Sweet Dreams

Irina crawled into bed beside her already sleeping husband and turned out the light. She leaned and kissed his cheek, whispering, "Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams."

Jack woke instantly at her touch, being far too highly trained to sleep through anything entering his physical space. He rolled his eyes. Sweet dreams? How sickeningly sentimental from a former KGB agent and international terrorist. She should know better that in their line of work, sweet was the last word one would use to describe the dreams they had. He rolled over onto his back and tried to go back to sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Irina's tossing and turning and kicking and thrashing about woke Jack once again. He was never going to get any sleep this way. Years ago, Laura had never been so erratic in her sleep. He frowned. He shouldn't be thinking about that, not now that they were living a new life together. Jack silently slipped out of bed and padded out of the room.

Irina sensed that he was gone. She sat bolt upright and looked to her right. Sure enough, Jack was missing. Had she woken him again? He never said anything, but she knew that her restless sleep bothered him. She wished there was something she could do, but after the things she had done and seen, quiet rest was not something she found during sleep. Surely he understood that? She got out of bed and went to find her husband.

There was a dim light coming from the kitchen. "Jack?"

He closed the fridge, his hands full with a glass of scotch and a plate of leftovers. "Did I wake you up, honey?"

"You weren't in bed. I thought I'd come find you."

"I'll be there in a while. Why don't you go get some rest?" he suggested.

Irina smirked. "Why don't you give me half of that sandwich?"

Jack gave a small smile and passed her half of the roast beef sandwich he had just cut diagonally. They sat across from each other at the small kitchen table, sharing the sandwich and the glass of scotch.

Under the table, Jack's foot brushed against Irina's bare leg. She shrieked, "Your feet are freezing! Put on socks before we get back into bed!"

He chuckled. "Your accent comes through when you get flustered, Comrade."

"Никто не любит умник," she replied snidely, then translated, "No one likes a smartass."

Jack shook his head. "Вы знаете, я говорю по-русски."

"Yes, but you don't do it very well. You might be able to speak Russian, but you sound American. So stop it."

Just for that, Jack pressed his ice cold foot against her calf. She tossed the crust of her sandwich at his head and stormed back into the bedroom. He laughed as he brushed the crumbs from his curly hair. After putting the dishes in the sink, he went back to their room. He was greeted by getting a pillow thrown at him as he walked in.

"Oh is this really what you want to do right now?" he asked her with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

She was sitting on her knees in the middle of their bed, biting her lip in anticipation of Jack's retaliation. "Take your best shot, Bristow," she dared.

In an instant, Jack had leapt onto the bed and pinned her on her back beneath him. "I win," he said with a grin.

She laughed. "I think we both win." Irina pulled him down to kiss her.

They snuggled together under the covers. Jack kept his beautiful wife securely in his arms. She was less likely to move about when she felt safe, he knew. He nuzzled her hair and kissed her temple. "Sweet dreams, honey."