"Death was a friend, and sleep was Death's brother." -John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
xXx
Crane knew exactly when it started. It was the second night after Abbie's return to the Earthly realm.
Her first night was spent with Jenny, the two sisters sleeping side by side in Abbie's bed across the hall.
Crane heard his door open. He had only recently extinguished his reading light, having had one of those "just one more chapter" nights. He knew he would not be able to sleep until he learned the outcome of the Battle of Helm's Deep.
He doesn't know what made him lie still, "playing possum" as the saying goes, but he chose to feign sleep until Miss Mills roused him.
He wasn't ignoring her; wasn't hoping she would see him asleep and choose not to bother him. He simply knew, deep inside, that he should be still and wait.
He could hear everything. Her small, bare feet on the carpet as she slowly padded towards the bed. The even cadence of her breathing. The soft swish of her flannel sleeping trousers.
She didn't say a word standing beside his bed. She was behind him, staring at his back.
When she delicately pulled the blankets back and slipped beneath the covers beside him, he understood.
And remained still.
She didn't touch him, not at first. A minute passed, then two. She settled in deeper. Then her hand came to rest on his back.
It was only then he sensed her truly relax.
He woke the next morning to find her pressed against his back, the littlest big spoon ever, her petite limbs thrown over him.
Again, he did not move. His shoulder was stiff and his bladder ached to be emptied, but he waited.
He waited until Abbie stirred, woke, rose, and crept out of his room.
When he greeted her at breakfast, they both pretended nothing happened.
xXx
Abbie came back the next night. This time, Crane was asleep when she silently snuck inside.
When her small hand made contact with his back, he stirred, waking, and he felt her stiffen in response, afraid she'd woken him.
He was thankful for being gifted with reflexes and wit that are equally quick. Those were the only things that kept his body from further stirring. He knew she had come back, and knew that if he gave any indication that he knew she was there, she would bolt.
Maybe. He wasn't certain she would flee, but why else would she go to so much trouble to wait until he was asleep before coming in?
So he shifted his position a bit, then settled back in, willing his body to be still and heavy, willing his breathing to be deep and even.
He counted his breaths. One… two… three… four… five…
Convinced he is asleep, she scooted a little closer, drawn to his warmth. Or simply his presence. She needs the reassurance of physical contact right now, and he is happy to be the one to provide it.
Even if he is not meant to know about it.
The following morning they awoke entwined once more, only this time he was spooned behind her. He was a bit worried that she wouldn't be able to extract herself from his embrace, so he very carefully shifted his arm from being wrapped around her waist to merely resting on her hip.
About ten minutes later, she awoke and made her exit.
When he heard the shower turn on, he got out of bed. When he straightened the sheets to make his bed, the coconut scent of her skin cream wafted up. He stood still a moment, savoring the aroma.
During the daylight hours, she continued to act as if everything was as it always had been.
xXx
The third night, Crane decided to stay awake until Abbie showed. He was certain she would be back again. He was looking forward to it.
She appeared at approximately the same time as the previous nights,
She seemed to hesitate a bit more than the previous two nights, and he wondered if she was having second thoughts. Thinking she should try to stop sneaking in here. Feeling guilty?
Just when he was about to reach out to her, tell her she was more than welcome to share his bed if it is a comfort to her, he heard her sigh and felt her lift the blankets.
This time she exhaled a very soft curse before scooting closer to him. Closer than she had started out the previous night.
He woke up some time later. It was still dark, and his bleary eyes told him it was 1:32 a.m. He wasn't sure what it was that roused him, but his answer came in the form of a soft, pained cry from her lips.
She must be having a nightmare, he reasoned, feeling her tossing behind him. Without giving it much thought, he flipped over and pulled her against his chest, wrapping himself around her. He rubbed circles on her back and made soft shushing sounds into her hair until she stilled.
In the morning, he was reluctant to release her, but did so as soon as he felt her beginning to wake.
He remained in bed a few minutes longer, and when he rose, he was resolved.
xXx
The fates were against Crane the next night. They had a very busy, tiring day, and his plan was to wait up for Abbie to appear. He had his book. Propped himself up against the headboard.
Promptly fell asleep with the book still in his hands, head slouched against his chest.
It was after three when he startled awake, furious with himself. His anger melted away when he noticed his book on his nightstand, bookmark in place, and Abbie's head on his chest.
He sighed, carefully shifted himself into a more comfortable position – without disturbing her, of course – and went back to sleep.
This time, she really did wake up before he did.
He found he did not like waking up alone anymore.
xXx
Crane waits in the hallway while Abbie finishes her evening ablutions. He is anxious, but determined.
"Oh, hey, Crane. Sorry, were you waiting for the bathroom, or…?" The words die on her lips when he merely holds out his hand to her. "Crane, what…?"
He steps towards his door, hand still outstretched. His eyebrow rises.
"You knew?" she asks. He nods. "Why didn't you say anything?" she asks, but immediately adds, "Wait, never mind. I know why."
"Come," he simply says.
She slowly extends her hand, and when she places it in his, she pulls him towards her door. He willingly follows. "My bed is more comfortable," she says.
Inside, they regard one another for a few moments before she turns and flips the covers back. She climbs in, and he follows.
"Crane, I just needed…"
"You do not need to tell me your reasons, Lieutenant. You do not need to explain anything," he says.
"You understand?" she asks.
"Of course I do," he replies, settling in. Her bed is indeed more comfortable. As a man who had grown accustomed to sleeping on hard mattresses filled with straw, he found the guest bed to be more than acceptable. But this bed. This bed is decadence. Of course, the company helps.
"Good," she replies, turning the light off. Growing bold, she turns and faces him. "Thank you, Ichabod," she quietly says.
He feels her scoot a little closer, and he turns to face her. "You are quite welcome, Abbie."
She cuddles against his chest, fitting her curves into his angles. He wraps his arms around her, giving her the solidity and security she craves.
When her eyes open the next day, she finds herself staring up into Crane's blue eyes as he gazes down at her, patiently waiting for her to wake.
"Good morning, Lieutenant," he murmurs.
"Good morning, Crane," she answers, and suddenly wonders why she bothered hiding her activities from him. This is so much better.