Dark of the Morning

The doctors had said that dreams were sometimes windows into the unconscious mind, and could tell you something about yourself. Murdock wasn’t sure how much he believed that (though he did have fun making up dreams with which to entertain his doctors), but sometimes a dream was so vivid, with symbolism so obvious, that it woke him up. If his body woke up enough, he would try to write the dream down. In his half-awake state, it came out skewed, sometimes, but it was a good thing to try.

It was weird, waking up more fully later, and seeing the writing, obviously in his own hand, with only a vague memory of writing it. He seldom had a true memory of the dream the second time he woke up. So, it was interesting to see what went on in his dreams, dreams he hardly remembered having.

It was 5 AM and he was in the kitchen, under the harsh fluorescent light, his lanky frame balanced on a kitchen stool, long legs curled around it, hunched over a pad of paper on the counter. He was trying to write down the details, though his eyes were bleary, not truly focused. He was only half-awake, and could still see the stars outside in the sky.

He was so wrapped up in the writing, his mind still fuzzy from sleep, that he didn’t hear Face slip out of their bed and make his way down the hall. It wasn’t till he heard the sleepy shuffled footsteps that he looked up for a moment, found Face leaning in the kitchen door, a kind of drowsy concern on his face. "Murdock…are you okay?"

Murdock gave him a self-deprecating grin. "Yeah, Facey, you go on back to bed, sweets."

Face yawned, ran his hand through his already-mussed hair. "What are you doing?" He leaned his head on the doorframe.

"Tryin’ to remember a dream, doll. I’ll be in in a minute, you go keep the bed warm."

Face, there in his boxers and T-shirt (no silk tonight), looked more perfect, to Murdock’s eyes, than he did decked out in his best suit. His eyes were only half-open, and recent sleep had softened his face, made it more open, more real. His voice was hushed, the way people talk in the darkness. "I’m never warm when you’re not there." He yawned again. "Come soon."

Murdock blew him a kiss, and with a sleepy smile, Face shuffled back off to bed.

Murdock finished scribbling down the last details of his dream before they faded out of his surface memory. He looked down at the sheets of paper scattered across the kitchen counter and hoped that it made sense in the morning. Well, technically, it was already morning, but they had hours more to sleep, and there was a lovely Facey in his bed, waiting to be warmed by him. He shut off the light, let his eyes adjust to the darkness only slightly tinged by a lightening sky and walked down the hall to their bedroom.

He slipped in, and watched Face sleeping for a moment. Except for the nightmares, his Facey never truly woke up in the middle of the night. He was always still wandering half in dreamland.

Now he was curled up in their bed, huddled under their comforter and the extra blanket. His head was buried in the covers, and his body pulled up tight, in an attempt to save body warmth. It was true, Face never slept warm unless Murdock was there. Only when they were curled together could Face relax, truly relax in sleep, absorbing warmth from the other man’s body.

Murdock untangled the blankets a bit, enough to allow him to slip in beside Face. Face murmured in his sleep, and Murdock shushed him with a whispered, "S’okay, baby, it’s only me." Face would already knew that (the one thing that woke him fully was his sense of danger and the unknown), but it was the sweet words that bound them together. Murdock tucked the covers around the two of them and spooned with Face, slipping an arm around his stomach under the T-shirt and pulling him close. Face murmured quietly and shifted even closer to him.

Murdock reveled in the feel of Face’s body pressed against his, the smooth, slim stomach under his arm, the trust in Face’s snuggle against him. He could feel Face breathing in the night, and his heartbeat seemed a palpable thing, indistinguishable from Murdock’s own.

He loved him so much it hurt, sometimes. No, not sometimes. It always hurt. In a good way, a sharp way, whenever he looked at their love head-on. Let him know that he was alive, that he had Face. Would never need anything else. What else was there? Just this, this holding of a trusting Face in his arms in the dark of the morning. Face breathing in his arms.

Had he ever known happiness before this? He didn’t think so.

Face shifted, and suddenly turned over in his arms, never loosening himself from Murdock’s embrace. He curled himself into Murdock’s arms, their legs a tangle together, Murdock’s warmth lending itself to Face’s own body. Face burrowed his head into Murdock’s warm chest, his honey blonde hair brushing Murdock’s face. Smelling so sweet, it brought tears to Murdock’s eyes.

He shut his eyes tight, unsure if this was the dream, instead, and not what he had gotten up to write about. How could this be real? How could this be so perfect, so true, and still be real? How could it?

He tightened his arms around Face involuntarily, held him close as he could. Was there such a thing as being too happy? Warm in bed, his arms full of Face, his heart full of Face, full of love, such love. Hours to go of sleep together, lost in themselves, lost with each other. What love.

Face moved his head against his chest, woke just a bit, and lifted his head to look up at Murdock. Murdock opened his eyes in the dark to watch as Face’s hazy eyes focused on him. Not quite awake, but feeling the safety of Murdock all around him. He pulled himself closer to Murdock, sinking into the warmth. Murmured through his sleep, "Love you. Love you so much." Sank back into Murdock’s embrace, and Murdock relaxed, his arms around Face. Sleep was catching him, but that was okay. That, too, was perfect. They had hours to sleep in each other’s arms. "Love you, too, Facey. So much."

Dawn was rising slowly outside, but here in the darkened room, Murdock fell asleep in the glow of love, so safe, so warm. With hours to go in his love’s embrace.

~fini~

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