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When he found you sleeping on the couch, the clothes you were wearing that morning still draped over your form and crumpled, he knew you’d had a bad day. Usually you’d be changed into pyjamas or one of his shirts by now. Although it was well past midnight, you were usually still very much awake when he came through the front door. But here you were, fast asleep on the couch in your daytime clothes. It was an adorable sight.
Two empty plates cluttered the coffee table in front of you. He knew there would be a cellophane-covered plate for him sitting on the kitchen table too if he cared to look. But he couldn’t have cared less about food right now.
Robbie hadn’t been home yet that day. Instead he heeded the Rider’s demands and went out on the hunt from the moment he finished work. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door next to yours and Gabe’s. As the jacket slipped from his tired shoulders, the stress of the day did too.
Now, finally, he was home.
In the darkness, he relied on the deeply embedded memory of the house's layout to stop himself from bumping into anything. So many night sneaking out from beneath his uncle’s nose as a teen had prepared him for this. He knew each floorboard that creaked, each piece of furniture he might stub his toe on. All of this too avoid rousing you or his little brother from slumber.
He risked waking Gabe just to make sure he was alright. He twisted the bedroom door handle and let it open just a crack, there he saw his baby brother content and sleeping soundly. Golden street light streamed through the blinds and illuminated his soft face and the floppy hair that rustled in the breeze of his sleeping breath. His wheelchair sat at the bedside, piled high with school books he must’ve cleared from his bed in a rush of sudden drowsiness. Content, he closed the door behind him with a soft click and then turned his attention back to you.
He was glad you hadn’t waited up. He didn’t want you losing sleep over him. But the position and clothes you were in had to be uncomfortable. You’d definitely wake up cold and with a sore neck if he just left you there draped over the couch cushions. That’s what he told himself to justify gathering you into his arms and carrying you through to bed. In reality, he just couldn’t sleep without you - without knowing you were there beside him and safe.
Your very presence was a comfort and an anchor to him and he knew he’d miss you too much to sleep, even if you were just in the next room. He would never forget just how cold the sheets felt after the first night you’d spent there in his bed all wrapped up in his arms. It wasn’t just the company of another that he adored but also the way you snuggled into him like a stray cat to a rug beneath a roaring fire. Your soft touches were fresh air to him. The next night he spent alone, his bed suddenly felt too big, too empty and so painfully cold. Since then, he’s never been able to sleep well without you and despised the thought of even having to try.
“Robbie?” You croaked, feeling that distinct, unmistakable warmth radiating from him and seeping into your skin. “You okay?”
You stirred just as he pushed the bedroom door open - awakened by the hinge’s unoiled creak. After bringing a curled fist to rub your eyes, it was impossible to distinguish his features in the darkness but you knew him by his demeanour and touch alone. No one else you’d ever met smelled so distinctly like ash and motor oil or moved like he carried the weight of a thousand struggles on his back. No one else felt like home the way that Robbie did to you.
“Yeah, baby, I’m alright… better now I’m with you. Are you alright?” He answered softly with a press of his lips to your forehead followed by the gentle scrape of the hair on his upper lip. When you made a sound of disgruntlement at his question, he faltered, “Long day?”
“Longest I’ve had in a while. Can’t believe I fell asleep before you got home.” Usually your worry kept you up more than anything else. No matter how many times he came home in one piece you always worried.
“Lemme kiss it better then we’ll get you back to sleep, huh?” He set you down on the mattress and you yawned as soon as your back knew the plush mattress below.
You hummed. “I should probably get out of these clothes first.”
“I can help with that.”
He started with your shirt. Each undone plastic button exposed a fresh inch of your skin to the cool night air as he went. He let his eyes close as his warm lips pressed against your bare shoulder, the base of your neck, then the centre of your chest. His lips were void of all except appreciation and care. You laughed quietly as he undressed you so gently. Usually Robbie shimmying off your trousers meant an entirely different ordeal to this. But tonight he was just trying to get you comfortable enough to be able to rest with him.
He barely bothered kicking off his own trousers before getting into bed, much more concerned with wrapping his hoodie around your shoulders when he felt your slight shiver. He lay down beside you and in the dark you reached for him immediately, to feel his warm skin on yours. His arm wound around your waist then curled up your back to press you close to him. You found his cheek and he leaned into that precious, treasured touch. Being home with your hands on him after a night letting the Rider take over was the best medicine he could ever ask for. He thought it was more than he deserved.
“Mmhmm. I missed you.” You threw your arms around his shoulders and hugged his head close to your chest.
“I missed you too.” He replied, enjoying your embrace for a moment. You tried to enjoy it too but as you swiped your thumb over his cheek you felt the unmistakable raised and bumpy ridge of a gash entrenched into his skin.
“What’s this?” You questioned.
“It’s nothing, baby. Let’s just get you back to sleep.” His hand covered yours, turning your palm to press a single chaste kiss to it.
He needed so desperately to calm your worries but he should’ve known that wouldn’t work. Tiredness radiated off him in droves; It thickened his voice and weighed down his limbs. He just wanted to let the mattress swallow him whole, to rest here with you forever, but you had to know he was alright.
“Robbie…” your voice held a tinge of warning.
He sighed, knowing you wouldn’t let it slide and he couldn’t blame you for that. If you came home with so much as a scratch on you he’d want names and addresses - and that was even before he was possessed by a spirit of vengeance. His stomach knotted at the memory of Quake only a few hours ago. How she’d all but begged him to kill her but the Rider didn’t seem to think she deserved to pay her penance just yet. “Some powered chick was snooping around Canello’s looking for the charger. We had a uh…disagreement, and she punched me in the face.”
You broke out of his grasp and flicked the bedside lamp on to get a better look. Harsh light flooded the room and you both winced at the sudden brightness but the irritation at the bright light was soon replaced with worry. “She did that? With one punch?” You asked, examining his battered cheek.
It was just a small gash with some bruising surrounding it. Nothing to worry about, really. But the fact that it had yet to heal was strange and more than a little concerning. Robbie bleeds just like anybody else but the blood he came home covered in wasn’t ever usually his own thanks to how quickly the demon heals him. That woman must’ve packed one hell of a punch. It was nothing like you’d ever seen him recovering from before. You had yet to see a scratch on him that wouldn’t fade within an hour until now.
“Yeah, she was strong. But vida, you should go back to sleep. It’s late. You don’t ever gotta worry about me.” He's whispering so as not to startle you any more, thumb running over your chin as he looks up at you with his deep, endless brown eyes that almost pleaded with you to believe him.
"I always worry about you,” you replied honestly. Because of course you did, how couldn’t you? He might have been invulnerable by any reasonable standard but you dreaded the day he encountered something that the Rider couldn’t heal. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?"
Robbie swallowed thickly and shook his head before telling you something that almost made your eyes water.
"Nah. Just you."
All he wanted was you here in his arms and in his bed. With the softness and desperation in his eyes, you believed him. You flicked off the bedside lamp and settled back down in his arms. He thumbed your hip and tugged you closer with a touch so soft for such well-worked hands. You all but melted into him, into his chest, into the faint smell of burn and blood, and the comfort that he brought.
You let your hand rest on his chest as you often did. It was a sweet habit of yours, one which Robbie loved. But tonight things were a little different. You slid your hand down the soft burgundy cotton of his shirt before letting your fingers dive beneath the hem and graze just above his belly button. Your palm splayed out, rising with each slow breath he took. He wasn’t sure what comfort you derived from touching him like that but the touch grounded him, brought him back to Earth again from wherever he was floating that night, untethered. He needed your skin on his as tree roots needed soil and sunlight. That touch made him feel human again, like maybe the weight he carried wasn’t so heavy after all.