#cloud's writing

“So… uh, that was shitty huh?” Smooth, Sam. Even after years together, he never got better at breaking the ice, “I mean, shittier than having dinner with your parents usually is.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Sorry I brought you along, I thought they’d be better and stuff if you were around.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair and finally turning to face him. He was staring at me expectantly, he was obviously waiting for me to go completely ballistic and start ranting and raving about my parents; questioning my sanity for trusting them to be better, questioning theirs for being so… them, hating them, hating myself, then sobbing. The usual scene he’s used to seeing play out after they finally wear me down into visiting them again, even though each time I swear that I’ll never let them in again. 

But I just can’t bring myself to start that tirade, I mean, I feel exhausted. I knew why I shouldn’t have gone, I mean hell, Sam protested it the whole way there and even when we were at their door he told me that he could race me home and we could just order takeout. I knew that they would never change, I knew that I was silly for thinking they could. We’ve talked about this so much I just didn’t see any point in rehashing the conversation. It’s not like it would change anything, what happened happened, and I wasn’t really interested in reliving all of the horrible moments of my childhood which that conversation always dissolved into. I always felt so guilty complaining to him about my family, I mean, his father was the goddamn Demon Lord who was I to complain?

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt the whoosh of air on my body and my feet suddenly lifting off of the ground. I instinctively gripped Sam’s shirt as he lifted me into his arms in a bridal carry. The look on his face was conflicting, he looked pissed at my parents for upsetting me so much (and for all the comments they made about him) but sorrowful at the same time, he hated seeing me upset, especially if it wasn’t something he could fix. 

“If ya don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but… y’know, I’m always here for you to vent to. I don’t care if we’ve had the conversation already, I’m never gonna hold it over your head. Your parents know how to get to you, I don’t blame you for going back.” I heard his voice rumbling in his chest, the cadence of it always put me at ease no matter what the situation was.

A simple thanks was all I could muster as I nestled my head into his chest. He was taking the time to walk up the stairs to our bedroom, I don’t know why he was being so gentle... it’s not like I was going to break if he ran up there like he normally would on any other day. 

Before I knew it, I felt the cold satin of our bed sheets against my skin, bringing me back to reality. I watched as Sam climbed into bed and let himself fall into it with a plop, followed by him opening his arms wordlessly for me to climb into… which I did. I wasn’t stupid enough to deny myself cuddles. 

The one thing about Sam that I had grown to appreciate was that he never pried if I didn’t want to talk about something, there was just that silent understanding to not touch the topic. Knowing I didn’t have to relive tonight if I didn’t want to helped me feel a little bit more at ease, allowing me to melt into his arms as they encircled around me. His hands found my shoulders and started rubbing circles into them, I didn’t even realize how tense I was. 

“I love you, doofus.” He mumbled into my hair before pressing a kiss to the top of my head, continuing to rub my shoulders in an attempt to help me relax more. I giggled a little at the nickname, even after all this time I never got used to hearing it. 

“I love you too.” I tilted my head up to press a kiss to his jaw, “The next time I get the bright idea to talk to my parents, please break my phone or like, lock me in the room or something. Anything to stop me from talking to them again.”

“Seriously? You want me to?” The humor in his voice betrayed my semi-serious request, a smile tugged at his lips, no doubt playing out the scenarios in his head.

I pushed him onto the mattress (more like he let me pretend like I could push him around) and laid on top of him, “I mean it! Don’t let me go back, they’re a bunch of stupid lying and manipulative assholes. I don’t want to keep giving them the satisfaction of making me upset.”

“Okay okay, I will. As long as you promise not to get mad when I have to.” His hands found my hips as I settled in on top of him, more than content to be my pillow. 

“I promise!” I sealed it with a kiss, feeling that familiar energy pull when I did so, “Let’s just hope it’s a while before you have to pull out all the stops.”

“No shit.” Sam pulled my head onto his chest, earning a little oof from me as my head made contact. Usually I’d make more of a protest against his requests for me to rest, usually resulting in a wrestling match where he always won and I was too exhausted for a rematch, but honestly? I just wanted to sleep more than anything right now, and in the arms of my husband was the exact place I wanted to be right now.