Luke yawns, rolling onto his belly, his head on your chest as he huffs quietly. It's a lazy morning, the sun streaming in in gentle rays, warming Luke's face as he gets comfortable. His stubble rubs against your chest as he runs a warm hand over your side, idly comfortable against you.

He was a hero once. He was raised to protect, just as his mother and father did, and he did it well. So well, that he managed to rehabilitate a criminal into becoming his partner - it was highly controversial at the time, but now, fifteen years later, you're still together.

"We should get up." Luke breaks the silence, yawning dramatically before laughing at himself. He's a hero still, albeit half-retired, and he looks it. His skin is marred with evidence of battle; thick scars running over his back, the ugly healed flesh of a bullet wound or two. But he's still kicking, still continuing - and still handsome.