Goddamnit, I just need some fluff between them okay?
..
There's a moment right before he wakes up and he's still drifting in sleep that he thinks 'this feels like home'. It's accompanied by a warm, heavy weight on his chest, a light fluttering sensation in his stomach and something akin to peace that he never can seem to find except for in these moments.
His arms are wrapped around her tightly; everything about her is soft and warm and relaxed and nothing like the woman he knows she is. That woman is brash and loud and throws her punches without hesitation and she never holds back her strength, but all that fades away when she's sleeping.
It's nice to pretend for a second that she's always like this – quiet, reserved, gentle, but then something in his chest clenches because he knows that's not how she is and in all honesty, he never wants her to be like that.
He wants her brashness and her loudness and all the pain and bruises than come from being on one of the receiving ends of her hits because that's what makes her Abby. It's what makes her this perfect woman who completely infuriates him, who he can never imagine his life without any more since she bulldozed her way into his little world.
Because while he can barely stand to be next to her half of the time, he spends the other half wishing she was next to him.
She crawls underneath his skin and makes a home for herself there, pushing his buttons and twisting his insides until he's an almost incoherent mess and he doesn't want her to ever stop – because as much as she's a perennial thorn in his side, a part of him can't help but miss it when she's away.
No one gets him riled up she does, no one challenges like him she does and he knows that it's the same for her.
And the thing is, he only lets himself think of her this way in the morning, right between the time when the sky is just a shade lighter than dark, and the sun is just hovering at the edge of the horizon, ready to break free.
Mornings are when he lets his thoughts roam free before he's forced to lock them back in their proper places so he doesn't become distracted during the day when he's supposed to be doing his job which always requires one hundred and ten perfect of his attention. But during the morning, he lets them run free from their cages so he can organize them properly, label them and then slot them back into their respectful places in his mind.
Most of the time, those thoughts tend to be about Abby or have something to do with Abby. He doesn't think about her on purpose, she just slips in quietly and finds her way into everything, every little crack and crevice in his thoughts until she's the only thing on his mind – much like she does with everything else in his life.
She's good at that, slithering her way into life and messing up all his plans.
In fact, she's been doing it since the first day he met her and years later, even after everything they've been through both together and separately, absolutely nothing has changed.
"You are thinking way too much for this early in the morning," she mumbles into his chest, her voice bringing him back from where he's gotten lost in his mind. He opens his eyes and finds her with her eyes still closed but her lips are turned up at the corners slightly.
"I thought you were sleeping," he says and she chuckles softly.
"I was, but I could feel practically feel you thinking so hard that it woke me up," she responds lightly, her voice still slightly hoarse and thick with sleep. "Nice of you to put that brain of yours to work for once."
He rolls his eyes, and pinches her side. She makes a little noise of protest and tries to squirm away from him but he just squeezes tighter, drawing her closer to him.
"Not nice," she grumbles which he snorts at, watching as she shifts until she's laying half on top on him. She folds her arms across his chest and pillows her head on her hands.
"You're not nice," he says, letting his hand wander up and down the exposed skin of her back while his fingers absently draw invisible patterns there.
"I'm plenty nice. I'm the nicest person you'll ever meet in your life," she says, an amused little smile creeping across her lips. He lets out a sharp 'ha' at that, infusing all the sarcasm he can into that one sound.
"And that's the funniest thing I've heard all day."
"Mm," she hums, the vibrations making his skin tingle, "well that makes sense seeing as how you've been up for all of fifteen minutes."
"I think it's quite too early in the morning for that level of sass Abigail."
"Oh baby," she drawls untangling herself from his arms and sitting up till she can lean over him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes and a smirk on her face, "you know there's no such thing."
A wave of dark hair falls across her shoulder, making its own little curtain around the two of them. He shakes his head at her but there's a fond smile playing against his lips that barely brushes against the surface of his true affection for her.
Neither of them are the most expressive people when it comes to talking about their own feelings, especially when they're together, but it's moments like these that tell them every they need to know, everything that they need to hear, just without all the words.
It's all the stolen kisses as they get ready for the day, to the way they bicker over pancakes or waffles for breakfast, the fact that neither of them can quite keep their hands off of each other until they're forced to move back to the bed – that's all the reassurance they need to know that they're fine, that this between them is good.
They keep their hearts close to their chests, and whether it's instinct or habit or both neither knows. It's in their nature to be protective of what's theirs and this – this thing between them means exposing their hearts to each other, letting each other in on their deepest secrets and unspoken fears and everything else in between.
No, this thing isn't just physical attraction anymore because there are actual feelings involved now, feelings that they still try to shove down and ignore because it means that they're getting attached. And that scares them more than either will ever admit.
And there's nothing more that they hate than being scared.
So they keep quiet and don't say the things that they really want to.
He knows what his heart is trying to tell him, but he can't find it in himself to actually put the words out there even when they tumble to the tip of his tongue and they threaten to escape every time he looks at her and catches her watching him with that soft, fond, unguarded light in her eyes.
Her eyes always give her away.
And Abby's eyes are always greenest in the morning, flecks of hazel, emerald and jade all swirling together. Maybe it's the colour, or maybe it's the gleam in them or maybe it's just the fact that it's her eyes, but it's always so easy for him to get lost in them that he has to remind himself he can't actually spend all day staring at her.
And when she looks up at him through dark lashes with that soft vulnerable tilt to her lips, it's always his undoing and the worst part is that she knows it and of course, since it's Abby, she always uses it to her advantage.
Outside the apartment, the sun begins to rise letting small rays of light filter through the curtains casting shadows against walls and lighting up corners. They just look at each other for a moment letting their eyes do the talking for all the things they don't say out loud.
"Hi," she whispers leaning down closer until her forehead is resting against his. He lifts his head until he can press a quick peck against her nose which she groans at, wrinkling her nose with a grimace. He chuckles at her, trailing his hand up from her back to tangle in her hair and presses his lips against hers lightly until she smiles into the kiss.
"Good morning," he mumbles softly breaking away from her – at least that's until Abby grabs him and tells him to stop talking and shuts him up with another kiss.
A good morning indeed.