• HUMAN AU •
About an hour before dawn, Keefe awoke to a stifled cry. It wasn't loud, nor was it particularly close, but wasn't a deep enough sleeper to miss such a noise.
"Foster?" He lazily reached to the opposite side of the bed, searching for his wife's hand but only finding air. It wasn't irregular for them to wake up separate, but Sophie always fell asleep snuggled into his chest. If she somehow escaped his arms, Keefe would pull her back to him, nestling her against him.
But this morning, Sophie was missing.
Sitting up, Keefe fought a groan. It was too early, and far too cold, to be exploring the household. Thankfully, only seconds after he stood up, he found his wife curled into a ball at the foot of the bed. Her shaking arms were wrapped around herself.
"Sweetie?" Keefe whispered, using her favorite endearment to address her feeble state. When she didn't respond he slid to the floor beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Did you have a nightmare?"
Sophie folded herself into him and shook lightly, the tremors taking over her.
"I'll take that as a yes." He rested his chin on her head.
She was cold, and he contemplated over whether it would be better to bring her a blanket or just continue holding her. Eventually he settled on the latter.
"Do you want the lights on?" he asked, running a hand through her soft blonde hair.
Sophie nodded against his chest. Keefe figured she didn't want him to let her go, so he simply scooped her up and carried her over to the light switch, where he flooded their bedroom with buttery yellow light.
Sophie dropped from his arms, landing unsteadily on her feet. Worried she couldn't support herself, Keefe held her hostage against his chest. Whether she wanted it or not, he knew his warmth would be beneficial.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked, leading her to the back of the room. The lights were brighter there, and the loveseat in the corner was where he intended to cuddle her until she felt better.
"I didn't want to bother you."
He kissed her between the eyebrows. "You never bother me, Foster."
Sophie just stared at the floor.
In Keefe's year of experience being her husband, she'd only had a few nightmares; clearly time had mended her pain. But when they did come, they knew no limits on how to traumatize her.
"Sophie." Keefe led her to the furniture and pulled her into his arms, half in his lap. "Look at me."
She tried — she really did. But her big brown eyes were welling with so many tears he doubted she could see correctly.
"It's okay. Cry it out." Keefe hugged her around her waist, silently cursing the world for hurting his very favorite person.
Sophie did cry. She sobbed, in fact, her face embedded in his shoulder, soaking his shirt with tears. It took awhile — and by awhile, Keefe meant a long time — but eventually her eyes cleared and her cries faded into hiccups.
"Want to tell me about it?" Keefe asked.
"You won't like it," Sophie warned. The words were followed by a sniffle.
"I can't say I've liked any nightmare you've had," he said. "Spill."
She buried her face in her hands. "It's ridiculous. It shouldn't have bothered me so much —"
"Tell me."
Sophie nestled her face in his chest as she whispered, "You left."
Keefe stilled. "What do you mean, I left?"
Her cries invaded the air. "You left me."
"Oh." For a moment, Keefe turned his eyes from his wife and stared out the window. Dawn was just leaking over the horizon, and the light provided him with an inkling of reassurance to this situation. "Sophie, I —"
"Promise me," she interrupted, taking his face in her hands, "you'll never leave me. I want you to call me by my last name for the rest of my life. I want you to tease me and I want to wake up in your arms every day." Her voice broke. "I want you. I — I want you forever."
Keefe took a few seconds to fully absorb her words before he leaned down to gently bump their foreheads. "I promise, Foster."
Sophie exhaled, and another tear slipped down her face.
"Hey." Keefe scooped an arm around her waist. He pulled her close, both to examine her face and to wipe the moisture away. "You're crying again. Why?"
"I'm cold."
Keefe laughed. Even Sophie's lips twitched into a smile, though she still sniffled.
"Go get into bed," he told his wife, helping her to her feet. "I'll get you my sweatshirt."
Sophie stared down at the goosebumps assaulting her forearms before she complied. Keefe, making sure she was settled in a comfortable position, began scrounging for his sweatshirt. He had quite a few, actually, but Sophie tended to steal them with a no-return policy.
After a minute of searching — and possibly getting distracted by Sophie's soft breathing — he found a sweatshirt draped over his nightstand.
He slipped in beside her and then proceeded to help her put it on. Sophie ducked her head and tugged it over the t-shirt she already wore. It was Keefe's, of course; she seemed to have a bad habit of stealing his shirts.
"Thank you," she whispered, snuggling into the soft material.
"I'm never getting it back, am I?"
She smiled, cuddling up to his chest. "Nope."