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He would never admit it, but, sometimes, Dirk Strider needed to be picked up and pieced together, just like Roxy. Of course, she was the only one who really knew it, the only one who understood.
They were positioned on the couch, her legs crossed and his head on her thigh. Her glass was set on the side-table, next to his shades, temporarily forgotten while she pet his hair. She was giggling breathily and making comments on how he was like a cat.
The ghost of a smile made his lips twitch, amber eyes looking into her pink. He informed her in far too many words that she was drunk, causing more giggles. He always liked to make her giggle, make her laugh. She was much prettier when she was smiling. She was always beautiful, of course, but he liked it best when she smiled.
Her giggling faded, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.
His eyes closed as her fingers ghosted over his nose, his cheeks, his lips. He didn’t even bother to hide the smile this time, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles.
“Thanks, Princess,” he mumbled against them.
“Any time, Dirksie,” she responded, a small smile on her pink lips, voice quiet. “Roxy-foxy’s always gonna... gonna be here for ya, y’know?”
“Yeah. I know, Rox.” He sighed, barely audible, and they were silent again, relaxed.
She continued threading her fingers through his gelled hair, not minding the stickiness despite how she wrinkled her nose and complained, her manicured nails scratching at his scalp gently.
He was breathing steadily, drifting off into a nap. He felt the soft press of her lips upon his forehead, as she was wont to do. He smiled, kissing her wrist in return. He was asleep in no time.
She didn’t take long to follow, relaxed into the couch and feeling loved and comfortable and warm.
This was safe. Dirk could show Roxy things nobody else could see, and she would take care of him, just like how he took care of her. That was how they worked. That was their arrangement, their friendship, their love.
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