You were sitting in the middle of your bed, behavior
analysis book open on one side, notebook on your lap, head bouncing to the
sound of AC/DC as you wrote down some the talking points for your lecture next
morning. It was pretty late, so you already were in your favorite sleeping attire
which was one of Jack’s old LAPD shirts.
You looked up when he walked into the room,
looking so absolutely exhausted you winced in sympathy. Being a police officer
in a SWAT team meant he worked really long hours most days. But whenever he had
a particularly bad case, Jack would come in looking like death warmed him over,
ready to just drop down and sleep.
Tonight didn’t seem to be that particular case,
but he still faceplanted on the bed next to you with a long, dramatic huff. You
ran your hands through his buzzcut hair in a comforting manner, scratching a
little just to hear him purr in pleasure. Jack was like a cat sometimes. A
really big and buff, muscly cat.
