When she can't sleep at night is when she thinks of him the most. One arm folded under her pillow, cradling her head like it's resting on someone's shoulder, Connie sighs. A chance meeting, only one, but she still misses him in ways she never thought possible. She turns her face toward the soft, yielding cloth and nuzzles the pillow slightly, wishing and pretending and taking just a moment to be a love-struck girl in a soldier's body.
It doesn't last.
A few seconds later, she scoffs at herself, turning onto her back and flopping her legs out, hands coming to rest on her stomach. Way to go, she thinks. It's a serious weakness to be so attached. She curses herself before taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly, again and again until she feels herself being lulled to sleep...
In her dreams, he's a ship's captain, formidable but gentle, well-liked and always obeyed. He has a calm air, always smiles when he's not sternly defending his ideals. He keeps a picture of her in his breast pocket, near his heart, and thinks about her when things are down.
It's kind of disgusting, she thinks.
But it is what it is, her too-active resting mind, and she lets it go.
In her dreams, she's the ideal solider, never missing, never failing, and all he can do when he sees her in combat is to stand in awe and be glad they're on the same side. He defers to her, respects her more than anyone, and even when he's wearing his bars, he will admit that she's the finer of the two of them.
Also disgusting.
But when she wakes and she checks her frown and feels that odd sensation of warmth that you get from sleeping in the exact same position under the exact same blanket all night, she's grateful that she at least sleeps soundly. With him in mind, she knows that things are in better hands than they would be otherwise, that this war can be prevented or won, and that someday, somehow, she'll see him again.
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ninetydegrees
CT x Pillguy | Red vs Blue
30/4/13 02:05 (UTC)It doesn't last.
A few seconds later, she scoffs at herself, turning onto her back and flopping her legs out, hands coming to rest on her stomach. Way to go, she thinks. It's a serious weakness to be so attached. She curses herself before taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly, again and again until she feels herself being lulled to sleep...
In her dreams, he's a ship's captain, formidable but gentle, well-liked and always obeyed. He has a calm air, always smiles when he's not sternly defending his ideals. He keeps a picture of her in his breast pocket, near his heart, and thinks about her when things are down.
It's kind of disgusting, she thinks.
But it is what it is, her too-active resting mind, and she lets it go.
In her dreams, she's the ideal solider, never missing, never failing, and all he can do when he sees her in combat is to stand in awe and be glad they're on the same side. He defers to her, respects her more than anyone, and even when he's wearing his bars, he will admit that she's the finer of the two of them.
Also disgusting.
But when she wakes and she checks her frown and feels that odd sensation of warmth that you get from sleeping in the exact same position under the exact same blanket all night, she's grateful that she at least sleeps soundly. With him in mind, she knows that things are in better hands than they would be otherwise, that this war can be prevented or won, and that someday, somehow, she'll see him again.
no subject
30/4/13 02:11 (UTC)