Walker.

He was late, but wasn’t he always? Slipping inside a backdoor near two days after he’d told her to expect him. Radio silence heavy between them since, yet again - nothing unusual. Only nothing about this felt usual. Not since he’d disappeared behind the active veil of Clark Kent. Since he slept so warily only to return to the surface with a jarring start. 

Everything ached in a way it hadn’t before. A sweat that never dried off of the skin, like a fever that wouldn’t quite quit. 

So he’d kept as quiet as he could, shutting one door and soon opening the next. Feet halting when the furry head rose from the mattress in alert. His hand shook when he’d reached out to offer the pup a palm to sniff, and when the wet nose pressed to his skin - August let out a breath and crouched forward. 

“That’s my boy...”

A delicate scratch between those ears, running fingers below the dog’s chin when the animal stretched out its tongue to lap at August’s face. There was a whine too, when the man rose and ceased the petting. But he merely settled a trembling finger to his own lips and quietly shushed him. The dog obeyed, mostly, while August settled himself at the edge of the large bed, eyes baring down on the sleeping figure there. She was as beautiful as she’d always been, and every time near felt like the first. Stunning, and the kind that could shorten the breath in his very lungs. Beautiful she was, and sad. A swallowed sigh that inevitably turned into a muffled cough before one knee settled upon the mattress and soon the rest of him. 

She was an inviting force, and one he took the advantage of by scooting himself close enough to touch. One arm had reached over her, settling low upon her stomach while the rest of him pressed against her back. Forehead burying at her soft space between her shoulder and neck.  He was ragged and cold, but she felt warm and safe. Felt familiar in all the ways he’d needed now. 

||| @ofspaceandmyth ;

“…goddammit…” fingers pinch the bridge of his nose in preparation. deep inhalation before turning toward the voice, knowing it’s perhaps too late to bolt and pretend that he’s busy. 

one (1) very lazy open .

        ❝ — that ain’t an answer. ❞

      “ it isn’t, and you seem to forget that i do not owe you one.” august leaves him little room for respect or otherwise. an imposing tone and posture, as he happens to back him ever so causally against a wall. “ so consider this very carefully, unwin -------  if and when something concerns you, i’ll tell it to you straight. until then, shut your mouth. know your place. don’t fucking cross me, baby doll.”