Work Text:
In the gentle moonlight, a sleepless Sasha turns over, simply just to look at her- still, comfortable, stretched out across the starch-white linens of the hotel bed they share.
An overbooked pit-stop on the most exhausting mission of their mental careers, too tired to put up a fight over a missing bed, and far past the point of putting up walls. A soft headache thrums and throbs against his skull, unable to find any solace in sleep despite how bone-tired he felt, how worn by the days he felt.
Worn by his work.
Worn by everything, but not by her. Sure, everybody else in the world felt like pure agony to speak to, to work with, nails on a chalkboard to his ears, but not her.
Never her.
He studies her here, in the quiet of the night. That same familiar face he sees every day, smiling, laughing, serving almost to tease him in ways he can't seem to wrap his head around.
She's not smiling now, face simply falling blank, that default emptiness of expression, an indication of deep rest. He can't imagine anyone else deserving that special type of divine peace.
He yearns to slip into saccharine rest, to join her in whatever dreams her mind may conjure, but alas, his eyes don't slip shut. They instead comb down her resting form, the soft glow that shines between the blinds accentuating every flawless curve and every dip her shallow breath makes. To touch her, even for a moment, must feel like heaven. He can perfectly picture his well-manicured hand meeting her silken nightgown, drawing her nearer, into his warm embrace- though he could never dream of realizing such a fantasy.
He fears how she might react to something like that, fears all the ways he could possibly ruin what he has with her.
Their professional relationship, their friendship, everything they've built over their many years together.
He couldn't risk that, not for a romantic relationship that he could not promise to maintain.