A/N: This is an incomplete snippet from the middle of a story I don't have planned. As such it is in danger of being replaced by something more complete and coherent, or possibly having chapters with other snippets added.
I wrote it in my head late last night as I was getting ready to fall asleep, and I had to get up and type it out before I could forget it.
Layla heard Warren's breathing steady. He had fallen asleep in the grass, one arm behind his head, and the other draped over his abdomen. His face was turned toward her, and as she looked, she saw on it a hidden softness, and a hidden pain. She had never before seen him so unguarded. She knew it was impolite, even slightly creepy to stare at someone while they were sleeping, but she couldn't help it. He was fascinating, and even asleep gave off a strong impression of passion and burning fire just beneath the surface. She had never had such an opportunity to really look at him before. She had known he was quite good looking, but now, with nothing to distract her, with no need or desire to look away, she finally realized just how handsome he really was. She unconsciously traced his every feature with her eyes, longing, but not daring, to touch them. She lost track of herself, and just how long she had been looking at him, mesmerized. He looked exceedingly comfortable, lying on the soft ground, and he looked... a word she at one point never would have thought to associate with him, and a word she knew he would resent... cuddly. A warm breeze blew through her hair, and she closed her eyes, very tired all of a sudden. Before she could stop herself she moved and settled herself onto the ground beside Warren, very careful not to touch him, but she was close enough she could feel his breath on her face, and his radiating warmth all along her body. She soon fell into a deep slumber.
Something flowery had invaded Warren's dream. The rest of the dream had moved well along, but the flowers persisted. Strange that something like that should be so prevalent a theme in his dream. Even as his awareness that he was dreaming was bringing him back to the waking world, the flowers still did not go away. He had fallen asleep in the grass, but there hadn't been any flowers... He slowly opened his eyes. There was Layla. Sleeping, an inch away. Groggy from sleep, he had no reaction but to stare at her. He was too sleepy to process questions like why or how. Just-- there she was. She smelled like flowers, and she was gorgeous. She was in her element. The sun lit up her hair like fire, a rosy tint shone on her smooth cheeks, and the grass grew bright green all around her. Faint feathery shadows from her eyelashes danced on her cheeks, and her breath blew out of her slightly parted lips, onto his. He realized his hand had moved up to caress her face, and he stopped it, a millimeter away. His hand hovered there a minute more before he brought it slowly back down. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep with the scent of flowers.
Layla awoke suddenly, quite remembering herself with embarrassment, and she quickly moved away from Warren, who was still sleeping soundly. She had barely seated herself as she was before, book open on her lap, when Warren stirred. He sat up and looked at her oddly.