Her alarm had gone off at still too early to even be alive o'clock, and she'd wrinkled her nose and buried her face in her pillow, even as she gropped on the bed table to make the blaring noise stop. It was pitch dark, and she had actually been halfway back to oblivion when a forehead pressed into the back of her shoulder and part of her neck, sleep-thick breath ghosting against bare skin, "You'll be late again."
There was a huffed-groan of exasperation into her pillow, even as she knew he was right. She loved both her jobs, enough she was willing to put up with things like this, but it still took creative scheduling and ungodly hours sometimes. There was a chuckle behind her, that she could translate without language guides. He knew she didn't want to miss it, even if she didn't want to get up either. That this side of her frustration was better than the other one.
It was Sunday. Sunday's should be for sleeping in. At least for sleeping until the sun rose. Or was anywhere near rising. She let out an over-exaggerated sigh and slid her arm under her to push up. Words quiet and as much to her, as toward him. "Fine. I'm up, I'm up." Trying to will her eyes to want to be open and her eyelids to stop feeling like lead weights. "A shower, and I'll leave some coffee warming for when you get up."
The noise from the otherside of the bed could have as much been committal, if he was still awake, as it could have been just a mimicked noise to hers, if he'd already fallen back to sleep. She wanted even ten more minutes, but she pushed herself up to standing and went to do just what she said she had. Wandering through the dark bedroom and bathroom without lights, until a door was closed between them. It was easier once the cold shower started. Villainous cruelty, but a fast, full wakeup call for all her nerves.
Everything was a bit easier after that. Getting clean, all efficiently. Getting dressed, silently in the dark. Drinking enough coffee to float this familiar, and eternally, wrong side of four am. If she'd known the call she'd get halfway to her destination, she wouldn't have had so much coffee.
But as it is, when Luther gets up, he'll find a surprise that isn't coffee. Curled into a corner of the couch, studying the day's newspaper with a pen.
Mask or Menace ☂ January 2020; Capes & Cowls AU Plot
There was a huffed-groan of exasperation into her pillow, even as she knew he was right. She loved both her jobs, enough she was willing to put up with things like this, but it still took creative scheduling and ungodly hours sometimes. There was a chuckle behind her, that she could translate without language guides. He knew she didn't want to miss it, even if she didn't want to get up either. That this side of her frustration was better than the other one.
It was Sunday. Sunday's should be for sleeping in. At least for sleeping until the sun rose. Or was anywhere near rising. She let out an over-exaggerated sigh and slid her arm under her to push up. Words quiet and as much to her, as toward him. "Fine. I'm up, I'm up." Trying to will her eyes to want to be open and her eyelids to stop feeling like lead weights. "A shower, and I'll leave some coffee warming for when you get up."
The noise from the otherside of the bed could have as much been committal, if he was still awake, as it could have been just a mimicked noise to hers, if he'd already fallen back to sleep. She wanted even ten more minutes, but she pushed herself up to standing and went to do just what she said she had. Wandering through the dark bedroom and bathroom without lights, until a door was closed between them. It was easier once the cold shower started. Villainous cruelty, but a fast, full wakeup call for all her nerves.
Everything was a bit easier after that. Getting clean, all efficiently. Getting dressed, silently in the dark. Drinking enough coffee to float this familiar, and eternally, wrong side of four am. If she'd known the call she'd get halfway to her destination, she wouldn't have had so much coffee.
But as it is, when Luther gets up, he'll find a surprise that isn't coffee.
Curled into a corner of the couch, studying the day's newspaper with a pen.