#tulipcass

The light of the false dawn was filling the room, weak and watery where it broke through the layer of cloud cover over the city. Cassidy had his arms thrown over the back of the couch, spanning the length of it. On one side, Denis slept in his chair, the rattle and wheeze of his breaths loud over the telly, which had been turned almost all the way down. On his other side, Tulip had curled up against him, wrapped in a woolly afghan. She’d wandered out of her bedroom at around half two, scrubbing her eyes and making a beeline for the kettle. It had become almost ritual by now.

Tulip would start fighting sleep around eleven o’clock, and be nodding where she sat by midnight-thirty. She’d try to go to bed, and she’d even fall asleep, only to be woken again a short while later by her nightmare. So she’d get back up, make them some teas, and sit next to him on the couch and stare blankly at the telly until she nodded off again, head on his shoulder. He wondered idly why she even bothered with the pretence of going to bed, but to each their own coping mechanism was his philosophy.

She started twitching and making little unhappy noises, curling up tighter against him. He wrapped his arm around her for whatever comfort it gave. Sometimes she woke up when they were like this, sometimes not. He couldn’t really pin down the pattern, but it seemed to him that she got more sleep when she had someone with her to keep watch, to keep her safe. He’d taken to humming and singing to her in these moments, soothing her as best he could, trying to let her know she wasn’t alone without waking her up. It seemed to help, at least until she shot bolt upright, breathing like she’d run a marathon.

Cass just watched for a moment, not wanting to startle her. When she started to slow down and lean back, he whispered, “C’mere,” and, wrapping both arms around her, pulled her into his lap, holding her tight. He rubbed her back and arms, warming her up, and asked, “Are you alright?” She just shook her head in response. Well, no, he supposed she wouldn’t be. Heaving a great big sigh, he resettled both of them on the couch to be as comfy as possible and started singing again. Eventually her breathing evened out and she relaxed against him, laying her head back down on his shoulder.

A while later, she sleepily interrupted him, “Cass?”

“Tulip?”

“Thank you.” She sniffled a bit as she settled into a light doze.