The Malevolent Shrine

“Of course, Suku.” You chuckle, moving your hand down to caress his face. He hears that you don’t take him seriously and at any other time he’d prove his point. But he’s too tired to do anything, he can’t even raise his voice. He’s drifting off. “You know, when I first met you I was terrified of you, but seeing you like this…”

“I’m scary.” His speech comes out slurred, barely comprehensible. You laugh. The big scary monster is napping on your lap, claiming that he isn’t tired. 

Your hand stops moving, resting on his cheek which interrupts his flow. He grabs your wrist, moving the fixed hand for you. He wouldn’t say it in his right mind, but he’s half-asleep, “You’re soft.”

“Is that what gets you sleepy, Suku?” You question, and he hums in response. You smirk, loving the drowsy side of your husband. He’s too worn out to put up the mean front that usually accompanies him. 

“And you’re warm.” He adds, and you smile. It’s rare to find him so honest, so you’ll appreciate every second of it. “You smell nice too.”