation and devotion with just the four syllables of my name.
As I continue to run my fingers across his skin, he wiggles as if trying to snuggle even closer.
But it’s for naught, because we are already as close as two human beings can be.