sokeefe oneshots

Nightmares

Sophie had no idea when the nightmares had come back, and why they even had, but she knew one thing, and that was that she was absolutely not telling Keefe.

If she told Keefe, he would start worrying, and that wasn't what he needed. He would wonder when they had started and what they were, and then he might be mad, because as much as Sophie didn't want to admit it, but they had been happening for months on end, they were definitely getting worse. Keefe had enough going on right now. She wasn't going to throw this on him.

It had been months since she had last gotten a peaceful night of sleep, and she usually woke up shivering in the night -- or crying -- or both.

And sedatives were not an option.

"You okay, Foster?" Keefe asked her as she stumbled into the kitchen after showering one morning. "You look like you've been in a fight with your pillow."

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Keefe raised an eyebrow at her as he walked over to the table across from her, sitting down two mugs of frothy cinnacreme.

"You know if something's up, you can tell me, right?"

"Oh- no!" Sophie assured him, "It's not that I can't tell you -- I mean, but nothing's going on. So there's nothing to tell... but it's not that..." she stopped and looked him in the eyes, trying to ignore the look they were giving her. "really."

"Foster, your emotions are spiking, and it's not really convincing." Keefe lowered his voice. "Is there anything going on at work or something?"

"No, Keefe." Sophie told him, getting up from the table, not able to eat. "Everything is fine. I promise."

Keefe sighed, and leaned back in his chair, looking up at her almost sadly.

"I'm... going to go get ready for work." Sophie decided quietly, looking down so she wouldn't have to see his expression. She didn't want him to think that she didn't want to tell him, or that she was hiding anything, or absolutely not that she didn't love him... but she just couldn't tell him this.

Keefe stood up too.

"Nope." He walked over and grabbed her hand, dragging her over to the couch and flopping them both down on the cushions. "You," he told her, "aren't going anywhere until you tell me what's going on. You can't lie to the empath, Foster. When will you figure that out?"

She sighed and met his eyes, crossing her arms and giving him a 'really-I'm-fine' grin.

"I'm not lying. It's just been a hard week. I need to get to work though, Keefe." She kissed his cheek and tried to stand up, but Keefe was too quick, and pulled her down again, not missing a beat.

"You aren't tricking the empath!" He exclaimed. "You're acting like I don't even know you, and you probably just don't want to burden me with your problems, but you have to face the fact that your problems are my problems too."

Sophie cracked a grin. "Well yeah, my emotions are literally your emotions."

The joke didn't lighten his expression. His eyes glared at her like daggers. "Foster. Spill. The. Tea."

"Keefe, nothing's up, and I need you to trust me." She told him, looking anywhere but his eyes, knowing that she might crack and actually spill the problem. "I need to go get ready for work."

She got up, and this time, he didn't pull her back. He didn't move either, just sat there and stared at something that Sophie couldn't find.

She ran up to their bedroom, closing the door, and leaning against it when she was a safe enough distance that he couldn't hear her. Or hopefully not feel her feelings either.