Gabe 'Coop' Cooper (barkeepbear) wrote in bumpinthenigt, @ 2013-03-13 17:26:00 |
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Current mood: | worried |
Entry tags: | #nsfw, 11.06.12, gabe, gabe & sera, sera |
Make it go away or make it better, isn't that what love's supposed to do?
Who: Gabe & Sera
What: Aftermath.
When: 11.6.12 - Wednesday Morning
Where: Gabe's apartment
Warning: Gabe is not having happy thoughts.
It had been two days now since they'd rescued Sera. Exhausted by her ordeal, she'd slept most of the time since and Gabe couldn't blame her one bit. He'd stayed with her as much as he could, in the chair by her bed or in the bed itself. He'd asked Abbie's mom to take her the first half of the week instead of the second before they'd even staged the rescue, so at least he didn't have to worry about his daughter fussing around, worrying about all of them. Bad enough him running himself ragged.
He wasn't the only one - Dex had hardly left Sera's side, something which Gabe was extremely thankful for when he'd had to drag himself away to open up the bar on Tuesday. That was the real pain about running his own business - he couldn't just take time off when he needed to. Sure, Nadia would cover the bar for him if necessary, but he didn't want to rely on her too much. And truthfully, getting away for a few hours had been good. Seeing the regulars, serving drinks, listening to music. The silence in the apartment was almost oppressive.
He'd woken early on Wednesday morning, rolling silently out of bed without waking Sera. Decidedly not awake, he drunk his coffee and had his morning cigarette out on the balcony, the chill in the air doing nothing to encourage him to go about his day. All he wanted to do was crawl back under the warm blankets and curl around Sera. Make her forget about all the shit that had happened to her. Shutting the balcony door behind him, he sighed heavily. He really should be doing paperwork, or something. Anything productive. For now though he just needed a minute to gather his thoughts. He sat down on the couch with a soft grunt more borne of habit than of any real effort. Hands clasped, elbows on his knees, he sat looking at the blank tv screen, the dim reflection of himself visible there. He looked about as bad as he felt. Worn out, tired, and tousle-headed.