Work Text:
Creeeeak
“...Fuck.” You groan, touching the washcloth that rests over your eyes that has turned cold while you slept. The throbbing that coursed through your head, from your temple all the way back to your neck, has subsided partially, but not fully.
You are a healthy person, all things considered, but everyone has their weakness, and yours was these damn migraines. When the weather changes, when you don't drink enough water, when you wait up for Vincent one too many nights in a row. Recently, you felt like they had been worse, but today has been particularly bad.
You had kissed Vincent goodbye at around 7:30, just like you always did during the week, sending him on his way into the station and getting to work around the house; putting dishes away, tidying up the living room, you had actually planned on going downtown today to do a little shopping before this headache hit you like a ton of bricks. By 10 o’clock you were stripped out of your clothes, as they were too hot and constrictive on your body, leaving you in your underwear sprawled across the top of the duvet trying to cool down. You didn't want to throw in the towel, but you realized that this was simply an uphill battle that you weren't capable of winning right now.
Sleep. The most effective method of getting rid of the damned things. You said you would sleep it off, be up again by the afternoon to finish up dinner before Vincent could get home. But, by the way your head still pounded, you weren't sure that was going to happen.
“Such a dirty mouth…” A voice across the room chuckles, a voice very familiar to you indeed. Your body tenses at the unexpected noise, peeling the washcloth off your forehead to reveal your dear husband standing in the doorway.
“Vincent?” You squeak, blinking as your eyes adjust to the light shining through the curtains. It definitely wasn't dark enough for him to have been home for the day. “What time is it…?”
“About two.” Vincent replies, pushing off his place in the door frame and walking over to your side of the bed.
“What are you doing home so early?” You ask, a little panicked that something had happened to him or something.
He kneels down near your nightstand, meeting you at eye level as you roll over on your side to face him. “You didn't answer my phone calls, sweetheart… I got worried so I came home to check on you.”
You smile at his thoughtfulness, putting a hand out to touch his face. “I didn't even hear it ring, I’m sorry.”
“Another headache?” He asks, placing his hand over yours.
“Mhm…” You reply, shutting your eyes for a moment to try and stop them from throbbing. “Worst one in a while.”
“I’d feel better if it was morning sickness instead…” You can hear him grin as he pulls his hand away to touch your stomach, which you smack away quickly.
“Oh hush.” You bite your lip so as to not give him the satisfaction. “Go get me another washcloth, will you? Run it under warm water for a few minutes.”
He stands up slowly, eyes flicking down your figure and making you remember you weren't wearing a nightgown. “As you wish, Princess.”
You purse your lips at the sarcasm that drips from his voice, pulling the duvet over your body and turning over to your other side. “Vinny, please, I don't feel well. Save it for when I can fight back.”
He calls out from the bathroom. “That bad, huh?”
“Yes.” You respond, pinching the bridge of your nose.
After a minute or two you hear his footsteps echo across the wood flooring, then the curtains being pulled shut and the room turning much darker. He crosses back to the bed and sits down on the edge, leaning over you and pressing the washcloth gently across your forehead.
“Sorry, babydoll…” He leans down and kisses your cheek. You turn and lay on your back, puckering your lips, causing him to chuckle and kiss you properly. “Anything else I can do for you?”
After a moment, you respond. “Stay?”
You hear him exhale and after he ponders for a moment, “Of course I will.”
He stands from the bed as you hum in agreement, properly tucking yourself in as you hear the sound of his suit rustling. The bed dips and he takes you in his arms, your cheek pressing against his bare chest as you lay up against him.
“Don’t you need to tell them..?” You mumble, your hand finding the crook of his neck.
He kisses the top of your head, “I’ll be alright.”
You yawn and he strokes your back, putting you to sleep just like he did every night.
“I love you, darling.” You whisper.
“I love you too, baby.” He replies.