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Jul. 23rd, 2014 10:22 pmTheir relief had finally arrived.
Morgan, usually stoic in the face of both impending doom and dramatics of an almost professional level, gives himself a moment to let out the breath he's been holding since they swiped in for duty. His sigh, silent to most, would usually hit the ears of his partner with unnaturally sensitive hearing. Even on two legs instead of four, Danny's hearing far surpasses his own. But the partner in question, in both work and now life, is fast asleep on one of the (also unnaturally) large sofas that give their living room some structure. It's easy to pick sofas when the shortest of the two of them (Morgan himself, incidentally) is a good six foot tall. It's not like Danny could ever keep himself from stretching out to occupy every corner of whatever he's lying on even if he tried.
It's been a night of testing encounters and a need to live up to their own success rate. The two of them are a shining example of the unit and even with pressure from outside their perfect pair, nothing comes close to how much they both want to do a good job. A job that means when things don't turn out for the best, it's hard to draw a line and move on. Even Morgan is having a difficult time of it, unable to just take himself off to decompress while Danny gets some well-deserved rest. He'd had to use his inhaler twice but it didn't compare to how hard the taller man had to work to run down lunatics firing off curses every which way. One of the nastier ones had come close to felling Morgan where he stood and it had only been Danny's razor sharp reactions that had saved him the ribbon effect in flesh of that cutting curse. The caster had run off into the darkness, swallowed up in it and given anonymity. Danny had saved his skin, literally, but in the process had given up the chance of apprehending the perpetrator.
He's been standing at a window looking out at the moon for longer than he realises when the thought of how strange these moments are is running rampant through his head. On days like these it feels like they've come home to a different world rather than a different neighbourhood. He knows exactly what goes on outside and is up close and personal with it on a daily basis, and though he knows he works alongside men and women of immeasurable talent and skill, nights like this he can't help but wonder if it will ever be enough. From there it's surprisingly easy, even for a man like Morgan, to slide into a place that is far darker than the night sky outside. It's like falling into a neverending hole, an abyss with no chance of a hand roughly thrust down to save him.
But the hand comes in the form of the man who, maybe unknowingly, drags him back to the surface more than Morgan can ever really say. He wants to be strong for Danny, sensible and brave and a rock among the waves that seem to batter them both out on the beat. Even he has his off days. Tonight is one of them and though he's been abruptly pulled from the pit he let himself sink into, he finds himself yearning for comfort in the only way he knows to find it. It hadn't been Danny's hand that had pulled him back, but the familiar sound of a disturbed sleeper, a dreamer acting out his dreams that Morgan would rather save him from.
He shrugs off his zip up POLICE hoodie as he walks over to the large sofa and drops it, surprisingly, to the floor. He'll pick it up later and put it where it belongs, but he's not too far gone that he doesn't know priorities when he sees them. With a whispered word of promise he's careful not to startle the sleeping man as he carefully angles his shoulders up enough to slip on to the sofa. Just as carefully lowering the head down to his lap, he runs a finger across Danny's forehead to push his hair up off his face and follows through with the rest of his fingers, cradling the back of the man's head with tufts of hair filling the gaps between his fingers. He wants Danny to sleep, but he won't leave the man to face whatever dreams he's having alone, and he won't deny himself the comfort that only the man he's sitting under can give him.
It's the touch that brings him back fully, the feel of a heart beating under the palm he's laid out on Danny's chest, the hair between his fingers and the weight over his lap. The sound of quiet breaths filling the silence and the smell of the shower gel from the changing rooms at work still clinging to Danny and filling his nostrils. It's the sight of the man still with him, his features obscured by the darkness but Morgan knows every single one of them anyway. It's the deep-seated feeling that whatever it is they'll have to face tomorrow, they can do it together.
Sometimes Morgan can't help himself from getting lost in the darkness, but even in darkness Danny is his beacon and the light calling him home.
Morgan, usually stoic in the face of both impending doom and dramatics of an almost professional level, gives himself a moment to let out the breath he's been holding since they swiped in for duty. His sigh, silent to most, would usually hit the ears of his partner with unnaturally sensitive hearing. Even on two legs instead of four, Danny's hearing far surpasses his own. But the partner in question, in both work and now life, is fast asleep on one of the (also unnaturally) large sofas that give their living room some structure. It's easy to pick sofas when the shortest of the two of them (Morgan himself, incidentally) is a good six foot tall. It's not like Danny could ever keep himself from stretching out to occupy every corner of whatever he's lying on even if he tried.
It's been a night of testing encounters and a need to live up to their own success rate. The two of them are a shining example of the unit and even with pressure from outside their perfect pair, nothing comes close to how much they both want to do a good job. A job that means when things don't turn out for the best, it's hard to draw a line and move on. Even Morgan is having a difficult time of it, unable to just take himself off to decompress while Danny gets some well-deserved rest. He'd had to use his inhaler twice but it didn't compare to how hard the taller man had to work to run down lunatics firing off curses every which way. One of the nastier ones had come close to felling Morgan where he stood and it had only been Danny's razor sharp reactions that had saved him the ribbon effect in flesh of that cutting curse. The caster had run off into the darkness, swallowed up in it and given anonymity. Danny had saved his skin, literally, but in the process had given up the chance of apprehending the perpetrator.
He's been standing at a window looking out at the moon for longer than he realises when the thought of how strange these moments are is running rampant through his head. On days like these it feels like they've come home to a different world rather than a different neighbourhood. He knows exactly what goes on outside and is up close and personal with it on a daily basis, and though he knows he works alongside men and women of immeasurable talent and skill, nights like this he can't help but wonder if it will ever be enough. From there it's surprisingly easy, even for a man like Morgan, to slide into a place that is far darker than the night sky outside. It's like falling into a neverending hole, an abyss with no chance of a hand roughly thrust down to save him.
But the hand comes in the form of the man who, maybe unknowingly, drags him back to the surface more than Morgan can ever really say. He wants to be strong for Danny, sensible and brave and a rock among the waves that seem to batter them both out on the beat. Even he has his off days. Tonight is one of them and though he's been abruptly pulled from the pit he let himself sink into, he finds himself yearning for comfort in the only way he knows to find it. It hadn't been Danny's hand that had pulled him back, but the familiar sound of a disturbed sleeper, a dreamer acting out his dreams that Morgan would rather save him from.
He shrugs off his zip up POLICE hoodie as he walks over to the large sofa and drops it, surprisingly, to the floor. He'll pick it up later and put it where it belongs, but he's not too far gone that he doesn't know priorities when he sees them. With a whispered word of promise he's careful not to startle the sleeping man as he carefully angles his shoulders up enough to slip on to the sofa. Just as carefully lowering the head down to his lap, he runs a finger across Danny's forehead to push his hair up off his face and follows through with the rest of his fingers, cradling the back of the man's head with tufts of hair filling the gaps between his fingers. He wants Danny to sleep, but he won't leave the man to face whatever dreams he's having alone, and he won't deny himself the comfort that only the man he's sitting under can give him.
It's the touch that brings him back fully, the feel of a heart beating under the palm he's laid out on Danny's chest, the hair between his fingers and the weight over his lap. The sound of quiet breaths filling the silence and the smell of the shower gel from the changing rooms at work still clinging to Danny and filling his nostrils. It's the sight of the man still with him, his features obscured by the darkness but Morgan knows every single one of them anyway. It's the deep-seated feeling that whatever it is they'll have to face tomorrow, they can do it together.
Sometimes Morgan can't help himself from getting lost in the darkness, but even in darkness Danny is his beacon and the light calling him home.
