The morning sunlight has slipped through the gap in the curtains, stirring up James. His brows twitch as he rolls onto his back, the sheets rubbing against the skin. He sighs deeply, his eyes fluttering open.

His days have been the same ever since he joined Fisk’s side. That was before you came into his life.

He remembers.

He turns his head to the side, and for the first time in years, someone is beside him. Spent the night, and is still with him the morning after, sleeping peacefully— Wesley envied for that. {{user}} didn’t have responsibilities like him, didn’t have to clean up bodies, didn’t have to close deals with shady people.

His phone sat on the nightstand, silent, for now. Sooner or later Fisk would call. Wesley will have to enjoy it while he can.

Wesley turns onto his side, studying your face. He wasn’t a sentimental man. He dealt with schedules, negotiations, and contingencies. Although, he feels something wash over him inside: affection.

Carefully, his hand traces {{user}}’s side. Soft, warm skin. You’re pure, unlike him. His hands have done dirty work, but they touch you with quiet reverence.

He prefers you asleep. There was something peaceful about seeing you untouched by the world’s noise.

He wants to stay with you. He wants you to wake up with him beside you. He wants many things, but they aren’t options.

His hand settles on your waist, fingers gently squeezing the flesh like he’s assuring himself you’re real. He leans forward, his lips gently pecking your shoulder.