Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

89. To Err Is Human, Pt. 2

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"I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, in different times. And I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion."

— Achilles, to Patroclus

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

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Striker left me alone while he finished preparing dinner, and I heard him settle on the couch after putting our food in the oven to bake, switching on the TV and turning the volume down low. Tears had welled up in my eyes, but they never fell. I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, my mind gradually clearing out the dismal thoughts that had swarmed it not moments before. Eventually, I stood and slowly made my way down the short hallway to the living room.

Striker turned his head when I walked into the room, then promptly pushed himself to his feet and approached me. "You feelin' alright?"

I nodded. "I'm okay," I said earnestly. "Really."

He pushed a strand of hair out of my face and started, "(Y/N), I'm — "

"It's okay," I interrupted, my eyes falling to the floor again. "I just got a little too into my head, I guess." I clasped my hands together. "Thank you — for giving me some time by myself."

Striker nodded, his hand cupping my cheek. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on my forehead. "You gonna feel like eatin'?"

"Yeah. Those tea cakes and éclairs at Stolas' place were tasty, but not very filling." I flashed him a small smile. "I'm starving, honestly."

He mirrored my smile and leaned in to kiss me just as the oven timer began to beep. He sighed in mild annoyance, but stole a quick kiss before walking into the kitchen to take our dinner out of the oven.

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I lay in bed performing my nightly ritual of absentmindedly checking my emails and scrolling through Sinstagram. Missy had posted another dozen photos of her newborn, Stolas posted a selfie of him and Octavia in the middle of a magic lesson, and Charlie posted an update on the plans for her upcoming party.

While mindlessly playing on my phone, I could hear light clicking from the living room as Striker disassembled and cleaned his guns. He stayed in there cleaning his weaponry for nearly an hour before reassembling each blessed firearm and finally coming into the bedroom, turning off the lights on his way to bed. He changed out of his off-white jeans into a pair of loose charcoal-gray sweatpants and crawled into bed, laying a hand on my hip.

"What're we lookin' at tonight?" he said, propping his chin on my shoulder.

"Just some more photos of Missy and Reggie's baby," I replied. "I swear, all the photos she posts take up my entire feed. He's cute and all, but I want to see what everybody else is up to."

Striker chuckled. "C'mon. It's about time for bed."

"Yeah, I guess so." I placed my phone on my nightstand and turned off the bedside lamp, cloaking the room in darkness. I settled back into the mattress, shifting backward until my backside was flush with Striker's frame, and he responded by wrapping an arm around me, pressing his lips to my temple.

I turned my head so that his lips fell on mine, causing him to chuckle again, and brought a hand to the side of his face. We kissed each other slowly, gently, and only after I let out a soft sigh did he lick my bottom lip to request entry. I conceded and parted my lips, and he wasted no time sending his tongue to dance and mingle with mine.