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Something woke Eira in the deep dark quiet of post-midnight, Sol curled up by her pillow but the other side of the bed disheveled and empty. Blinking a few times to clear her eyes, she twisted over to look around the bedroom — also empty. She listened.
Barely audible murmuring slipped past the ajar door to the rest of her apartment. She carefully eased out of bed, earning a grumpy noise from her cat. One of Cullen's old t-shirts fell around her thighs as she padded to the door and peeked out. Cullen himself sat on the couch, outlined in the dark by the ambient city light from the window, hunched with his elbows propped on his knees and forehead against clasped hands.
"In the long hours of the night
When hope has abandoned me,
I will see the stars and know
Your Light remains."
His voice was rough and quiet as he went through the verses of the Chant. She leaned against the door frame, loathe to interrupt his calming prayers, waiting. Nightmares still plagued him, though he usually woke her up with startling. Was this something else?
He paused in his recitations to rub his temples and she straightened, purposefully making noise to announce her presence. Shadowed golden brown eyes met hers when he looked over, watching her approach. "I'm sorry for waking you —"
"Cullen," she said softly, no reproach, just assurances. "Do you need water, some painkillers?"
There was a clear hesitation on his end and the corners of her lips turned up in a smile. "Head massage?"
"Please," he sighed, moving down the cushions.
She tucked one leg up under her and settled sideways on the couch as Cullen laid down, head on a pillow in her lap. "Okay?" she asked, and brushed her fingertips over his forehead when he nodded. Fingertips settled into the tight muscles at his temples and worked in soothing circles, coaxing them to relax with gentle pressure.
They stayed in silence for a time as she rubbed away the tension in his jaw. Eventually her fingers unerringly massaged back to his scalp as she worked, his breathing deepening and body easing.
"Something you want to talk about at therapy?"
It took a moment for Cullen to rouse enough to respond. "Yes. I was dreaming about Kinloch again."
"Dreaming?"
He hummed an affirmation. "Not quite a nightmare."
She hummed back thoughtfully and dug her fingers into a knot on his shoulder that she could just barely reach. He didn't elaborate and she didn't push, knowing he would talk with his therapist at his next appointment. She brought her hands back up, giving his cheek an affectionate brush.
Cullen caught her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her skin. "Thank you."
She traced his lip and smiled down at him, though his eyes were still closed. "Always."
Returning her hands to his scalp, she carded through his disheveled waves, fingers gone soothing now, watching the line of his eyebrows relax. He fell asleep first, chest rising and falling in even breaths. Absently smoothing her hand over his hair, she leaned her head against the back of the couch, knowing she would wake up with neck strain like this, but it was worth it to get him to sleep peacefully.
The smell and sizzle of cooking bacon woke her up. Eira lifted her head and the pillow that had been haphazardly wedged under it fell off the couch as she stretched. Her lap was still occupied, Cullen replaced by Sol, an orange striped ball of fur with his face nestled in the crook of her knee.
She groaned and rubbed at her neck, sore and stiff but manageable. Cullen's head appeared from the galley kitchen, a fond smile quirking up his lips. "I hope you don't mind me commandeering your kitchen."
A sleepy smile answered him. "Commandeer anytime, Commander."
He scoffed and disappeared again, making muffled clanking noises as he rummaged around the cupboards. The sizzling stopped and he stepped out with a cup of steaming tea, carefully handing it to her. "I think I got it right."
A sip confirmed the right balance of sugar and milk and she made a pleased hum. He returned with two plates and silverware, setting them down on the coffee table. "I figure you wouldn't want to move Sol."
She traded her mug for a plate and fork. "I try not to disturb sleeping men in my lap."
Cullen's ears tinged pink. "I'm sorry, it must not have been comfortable for you to sleep like that."
"It's worth it. Besides, I get rewarded with breakfast again." She took a neat bite of bacon before digging into the fluffy scrambled eggs. "When did you learn to cook?"
He washed down his own mouthful with honey-sweetened tea. "As a child, I helped my mother and Mia around the house. And then the military doesn't exactly feed you well. Some learn how to cook on their own to supplement and get some decent food. Sort of self-defense."
"Ah." Sol had woken up and was sniffing the edge of her plate. She raised it a little higher. "I'm not very good at cooking. Or baking. Just enough to feed myself."
Cullen paused in scooping up more eggs onto his fork. "I could teach you. Maybe we could take a cooking class together."
"That sounds lovely and domestic."
"Actually," he cleared his throat a little, suddenly nervous. "I was wondering if, ah, you'd like to move in together."
She stopped and stared at him, fluttering forming in her belly.
His eyes flicked over her face, then down. "I know you don't like to leave Sol for so long to stay at my place, and your apartment is small for two people, but together we could afford somewhere —"
"Yes," she blurted.
"Yes?" A hopeful smile spread over his lips, prettier than the sun rising.
She set her plate on the table and struggled forward on half asleep legs, Sol giving a meow of protest at the movement, to cup Cullen's face in her hands. "Let's go apartment hunting together."
Still smiling, he leaned in to kiss her. Excitement buzzed in her stomach and hope in her heart and his kiss tasted like home.