Hiya fellow Strike Fans. I couldn't get this out of my head so here you are. Characters owned by Mr Robert Galbraith and Lyrics are the sole property of The Script. Hope you enjoy! X

I may not have the softest touch, I may not say the words as such, and though I may not look like much, I'm yours.

Robin leans over me, propped up by her elbow, her fingertips dancing across my hair line. I close my eyes and try to hold back the emotion that is threatening to choke me, concentrating solely on the love that transcends her touch as she maps out the contours of my weathered features. She gazes adoringly at my ageing skin and untamed stubble and it perplexes me that she seems content with what very little I have to offer.

You touch these tired eyes of mine, and map my face out line by line, and somehow growing old feels fine.

I can't help but panic slightly about this development in our relationship as I shift my leg that is wrapped between hers and the blue cotton sheet of my bed. How will this affect us working together? Was last night all she wanted and nothing more? I couldn't bear that, though that would be completely out of character for Roblin but then so was divorcing Matthew.

And though my edges may be rough, and never feel I'm quite enough, it may not seem like very much, but I'm yours.

Her lips graze mine almost as though she has heard my inner monologue and I kiss her back pushing aside my insecurities to wrap my arm around her tiny frame engulfing her in my embrace and pulling the pebbled peaks of her nipples to my chest. A soft mewl leaves her lips, and that sound alone has my cock twitching with anticipation.

You wrap your thoughts in works of art, and they're hanging on the walls of my heart.

Robin pulls away softly just far enough above me to draw much needed air into her lungs and I watch with reverence as her chest heaves in response. With my arm still around her I flip her underneath me and now it's my turn to trace my fingers down her hairline, pushing a tendril of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear so as not to obscure my perfect view. I have never been one with words but with Robins beautiful figure pressed beneath me, her hair an incandescent mess of waves across my pillow there is so much I want to say.

I may not have the softest touch, I may not say the words as such, and though I may not look like much, I'm yours.

I watch the brow of her cleavage with awe as she shivers beneath my touch, and I can't help but compare her to Charlotte; she was never this affected by me, she was either fucking my brains out or spitting poison, there was never a middle ground, never this amount of intimacy, and its breathtaking.

Robin's eyelashes flutter beneath me and her tongue emerges from between her deliciously plump lips moistening the area before she pulls her bottom lip up between her teeth, the look upon her face is somewhere between nervousness and uncertainty. I stroke the apple of her cheek and address her insecurity.

She asks if she can touch my stump, and it startles me, though I dont think that my suprise translates across my features. I nod hesitantly, plenty of people have been unbothered by it, ignoring its existence, but no one has never asked to touch it before. I adjust my position as Robin slides from beneath me and I lie back, settling against the mattress. I watch with curiosity as she moves backwards on her hands and knees until her gaze settles on the end of what was my leg. Her fingers flicker over the tender skin at the end of my stump as though she is memorising every bump and every contour. I throw my head back in anticipation as she lowers her head and I'm overcome with emotion at the feel of her placing a series of scintillating kisses over the scarred tissue,

The tears that prick the back of my eyes in response to her tenderness catches me off guard and out of nowhere the grief of the last few days begins to stifle me. I throw my arm across my face to hide the pain of Shankers death that chokes me and I feel Robin shift in an instant so that she is beside me, her hand linking with mine as she utters heartfelt and guilt-ridden apologies against my ear.

In a sudden haze of anger, I pull her gaze to mine and with my hands either side of her face, I will her to listen to me when I tell her it wasn't her fault and I would die a thousand times over to protect her the way Shanker had. It cuts me to the core as I realise that Shankers death is my fault, he died protecting the woman I love. He did it for me.

Unshed tears that have been threatening to fall, finally begin painting tracks down either side of my face as I feel myself drowning in the knowledge that Shanker died for me.

The day news came my best friend died, my knees went weak and you saw me cry, say I'm still the soldier in your eyes

Robin grasps at either side of my face, her thumbs brushing away my tears as they continue to cascade down my cheeks of their own accord in time with her own. She places a heartfelt kiss upon my lips and I can taste the saltiness of our grief as she showers me with love and affection, before lying beside me and pulling me to her chest. I lie enveloped in her arms and she embraces me, allowing me to grieve for the death of my friend until the dulcet sound of her heart beat beneath my ear lulls me to sleep.

And though my edges may be rough, and never feel I'm quite enough, it may not seem like very much, but I'm yours.