Wearing the Shoes that Fit You - Fan Fiction Eminem

Miracle

Morena POV

The warmth from Marshall's body seeped into my system as my eyes fluttered open. There were no two ways about it:  this man was a miracle. 

Two days after Greg had been reassigned to another detail, a package had been delivered to Lee for me. It contained the bloodied remains of what appeared to be roadkill. Unfortunately, because of how it had been sent, there wasn't really a good way to track it. The police had logged it in their box of evidence on my case, but couldn't do anything else. I'd been warned to be aware of my surroundings and to call if something happened. 

I hadn't slept more than forty minutes at a time since then. Although I'd wanted to keep running, my security team didn't think it wise. I hadn't been holed up in the house the whole time, but it had been a near thing. Without the benefit of physical exhaustion from exercise, my mind had picked up double shifts in creating boogeymen. It's amazing what sleeplessness and fear can do to the imagination.

Last night, however, I'd somehow fallen asleep in Marshall's lap. A man that I barely knew, whom I'd believed I'd never see again, and I'd found such solace in his arms that I'd slept for hours. He should bottle that magic and sell it; he'd be a billionaire.

Turning, I looked into his sleep-relaxed face. When he was awake, he seemed to strive for a particular look. I'd caught him fighting a smile more than once, as if he didn't allow himself to do it that very often. I wondered at the control he exercised over himself, but I hadn't asked. It didn't really feel my place.  Right now, though, in contrast to his usual, intentionally bland expression, his face was peaceful. He was so very handsome.

Unable to stop myself, I raised my right hand up to his jaw. His beard was wiry,  kept too short to be soft. His chin had a slight dip to it, which the pad of my finger traced. I smiled as he grumbled, his eyes crinkling a little as his brow puckered.

"Too early," he muttered, his eyes meeting mine. My smile turned to a grin; I was taken by his grouchy awakening.

"Can I keep you?" I asked softly. His eyes widened and I chuckled.

"Not all the time, I swear," I vowed.  "But I haven't slept that well in two weeks and you stop by out of the blue and I get a full night. You're like a non-prescription sleep aid," I explained. Marshall nodded and raised a hand to the spot just below my eyes.

"You had shadows," he noted. I nodded, feeling my smile fall a little.

"It's been a rough couple of weeks," I returned. His eyes took in everything as he nodded.

Sometime in the evening, he'd moved us to my bed. I'd been so out of it that I hadn't even woken. At present, we lie on top of my comforter and all I could think of was how lovely it felt to have actually rested.

"You had to get more guys," Marshall prodded.

"You didn't tell me why last night," he continued. "And, you've stopped running."

"You're such a cute stalker," I teased, bringing my hand back up to poke him lightly in the nose. He gave me an unimpressed look and I sighed and let myself sink into the mattress more.

"I mentioned that the descriptions have been graphic," I said softly and he nodded. "A couple days after we talked, a dead animal was sent to me, care of my lawyer."

Marshall tensed, his eyes darkening as he looked at me. He shook his head and then reached out, pulling me into him. My head snuggled into his neck, I smiled. I had no idea what cologne he wore, but it was lovely.

"How can you be smiling?" Marshall rumbled. I giggled and shook my head, nuzzling at his neck. We'd only had one date, but I'd missed him. I felt lighter when he was around.

"Because I'm giddy over having slept," I answered, which was at least half true. I might be rusty on the whole dating thing, but I wasn't so far removed that I was silly enough to tell him that he was the human embodiment of a fudge brownie. He'd really think I was nuts, if I did.

"Do the police have any leads?" he questioned, leaving my happy mood aside for the moment. I shook my head, still buried in his neck. We hadn't kissed each other, so I wasn't certain it would be permissible to taste it, though I really wanted to. His skin was so close.

"No," I said aloud. "But, they have a giant evidence box that will put someone behind bars once they find me in pieces all over Michigan," I grouched.

On T.V., police always had seventeen million ways of tracking a person down and then bringing them to justice. Apparently, real life wasn't like that. I had a bone or two to pick with Jerry Bruckheimer.

"Don't say that shit," Marshall demanded, pulling back to look at me sternly. His face was angry, but his eyes were concerned.

"Yes, sir," I responded cheekily.

Call me ridiculous, but him being here - holding me - was overriding any sense of reality that there was. My heart was filled with helium right now. Even Marshall couldn't bring me down;  unless he left, that was. Marshall shook his head as he looked at me, his brow cocked.

"Are you seriously this much of a morning person?" he asked. "Because that shit might be a problem for us," he groused and I laughed.

Unable to stop myself, I pushed his shoulders and straddled his hips as I looked down at him. His hands came to rest on my hips as he looked up at me, his expression a little bemused. I hadn't felt so free in so long and it left me feeling almost drunk.

Leaning forward, I bent to his ear and kissed behind it softly. Marshall's hands tightened on me as his breathing picked up. I smiled into him, speaking quietly into his ear.

"I like the idea of an 'us'," I admitted.

Marshall's hands moved, wrapping around me more firmly while he rolled, taking control as he stopped above me. His eyes were beautiful as they looked at me seriously. I raised a hand to trace over his brows, smiling as I did.

"I have a temper," he said when our gazes met once more. "And I'm territorial," he continued. "I get bossy and have a foul mouth and I'll sometimes expect you to read my fucking mind, even when there's no way you could." I nodded and licked my lips.

"I'm not who I used to be," I confessed. "You bring the old me out - the cheerful, confident one - but I've been through a lot in a short time and it's made me dry and cynical. I have walls, and I don't know if they're permanent," I explained. Marshall nodded and a half smile graced his lips.

"I know what it's like to have walls," he said. "Have you ever heard of Eminem?"