#violenceistheanswer

Now, however, the movie is finished, and they're both just a little too old to be sleeping on a couch without having major regrets in the morning.

With that in mind, he carefully shifts so that he can press soft kisses to wherever he can reach in an effort to wake her as gently as possible and hopefully prevent any grumpiness.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to go to bed."

@violenceistheanswer​ giving me that desperately needed fluff 

“Mmm,” she hummed, as eyes fluttered open. She glanced first at scrolling credits on the TV — whoops! yet another movie she had fallen asleep through, after promising herself she was just going to rest her eyes for a minute — and then, lifting her head off his chest just enough, at James looking down at her. 

“--you’re awake.”

And whilst the Sanctum Sanctorum isn’t much a place for broken things, the mess this man had been when Wong found him on their doorstep had Stephen under the impression that perhaps a hospital-- who would question his identity, undoubtedly-- might not be the best place to take him.

Surgery isn’t something Stephen can do on his own any more, but the mystic arts can be used in many ways. The man will find himself sans bullets and stitched closed, even though there isn’t any thread in any of the wounds that litter his body. The pain hasn’t gone away, not in the least, but at least he’s healing... and Stephen, on his part, has confirmed that the man’s body isn’t yet far gone enough that healing is impossible (even if he might have given it a little push to get him out of the Sanctum quicker).

“If you’re going to sit up, I’d suggest doing it slowly,” Stephen says, moving to sit on a chair by the modest cot the man’s laid out on. He pulls a kettle of tea out (but from where? is the question), pours some of it into a cup, and then adds a spoonful of honey (from where?) for good measure.

Fingers remained interlocked with the bed’s resident, as she glanced up at their current visitor from her chair. She paused for a moment, not sure herself how she was going to take it, but her own small, soft smile formed on her lips. “That’s... something,” her words were quiet but still had the slightest shade of amusement to them. She could use it too, after isolating herself away in here — though, she would argue she wasn’t ‘alone’ — and more than one person had made their rounds pestering her trying to help, some more than others.

She was playing a dangerous game and she knew it. The panic in her chest at the sight of crushed sunglasses, and the fear that sat with her while playing the waiting game at the airport for Charger's call, all pointed to an undeniable and resounding REAL. But only when she paused to ponder why she was going out of her way to replace those aviators — all on the off chance it would just make him smile after what he went through — did she finally admit to herself what it meant. A reason that should, by all accounts, make her pull away — especially when more than one voice had warned her about controlling her weaknesses — and yet...

She leaned in the doorway, “I... can handle myself, if I have to.” Her words were soft and careful, lips forming into a light smile as she glanced down — hoping it provided some reassurance for what Camila could so easily undo. She wants to say simply Camila’s wrong, but how delicate a game that could be, too.