Tales from the Multiverse

Darling - Benedict Cumberbatch

You're sitting in the lounge in front of the fireplace. Benedict built a fire earlier that evening, and now it crackles merrily, casting warm shadows across the room and staving off the chill that dwells just outside the windows. The entire night is hushed, stilled by the blanket of snow that's been steadily falling for several hours now. It's perfect reading conditions, and you and your husband have been faithfully engaged in doing just that. You've decided to tease him by reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Holmes novels; you have countless sets that were given to Ben by Sherlock fans, but your favourite is the old, careworn, leatherbound set that you found in a dusty secondhand bookstore, secreted away in a small corner of London. The subtle scent of pipe tobacco that wafts up from the thick parchment pages makes the story come alive in your hands.

You're curled up in your favourite armchair, Benedict sitting to your right in his chair, and the lamp on the small table between the chairs provides mellow light to read by. A hot mug of hot cocoa rests within easy reach for effortless sipping, so that you don't even have to lift your eyes from the page to take a drink. Every now and again, Benedict mumbles under his breath, trying out a line from the script he's studying. You wish he didn't have to work tonight, but if he has to, you're glad it can be like this, and not tucked away in a stuffy cubicle with harsh, artificial lighting and endless piles of dull paperwork.

The rustling of his page turning has ceased for a while now, but you're too engrossed in your novel to notice him noticing you, the script laying forgotten in his lap as he studies you with a tender look in his eye. Only when he reaches across the space between your chairs and takes the hand that rests idly on your armrest in his larger one do you look up and smile at your spouse. He returns the grin and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the knuckles with his bow shaped lips.

"I love you, Y/N, darling," Benedict says, his thumb caressing your hand softly.

You lean your head against the back of the chair and sigh blissfully. "I love you, too."

You both return to your reading, hands still interlocked comfortably. Outside, the snow continues to fall.

~

When I imagine being married to Benedict Cumberbatch, this is how I like to imagine it. So see? Sometimes the stories I write are as much for me as they are for you.

virtues :3