It’s not the presence that wakes Bruce – he’s been back for over a month now, has started getting used to Maria coming and going at odd hours, the quiet movements around the apartment. The dull thud catches his subconscious, eases him out of the dreamless, mindless interlude; enough so that he recognizes the gentle pressure along his nose and his temples as familiar, and he inhales with the weight of his glasses disappearing from his face.
The angle is wrong for sleeping though, so he opens his eyes, sees the lines of the setting sun streaking across the wall. “You’re back,” he smiles sleepily, dregs of fuzzy contentment lingering – and growing, and he reaches for Maria’s arm, tries to bring her onto the bed.
She can feel the slope of exhaustion settling into her spine, the base of her head is still thudding, but to it’s credit it’s lessened now. The fold into his gesture is an easy acceptance, sliding into bed next to him and pressing herself against his side. One leg crosses at his ankle and she rests her temple against the dip of his shoulder. “Early, too. Right?” The hoarseness of her voice betrays her- it gives away her lack of sleep and overexertion from the day before.
Maria exhales once she’s settled and stopped shifting, eyelids fluttering once before they dip closed. “I’m glad you’re here.”