viaticumforthemarquise:

3: Nose Kiss

He’d fallen asleep while they’d been watching a film—sprawled across the divan, his head in her lap, one leg throw half off the piece of furniture. Like any parent, when he slept she could see the face of babyhood still somewhere in the man he was now, her heart aching just a little as she stroked his hair absently. No, she would never deliver such affection were he awake—it cost her too much to do so—but in the safety of slumber she might treat him as she would have in the smallness of mortal babyhood. 

She leaned over his face, gently pressing her lips to the tip of his nose. She loved him—unconditionally, irrevocably—this much would always be true.