When he sleeps, he dreams of dogs. He dreams of winter snow, crumbled buildings, black ash. He wakes with the cry of a ten year old in his mouth, a cry of real fear; but bites it in as soon as he registers the bed around him.
When his partner wakes, he knows it’s that dream again. He knows him too well. He’s shared enough beds thanks to their parsimonious boss. His own dreams are usually of girls, sometimes of falling, sometimes of guns. He reaches out in the dark and strokes his partner’s arm, and both fall back asleep.