A/N: Edit: New title from the poem The Way You Make Me Feel by Shelby Brockman
Nonnatus House was dark and quiet, but Delia couldn't get to sleep. As she tossed and turned alone in her room, she couldn't stop her thoughts from turning to Patsy. It was the third day in a row they barely seen each other – Delia's shifts at the hospital kept her away most of the day, and Patsy kept getting called away on early morning or late night deliveries.
Even though she knew it was silly, Delia found herself missing the midwife. When she had moved into Nonnatus, she knew that they wouldn't be able to truly be together, not like they would have in the flat. But she had expected to at least spend time in each other's company. The weeks she had been here had done nothing to settle her longing, and Patsy's extended absence made Delia ache for her.
Unable to keep still, she flung off her covers and went into the hall, grateful for her single room that made sneaking easier. She started walking without thought, and found her feet tracing a route to Patsy's room. If she couldn't spend time with the woman herself, perhaps her belongings would bring some comfort.
As she pushed open the door, Delia was thankful that Trixie had been called away with Patsy, leaving the room empty. She closed the door behind her softly and clicked on the bedside lamp, gazing around in the soft light it cast.
Although she had been in the room before, there was something intimate about being there alone, surrounded by Patsy's things. She crossed over to the dresser, running her fingers along the top as she took in the beauty products scattered in front of the mirror. Everything was jumbled together, but Delia could easily pick out Patsy's products easily – the shades of lipstick she loved to wear, hairpins too dark for blonde locks.
She had a fleeting desire to open the drawers, but pulled herself away before she could totally invade Patsy's privacy. Instead, she crossed over to Patsy's bed, taking a seat on the edge. The collection of photos above the headboard caught her eyes, and she looked them over. Most were of singers that Patsy liked, but Delia caught sight of a few of her own favorites as well. Her lips curled into a grin when she saw those – Patsy thought they were rubbish, and the only reason she could think for them to be there was to remind the woman of her.
Turning away, she began to run a hand over the soft quilt. The blankets were done up with crisp hospital corners, a habit left over from her time at the London. As her fingers ran over their surface, they found a dip in the mattress formed from days upon days of use.
She settled herself into the hollow, imagining Patsy lying in her place, lounging with an elicit drink in hand, or curled in deep sleep, her ginger hair splayed loose across the pillow. Delia turned onto her side, burying her face into the pillow, breathing in Patsy's scent. The familiar smell wrapped around her, soothing and relaxing her until she found her eyes fluttering closed.
It seemed like she had only just shut her eyes when she heard the door open. She jerked upright with a gasp, locking eyes with the redhead in the doorway.
"Delia!" Patsy exclaimed in surprise, then quickly looked back into the hallway as if checking for eavesdroppers. Pulling the door closed behind her, she continued in a lower voice, "What are you doing in here?"
Delia flushed. She didn't know what to say that wouldn't make her look like a ninny. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I just came in to, erm, to look at your things."
Patsy's brow furrowed in confusion. "To look at my things? Whatever for?"
"I… well…" Delia could feel her flush traveling to the tips of her ears. "I missed you."
Patsy's brow smoothed into a soft smile. "You missed me?" she asked, coming to sit beside Delia. "I'm right here."
Delia laughed self-consciously. "I know, it's just…" She sighed. "I feel like I never see you. We haven't spent time together for three days. I was feeling… lonely."
Patsy's smile turned into a worried frown. "Deels, I'm so sorry. I've left you in this huge monastery all on your own…"
"No, Pats, it's not your fault." Delia grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Our schedules have just been unforgiving."
Patsy squeezed back, bringing her other hand up to wrap around Delia's. "I know, but I do feel badly." She looked up at Delia through her lashes with a small smile, saying, "If I'm honest, I've missed you too."
A wide smile overtook Delia's face, and she leaned into Patsy, taking comfort in her solid warmth.
Patsy placed a hand on her thigh, her thumb rubbing minute circles through her pajama pants. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" she asked huskily, sending a thrill through Delia's stomach.
The shorter woman's smile grew suggestive. "There might be something…"
They leaned towards each other, anticipation beating in Delia's chest, until Patsy abruptly froze.
"Someone's coming," she whispered just as Delia noticed the sound of footsteps in the hall.
They had just enough time to spring off the bed and apart before the door opened, admitting Trixie into the room.
"Oh, Delia!" she greeted in surprise, stopping short when she saw the Welshwoman. "Why are you in here? Is something wrong?
"No, nothing's wrong," Delia assured. Thinking fast, she said, "It's just a bit drafty in my room, and I wanted to see if Patsy had an extra blanket. I'm afraid she caught me going through her things."
She threw Patsy a cheeky smile, which the woman returned.
"You might have escaped if you'd been looking in the right place," she teased. Crossing over to the small closet in the corner, she reached to the top shelf and pulled down a checkered afghan. "I keep my extra linens in here."
"I'm not sure she could have reached it even if she knew where it was," Trixie joked as Patsy handed the blanket over.
Delia laughed, heading towards the door. "Sorry to bother you after such a long night."
"No, no bother," the blonde said, waving her hand dismissively. "You be sure to tell Fred about the draft in the morning. He'll get it fixed right up."
"Yes, I will," Delia lied agreeably. "Will you both be at breakfast in the morning?" Though she addressed the question to both women, her eyes were fixed on Patsy.
"I expect not," Trixie said, flopping down on her bed. "I need to catch up on my beauty sleep."
"I'll be there," Patsy said softly, with a small smile to match.
Delia hugged the afghan to her chest, returning the tender look. "Good," she replied, and pulled the door shut behind her.