More often than not the butler came to bed late. Unless something happened to free him of his duties early, you rarely knew exactly when he tucked into your side. Barbatos’ sleep was often still, no darting hint of dreams behind those eyelids as he rested beside you. Perhaps it wasn’t even sleep; never had you woken from a nightmare or unfit slumber to find anything but his calm green eyes staring back at you. He seemed always ready to care and listen.
Yet he always rose so early, hours before the start of his duties. Often, you missed it. The night outside the window never changed but your schedule usually prompted you to spend as much time in bed as possible. He never tried to wake you, leaving soft parting kisses to your cheek that filtered through into the ends of your dreams.
Once, though, you caught him. Rising up from bed you followed his sleepy, languid walk to the bathroom. Your hands reached out to help unbutton his nightshirt until it was loose enough to pull over his head. You planted a kiss on his bare shoulder, coaxing out a soft hum. Turning on the shower you let the water warm and continued to dress your sleepy butler down to nothing but skin. Trying to prompt him into the warm shower gave him pause, and he caught your wrist to kiss it. A silent plea. You joined him. After all, you were up anyway, and it’s a rare moment where you can see a clear way to be of service. Free of the burdensome worry that you might be in the way, or might mess something up, you washed his hair, and let his hands rest on your hips as you washed your own.
Through each step of the morning you guided him without protest, until gloved hands buttoned up the last button, and he thanked you with a short kiss.
“Is this why you get up so early? Because it takes you so long to get ready?”
“Mm, yes. An old habit from when I was younger. I always knew there would be a day when someone could help.” Another kiss, this one lingering and sweet. “Thank you for a dream come true.”
