. . . . .
Dora slept like a mad, wild thing, limbs careless and sprawled.
Remus, who'd spent so much of his life carefully guarding his behaviour in front of others that he knew he now did so in his sleep as well, loved to watch her at it, dead to the world and not caring where her legs, arms or blankets ended up.
He himself slept neatly, arms politely tucked in, and he rarely took up more than half of any bed, even though he'd spent far more of his life sleeping alone than sharing. Dora liked to tease him that what he'd probably like best of all would be to sleep with his suitcase packed, no trouble to anyone and ready to go where he was told at a moment's notice.
Dora had teased him, in fact, all through the tumultuous ups and downs of the start of their relationship, for being so proper, so concerned. So apologetic for his very presence.
He'd had to learn all over again how to be playful, how to tickle and tease, how to shove her affectionately back to her own side of the bed, and trust that she would do the same right back to him.
He watched her, now, in the dim light that filtered in through the curtains, the blanket half twisted around her. Remus loved the carefree way she tripped through life, heedless of where she put her feet.
That was not to say she was careless; in fact, she was eminently sensible and quite terrifyingly clever. But she lived with a freedom that Remus lacked, and admired.
His joyous, fun-loving Dora. His Dora – he still wasn't sure they had made the right decision on that point.
"Remus," Dora's voice came, interrupting his thoughts. She reached out one hand without opening her eyes, found his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Stop thinking over there and come sleep."
"I wasn't," Remus protested quietly, although of course he was.
Dora smiled the tiniest bit, eyes still closed. "Of course you weren't."
He reached over to brush a strand of her hair from her cheek. It tended to revert to her natural brown while she slept, a quirk she detested and he found endearing.
"Can I help it if sometimes I can't stop myself just gazing at you?" he whispered.
She smiled in earnest now, and gave his arm a firm tug. "Come here, you goose."
Remus shifted in closer, pressing his nose to the side of her neck and breathing in her scent. Dora wrapped an arm around him, and turned to press a kiss against his temple. "Now sleep," she said.
He did.
. . . . .
The End