nightmares — courtland gentry x reader
word count: ~1.2k
summary: after leaving you for a mission, he can't seem to get rid of the nightmares that have been plaguing him. based on this request.
cw/tw: not proofread, mention of marriage, mentions of ptsd/nightmares, use of pet names (doll, honey, my love), angst/hurt, comfort, probably not very good tbh
It was only two weeks after your and Court's wedding before he was pulled away from you.
Thus was the nature of his job—he didn't get to choose when or what his missions were. He would just receive a call with a location and time for pickup and have to be off. He always promised to return home safely, kissing you softly before he's out the door. But this time, his departure hurt a little more. You were freshly married and now he had no choice but to leave and put himself in danger.
"Please come back to me," you plead. You're crying before you realize it.
Court pulls you into him and holds you tightly. Every mission is a risk, which means every time he leaves home is agony for the both of you. "I will, doll. I promise."
It's in the middle of the night five weeks later when you're stirred from your sleep by the mattress dipping on the other side of your bed and the scent of warm amber and gunpowder. You feel his arm snake over your waist as you turn towards him, slotting your head perfectly under his. His lips press to the crown of your head sweetly, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and something so uniquely you that reminds him he's home.
"Missed you," you whispered into his chest sleepily.
He runs his hand up and down your back, pulling you tighter to him and letting out a breath of relief at the feeling of your body pressed against his. "Missed you too, doll."
Court has been quieter than usual since he's returned.
He's always struggled a little with acclimating back to his more domestic life with you; it was a symptom of his job. He spent so much of his life watching his back that safety is a stranger to him. But the silence: the silence is what gets him. It's what sends his mind tumbling into memories of his past, the danger he has no choice but to put himself in, and the fear of losing you.
"Court?" The sound of your voice pulls him from his thoughts as you approach the couch with two mugs of hot tea. You set them down on the coffee table in front of you and kneel on the couch next to him, hands already fussing with his hair. Something you always did to get him to look at you, to pull him back from whatever dark path his brain was submitting him too.
He just stares at you blankly for a moment before you see his eyes zoning in on you, his hands immediately pressing into the dip of your waist to pull you closer to him. "Sorry, doll. I'm here."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He knows you mean the mission. More often than not he likes to avoid saying too much—even though it's never seemed to bother you, he prefers that you not know about that side of him. The brutal side that he's signed over in exchange for a glass prison instead of one behind physical bars.
"It was just hard being away from you this time, that's all." Court pulls you onto his lap, hugging you tightly and resting his face into the crook of your neck. He presses a kiss right to your pulse point. "Just lemme hold you right now, doll."
You can tell he's avoiding indulging you in whatever is bothering him, but you know he'll tell you eventually. You've always been patient with him, especially in his most vulnerable moments. It's something he loves deeply about you; your grace and patience is what makes him feel so safe with you. He never got to express himself without fear in his childhood, and you're the only comfort he's allowed himself in his adult life. So, of course, you oblige him, quietly melting into his hold.
You wake abruptly to a scream from the usually quiet man in bed next to you.
Turning to face him, you can see his eyes twitching from under his eyelids. His face is wet from tears. "No, please—don't hurt them—please—"
You sit up when he starts thrashing around in the bed, pleads being followed with pained whispers of your name. You've never witnessed him have a nightmare before. "Court?"
He doesn't wake until he feels your hands on his face. "Court, wake up, honey, please."
He wakes with a start, hands flying up to feel yours pressed to his skin. You're right above him, straddling him, staring down at him with concern. He can feel tears still streaming down his face, and he remembers now. His nightmare.
He remembers flashes: his handlers using you for leverage against him, or his enemies. It was his new biggest fear since he was called for the mission that had him leaving you in your newlywed stage. He was having the same nightmares while he was gone from you. Every night he'd drift off for maybe an hour or two before waking to his heart racing and his breaths shallow; for a few days, he avoided sleep entirely. He thought coming home and knowing you were safe would make the dreams stop, and they did for a while, until tonight. His voice is weak when he speaks. "Doll..."
You can see the fear in his eyes, his pupils wide and staring at you like he wasn't expecting you to be there, alive, and right in front of him. "Oh...honey..."
"All I can think about now is losing you. Or not making it back home to you." The weight of the confession sits like a rock in his chest. You can feel his heart pounding under your hand pressed softly to his chest. "I-I can't lose you, doll. I don't know what I'd do without you."
You can see the pain in his eyes; it's the same look he gave you when he first told you about his childhood and his father. He feared losing you then too—that opening the most vulnerable part of him would scare you off, but you just held him then.
And it's what you do now. You get off him and lay back next to him, pulling on his arm to signal for him to lay his head on your chest, which he obliges pretty quickly, snaking his arms around and under your body and holding onto you like you're his lifeline.
"I'm here, Court. It's okay. Whatever happened in your dream, it's not real. I'm right here, honey." You sooth, stroking his hair gently. He melts in your arms; your giant teddy bear. "We're safe. We're home. It's okay."
In the morning you'll surely have a real conversation about your shared fears, but for now you just wanted to care for your husband.
"Go back to sleep, my love. I'll be right here."
