There was something about waking up with Gaby in his arms that made everything okay even if just for a few insignificant seconds. The warmth of her bare skin pressed against his, the way her fingers clutched at him as if he would disappear, the feel of her breath brushing across him.
She was his light when he was so often trapped in the dark.
After a bad day or a mission gone awry, Gaby would always hold Illya, she would press his head against her chest and stroke her hand down his back and the troubles would fade away while he listened to her heart beating in a constant comforting rhythm.
He didn’t deserve this woman.
Illya looked down at her face pressed against his chest and smiled at the utter vulnerability there. She snored lightly and there was a small amount of drool making its way to his skin.
He was going to marry her.
A German and Russian.
Illya moved his fingers through her hair detangling as he went. He felt her rouse slightly with the movement and paused but it was too late.
“”Illya?” She muttered snuggling deeper into him
“Go back to sleep my little chop shop girl.” He said pressing a kiss to her nose. Gaby smiled sleepily and pressed her lips to the skin on his chest in return.
“Hmm, I love you” She whispered and just like every time she said it Illya lost the ability to breathe.
“I love you”
She could end him and by her hand, he would go, if that was what she wanted.
“Were you watching me sleep again Peril?” Her accent becoming thicker as she fell back into sleep.
“Of course not”