Yay! They're back. More Dean and Lauren, although this is just a little one-shot. Takes place a week or two after Who Do You Love finishes (but before they get Boomer) and is basically some loving smut. Still, I hope it's kind of cute with it. I just can't help myself.
The next proper Lauren and Dean story will be coming shortly where they visit her hometown (Homecoming).
Title for this comes from Spike Milligan's fabulous poem, Things That Go Bump In the Night. Go check it out, it'll make you smile!
Happy Halloween (very, very nearly!)
Bump In The Night.
Given that in life he was generally fearless, it was a surprise for me to discover that Dean disliked horror films. As in he genuinely found them tense and uncomfortable.
Him.
Dean Ambrose.
One third of The Shield.
Despite that though, he loved Halloween time and became almost childlike with glee about it all. As the neighborhood shops had begun to stock with spook supplies every time he went out he came back with something new, ranging from light-up pumpkins and candy eyes to cobwebs and a styrofoam headstone.
RIP.
Worst of the bunch had been the animatronic spider, which – quite frankly – had almost finished me off. Partly because I hated them anyway but mostly because he had sent it across the bathroom as I had stumbled from the shower, half-dead to the world.
He had not got any sex that evening.
Or – come to think of it – the day after that.
Thankfully however, with the holiday almost upon us and the disastrous sex embargo fresh in his mind, Dean had reined in his spending a little and the house had ended up tastefully decorated instead of like the glorified ghost train at a park.
Small mercies I guessed.
The day itself however was kind of a let-down which probably wasn't a total surprise. I mean, sure, the kids in costumes were adorable and the effort that went into each one was phenomenal, but I had honestly never been sold on the rest of it and that went right back to my teenage years. For the most part each and every Halloween I could remember had been spent feeling cold and hanging around for my best friend. Usually she had been round the corner of a building, Frenching a guy or fumbling around. But standing in a costume while your best friend swapped saliva did not for a memorable holiday make, which was why – with the local kids stocked up on goodies and midnight getting closer – I could finally draw breath.
Pouring a glass of wine and snagging up some Oreos, I plodded into the great room and collapsed into the chair, tucking my legs up under my body and wrapping myself in the big faux-fur throw.
"God that's better – so much better."
I took a sip of wine and let out a sigh.
Another thing that had bummed me out a little was that Dean had been called on for promotional work and although he had promised he would try and be back earlier – almost as standard – his flight had been delayed. In hindsight I probably should have simply gone with him but it was only for some signing and it was only for one day and so Dean had insisted I stay and chill out a bit, plus – you know – dispense candy to the kids.
Looking at my watch and then at my cell phone – in case Dean had somehow called without me realizing he had – I blew out a bored and restless little grumble then with nothing else to do, switched on the TV.
Predictably the channels were jam-packed with spook stuff and I flicked through them sullenly, hoping a romance might come on. Sadly on that front I was destined to be disappointed – one hundred and fifty channels and nothing to watch – so I sat back and left it on the next thing that flicked up, which, as it turned out, was The Blair Witch Project.
Great.
My first instinct was to turn it back over but then my phone pinged and I quickly snatched it up.
D: Just landed now, delays at the airport, be back in a couple of hours, don't wait up x
Taking another long sip of my tipple and then undermining the general sense of glamour by dunking an Oreo in after that, I replied to Dean both slowly and one-handed as – back on the screen – three figures trampled through the woods.
Me: It's fine, I'm not tired, I'm watching a movie.
D: Which movie?
Me: Blair Witch Project.
D: You're watching that? Yeah, right.
I frowned at the screen with a strange sort of outrage, practically able to hear Dean's wry snort. So okay, I wasn't the bravest of people but surely I could handle a fifteen year old film? A fifteen year old film that children around the country had flocked to see when it had initially come out. If they could handle it, then so could I.
I was an adult.
I would be fine.
After firing back a message at my boyfriend informing him briskly of both those facts, I put my phone down, settled deeper beneath my comforter and turned the sound back on.
Holy gods.
Just a couple of weeks earlier, I had been kidnapped and handcuffed to a bed by a crazy ass hillbilly tribe. The twenty four hours I had spent in their company had easily been the worst of my life and every single second of the abduction had been horrible and drenched in fear of what would come next. But somehow sitting alone on All Hallows, watching the Blair Witch Project felt infinity as bad. Not in the sense that a bearded redneck was hanging over me trying to sing, but the movie was jumpy and deeply irrational and so unpredictable and god damn dark. The parts shot in the daylight were creepy but watchable but once the night scenes came, I could barely stand to watch. The only thing that kept me going was knowing that Dean would have a field day if I bailed out and although I debated just pretending I'd seen it, I wasn't a great liar and he would see right through that.
I took another sip of my wine and glanced round nervously.
Wow, had the room always been this dark?
I had all the usual lamps and bulbs on, but there were long looming shadows crowding the walls that I'd sort of never noticed before. Were they always there? I mean, obviously they had to be. But then it was Halloween and I was all on my lonesome so maybe they were ghosts or some sort of demon spawn?
"Okay Lauren," I chided myself briskly, although the echo of my voice in the room made me jump, "Time to get a hold of yourself here, or – you know – maybe put down the wine."
As it turned out, watching the movie sober was actually worse than being slightly drunk and I ended up virtually watching it through my finger cracks, my heartbeat pounding right up in my head.
I felt unsettled, I felt weirdly anxious and – oh dear god – the drapes had a gap. Anyone could have been watching me through them. What if a madman had snuck into the back yard and was sharpening his axe as I sat and watched TV? What if a crazed witch who the house had been built on had risen from her grave and was coming for revenge?
Scrambling from the couch – having lost all sense of reason – I flung the drapes wide and flicked on the outside light, giving a pre-emptive and terrified gasp as I blinked across the porch.
Eek.
No one was there.
The yard was devoid of mummies and zombies and the pool didn't contain a single floating corpse. Pulling the gap closed, I turned into the room again and allowed myself to drop back with a sigh. A scream from the movie abruptly made me startle and something flashed up on the screen and then fled.
What the hell was I doing even watching it?
I was frightening myself.
Scratch that.
I was terrified.
In an instant the knowledge that Dean would probably needle me, seemed infinitely better than having a heart attack and with my mind well and truly made up on the matter, I stepped towards the couch again to turn the damn thing off.
It was at that point however that the TV went black magically, followed in an instant by everything else. The lamps went dead, the technology stopped whirring and left me standing – unseeing – in the dark.
"Crap," I squeaked, sort of screaming alongside it as my heart promptly tried to launch out of my chest. What a damn night to have an actual power cut. At least, I hoped that's what it was.
What if it wasn't though?
What if it was more than that?
Like a killer in the basement hacking at the fuse box, or a vampire cult or even nuclear fallout? Stumbling forward and bashing my shin heavily against what I assumed was the edge of the chair, I began to grope around for my cell phone, praying I had battery to turn on the light.
"Ow," I whimpered as my leg complained bitterly and I bent down to rub it as I fumbled across the couch, "Come on, come on – oh please – where are you?"
Finding my cell within the folds of the comforter was almost like winning first prize in a race and I seized it up as my fingers clattered over it and almost started to weep with relief. The tiny little pin light shone out bright and easily and although I feared the thought of sweeping it around me – worried about what the beam might show up – it was so much better than standing in the darkness and so with it I tentatively stepped into the hall. My aim was to get upstairs to a window and see if the entire road was out. That way I could at least put to bed my fear of maniacs and try to relax until the power was restored.
Halfway out into the hall there was a loud click and my pulse exploded.
What the hell was that?
My heart had been pounding so loud in my head anyway that I hadn't even properly heard the full noise, which meant naturally – in line with my generalized worries – I started to imagine all kindsof gruesome things.
Oh god, oh god, please don't kill me.
As something moved in right alongside me, I swung my phone round into a face and then screamed. Hands came up and seized my arms suddenly and I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed loudly a little more.
The familiar tones broke through only gradually and were further helped along by gentle fingers on my cheeks, cupping my face in a sweet attempt to soothe me,
"Lauren? Calm down. It's okay. It's just me."
"D-Dean?" I stuttered, shaking like a jellyfish or a tiny frightened child.
"Yeah, I'm here."
"I th-thought you were a murderer."
In the slightly muted phone light I saw him quirk an eyebrow and it was clear that he didn't quite follow my crazy thread.
"Why the fuck would I be a murderer?"
"Because the lights went out – ,"
"It's a power cut, alright? Lights are out everywhere. So are the traffic signals. Gettin' home was fuckin' fun. Like the Wacky Races out there, 'cept a whole lot less friendly. Almost got run off the damn road."
With a sudden surge of gratitude I dove in towards him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He stood for a second in what was probably bewilderment but then duly grunted and responded in kind, dropping his lips down onto my hair gently and holding them there until I felt safe,
"I'm so glad you're home."
"Not enjoyin' the Blair Witch Project?"
I shook my head sullenly,
"God no, I hated it. Then the lights went out and I thought that maybe – maybe it was some kind of witch, or a madman with a hook instead of proper fingers, or the end of the world, or – ,"
"Sssh. Hey, it's none of that, alright? Unless – you know – I've got the real Dean tied up in the trunk of my car and I'm actually a shapeshifter who's taken his form."
As he spoke he dropped his head down growling and nipped the skin at the base of my neck. I squeaked and instantly tried to duck away from him but he merely chuckled and held on tight.
"Dean," I frowned, "It's not funny, stop it."
Then I promptly squeaked – okay screamed – again as my cell phone gave out and took the light with it. For the second time in what amounted to minutes, I was stood in total darkness although this time I wasn't alone. My sucker-fish hold on Dean quickly tightened and I started to breathe worriedly.
Ugh.
What a night.
In response to both my freak out and the continued blackout, Dean sighed heavily then reached for my hand. It meant having to somewhat untangle me from my death grip but he managed to do it with minimal fuss, merely sort of walking backwards away from me before turning and pulling me coaxingly along.
"Let's say we get some light back in here, huh?"
I nodded mutely then remembered he couldn't see me,
"God yes please."
"You know, this could almost be kinda fun."
"Fun?" I blinked, "What? Sitting in the dark in terror? You know, sometimes I think we see things in totally different ways."
Dean chuckled lightly then groped at the doorframe as he carefully felt his way back into the lounge. Maybe as a result of years of wrestling and always having to be in position or on point, he was able to skirt the lounge pretty easily and except for a moment when he barked against the coffee table and let out a patented fuck we got there fine. Towing me past him, he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down to sit on the raised hearth,
"Stay there Princess," he instructed but he was grinning, even in the darkness I could still hear that, "I'm gonna show you how much fun we can have here."
Then there was the sound of scratching along the fireplace and I tensed in horror,
"Oh god, what was that?"
"Still me Princess," Dean growled distractedly, clearly fiddling with something by my side. There was a tiny little whooshing sound but before I could question him, the fireplace beside me glowed and then burst into life. The orange glow it threw out was instantly warming and better than that, it lit the room up.
Well, sort of.
The void of darkness retreated as if scared by it and although the tall dark shadows still lingered and danced, the immediate area around me felt safe again and I gaped in astonishment.
Of course.
It worked on gas.
Why the hell hadn't I thought of that?
Pushing the cover back over the control panel, Dean turned back until we were almost face to face. His expression looked smug and totally adorable and his blue eyes reflected the flames like a glass.
"Better?"
"Uh huh,"
I leant forward and kissed him and as he deepened the contact my hands rose up to cup his face. It was like I was trying to anchor myself to him and in response he ran his fingers lightly down my back, his slight height advantage as he bent in over me making my head tilt as I thrusted it up.
"See?" he offered, as he finally broke the smooching, still looking proud, "I told you it could be fun."
"More please," I whispered and Dean chuckled at me,
"Ever done it in front of a fire before?"
I shook my head and he grinned at my expression, which I had to admit was probably wide-eyed. Just the long lingering kiss alone had triggered me and I was tingling with excitement as I blinked up and bit my lip. It was kind of a teasing thing since I already knew he loved it and as expected he sucked a quick breath in and growled,
"Fuck."
From the force of the expletive I guessed things were stirring and it made me giggle as he abruptly stood up. Suddenly I had direct eye-to-crotch contact and – yep – there was a definite growing tell-tale bulge. Leaning in closer I bumped my head against it before very slowly dragging my nose tip up and down. The denim of his jeans scratched my skin a little but it was worth it to feel him shudder then push me back.
Bending in again he caught my lips fiercely, his tongue sliding searchingly over my lips. It was wet and warm and made my body prickle with a deep-seated and increasingly urgent kind of need. Just as I was about to grant him access however and open my mouth for a deeper, hotter kiss, he pulled away and bumped against my forehead, grumbling at me,
"Don't go anywhere."
I may have even actually whimpered as he turned and suddenly strode away from me. I was pretty sure I should have tried for passionate or angry but I simply couldn't help it.
I needed him so much.
Luckily he didn't plan on leaving me completely and instead simply went as far as the couch. Snatching off the fur throw, he came back towards me and then draped it on the ground, the softer fibres facing up. It was a pretty sweet gesture and I smiled at him – touched by it – which he evidently caught as he briefly glanced back,
"Not about to slam you into the hardwood here Princess, you're not the kinda girl I could ever treat like that."
In the grand scheme of things his gruff little sentence was hardly the most romantic ever said, but coming from him it certainly felt like it and my heart sort of fluttered in instinctive response. Of course it also implied that he'd formerly dated women who were bare floor types, but that wasn't the point.
The point was that I – on the other hand – was not one, which meant in Dean Ambrose terms, he was treating me like a Queen.
I was still pondering his newfound vaguely romantic side when he reached out a hand and firmly snagged mine, pulling me so hard that I slid straight off the hearth surround and toppled with a squeal of amusement into his arms.
"Dean – ,"
"Don't worry, I gotcha."
"Hmmm, so are you going to kiss me some more now?"
Grinning at my impatience his face swooped in towards me and this time when I parted my lips he didn't pull back. Instead he carried on, sliding his tongue deeper and then using it to desperately search out mine. At the same time his hand rose to cup my head gently and pull me against him ever more close. The make out session was wet and mildly frantic, like we were two horny teenagers whose curfews were nearly up and the feelings the open-mouthed kisses created tingled straight through me, right down to my toes. Considering that only ten minutes earlier I'd been terrified, things had turned out pretty well and if Dean really was some interloping shapeshifter then he kissed so amazingly I didn't much mind. The thought made me giggle and I hummed into his mouth a bit, breaking the contact to let loose a laugh,
"Somethin' funny Princess?"
"No," I sniggered, watching him arch a brow down at me, "Just thinking what the real Dean would do if he caught us, getting all hot and heavy in the middle of the lounge."
"Hot and heavy?" Dean repeated, "Is that another one of your dirty little terms?"
"It's better than sexy time."
"Yeah but only barely."
I swatted him,
"Hey – ,"
But he silenced me quickly with another searching kiss, pushing his chest against my body and putting me off balance until I dropped back to the floor. Dean was right, I did like comfort and sank into the throw rug with a sigh of sheer bliss. In an instant Dean had dropped low to hover over me, his sizeable forearms framing my head.
"Well, I don't know what the real Dean would do to this sexy body, but I can certainly fuckin' guess. You wanna hear what I think?"
I nodded excitedly at him,
"Uh huh,"
This was going to be really good.
"First," he growled, ducking his face down and ghosting his lips in over my ear, "I think he would probably work down that little neck of yours and mark every single fuckin' spot as he went – ,"
His kisses did just that, starting on my earlobe and then following my jawline, stopping briefly at my mouth. I squirmed a little in comfortable ecstasy and dragged my hands down until they hung off his hips. Placing a knee between my closed legs, he nudged them open and then dropped lower down, his crotch hanging over my body so closely that I could feel the heat rolling off him.
It felt nice.
"Then I think he'd need to get that blouse off and see what he's missin' – ,"
I bucked my hips up, teasing him by bumping again against his package and making him curse a little as his fingers dropped down. With one arm still anchoring him over my body, the other began to work my buttons loose, stopping after fumbling the first couple open as his eyes drank in his handiwork.
"Oh yeah," Dean licked his lips, "He'd definitely like this."
My shirt had fallen open to reveal my push-up bra and my breasts rising and falling as my chest heaved up and down. Reaching in, Dean centred his palm around one of them and the warmth of his touch made my nipple react. I let out a breath and he immediately began rubbing, stroking it quickly and repeatedly with his thumb.
"What if he walks in and finds us?" I whispered, shutting my eyes and fingering his hem. He responded by sitting up and pulling off his t-shirt before folding back down and dropping his chest against mine,
"Would you like it if he did?"
I nodded.
What? Two Deans? Find me a woman who wouldn't want that?
"Uh huh."
"Is this your way of sayin' you want a threesome?"
He sounded apprehensive and I quickly shook my head,
"No – no threesome, don't want that," I murmured back at him, bucking my hips up a wistful second time and then tilting them back and forth so they rubbed against his jean fronts, "Two of you – only two of you."
"Glad to fuckin' hear it," Dean chuckled above me, leaning in to give me another longing kiss.
"Dean – ," I mumbled, my hands sliding upwards, raking his smooth back and then through his hair. He seemed to get how urgently I needed him and unhooked my buttons the rest of the way. Rocking back a little he brought me up with him and I shrugged off the loose material while he unclipped my bra. As my breasts made a happy little launch towards freedom, he cupped them with his hands and very gently squeezed, moving them together and massaging them temptingly as he kissed first me and then them in turn.
Oh god.
So good.
Groaning a little I flopped back away from him, catching him around the neck and pulling him down. Once we had assumed our cosy position, he continued on his mission to make my breasts stand up and in response to his attentions I administered my own touch, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding down the zip. It gave me enough room to slip my hand beneath his boxers and he cursed around my nipple and briefly jolted,
"Shit."
"What would real Dean have to say about that?" I whispered coyly as Dean shook his head at me,
"I think he'd say fuck."
I grinned,
That was true.
He probably would.
With his jeans unbuttoned the hard work was done and so tugging them down and sliding them across his ass cheeks wasn't too difficult. It was also pretty nice. It allowed me to shamelessly feel-up his backside and I was more than on board with that.
Anytime.
"Are you assaultin' me right now Princess?"
"Like a horny businesswoman on a commuter train, yes."
He laughed and the sound made me broadly grin back at him. Who knew having sex could actually be fun? With my ex-boyfriend it had always been sensible and functional, but with Dean it was carefree and silly and hot. As his lips once again found out mine in the firelight, I let out a happy little chirrup of a note, all the while working the band of his shorts down until he hung naked above me, glowing like a god.
"Your turn now," he growled against my earlobe, snaking down my body and nipping at my skin. His teeth flashed over my navel and I giggled, which made him bite a tiny bit more.
"Dean – ," I panted, trying to push him off me and save the most responsive of my ticklish spots. It didn't work well though – which in hindsight was a good thing – and he continued tracing down to grab my sweatpants with his teeth.
Huh?
Evidently he had moved on from being a shapeshifter and had become a variant form of werewolf instead. As his head butted my groin like I had done to him earlier, my hips tremored beautifully and I decided that was fine.
"Who's a good boy?" I murmured at him mildly and he raised one eyebrow,
"Want me to lick my balls as well?"
Covering my face, I let out a peal of laughter, not resisting as he placed his hands on my ass. Lifting me up until I was bridging, he pulled my pants the rest of the way off, finishing by peeling away my underwear and sexy bed socks and tossing the whole lot across the darkened room.
"You ready Princess?" he growled and I nodded, reaching down and massaging his almost risen shaft. I circled my fingertips around the head teasingly and then grazed my nails along the inside of his leg. As I did, Dean continued to kiss me deeply, alternating tongue lashings with loving little pecks.
The heat of the fire was gloriously warming, mixed with the relatively cool October air and the duality of being cold and also kind of roasting made my body both tingle and stand up on end.
Dropping my legs apart and still drinking in kisses, I waited for Dean to lower himself down. It meant I was surprised when he wrapped his arms around me and then suddenly rolled us both until we were lying on our side,
"What the – ,"
"Trust me," he murmured at me huskily and I blinked across into his bright and aroused eyes. His face was so close I could feel his breath on me and I liked the proximity and the position,
"Okay."
Reaching down he pulled my leg towards him, hooking it up and over his ass. I let him do it silently, my heart beating madly as I both trembled and yearned for what was to come. Shuffling down a little so his hips were slightly lower, brought us directly face to face and I leaned across and kissed him as I exhaled, humming that same happy note into his mouth.
"Mmmm."
Shifting his legs until he was straddling me sideways, Dean began to ease himself in, making the movement both slow and careful as I wiggled my hips to find an angle that would fit. The fact that we were so close together meant that I could reach out and wrap my arms around his head, pulling him close and then pillowing into his shoulder until eventually he was in and – god – it felt good. I wasn't sure if it was to do with position or the fact that we could lie side by side, but something about the proximity and informality of it made it seem intimate and sensationally hot. It was easily our most romantic encounter – more than that, the most romantic encounter of my life – and the fact that Dean reached over and kissed me made it even more amorous.
This wasn't just sex.
We were making love.
Due to the fact we were lying in sleep positions, thrusting up and down was almost completely out. Just as I was wondering what we would do instead however, Dean began to slowly work his hips across the floor, moving in and out in tiny little motions that I instinctively forced even deeper with my leg – burying it into the soft flesh of his ass cheeks and urging him in as I started to moan.
"That feel good baby?"
I gripped his neck tighter and bit against his shoulder in elation.
Yes.
"Fuck."
Evidently I had bitten a little too fiercely and I drew back and gently thumbed the mark of my teeth,
"Sorry,"
"Easy Princess," he panted breathlessly, the words ghosting over my lips we were so close, "May have to stop callin' you my dirty girl – start callin' you a fuckin' animal 'stead – ,"
The closer the both of us moved towards finishing, the more broken and drawled his sentence had become and I clutched him tighter and pressed my face against his clavicle, gasping in anticipation of what was about to come.
It was a beautiful feeling – dropping over the precipice – and I threw back my head as a shrill moan tore from my throat. Every last part of me felt fizzy and hazy and there was a deep and happy throbbing that vibrated through my soul.
Wow.
I barely even registered Dean coming after me, that's how consumed I was with the buzz and it wasn't until he leant forward and kissed my nose tip that I was aware he had stopped gently rocking in and out.
The blue eyes were staring across at me drowsily in that post-sex way that looked worshipped and raw. Reaching up a hand, he cupped my face tenderly and swept his thumb across my flushed and throbbing cheek. Snuggling in towards him, I dropped my head against him and tucked myself right in under his neck. The words tumbled out before I could stop them and I whispered them into the sweaty curves of his chest,
"I love you Dean, I love you so much."
"Love you back Princess – that's why I do this romantic shit."
Easing himself out of me without disturbing our position, Dean wrapped his arms around my back in a hug.
"It was romantic," I nodded against him, "Really romantic – can that be our thing?"
"That position?"
"Uh huh,"
"Whatever you want Princess," he kissed my hair, "Not like I could ever turn you down."
For a second we lay in the crackling firelight but with the flush of sex hormones beginning to ebb away from me, my nakedness won out and I shivered and ducked in close. In response Dean leant over and dragged across the blanket, tucking us into a cosy little nest. Squirming a little, I rolled onto my other side, shunting back against him and feelings his arms wind round,
"Dean?"
"Mmhmm?"
"Where did you learn to do that? Did you just make it up, or – ,"
He chuckled at me,
"Nah, some girl I used to hook up with back in Florida – Kaleigh or Haley? Somethin' like that. She wanted to do it once, said it was super intimate,"
Despite myself, my heart fell a little and I struggled to sound natural instead of vaguely crushed,
"Oh."
Hearing it Dean tugged me in a little closer, dropping his lips against my ear,
"I turned her down."
I blinked,
"You did?"
"I did," Dean murmured, "Didn't wanna get into that whole deal with her – didn't wanna give her the wrong idea about us, make her think we were somethin' we weren't."
"Was she a slam into the hardwood kind of person?"
Dean laughed at me again,
"Yeah, she was."
"But I'm not, right?"
I was being ridiculous, but fortunately he didn't seem to mind too much, simply dropping his head down into my shoulder and breathing me in deeply,
"No Princess, you're not."
I nodded,
"Okay."
Thanks to the fire and the warmth of the throw rug and the wine and – oh yeah – the protective hold of Dean's arms, I began to feel myself getting sleepy and eventually let my eyelids flicker shut. From somewhere behind me and just above my earlobe, I heard Dean let out a contented sounding groan, shuffling a little as he ducked his head closer and nuzzled through my hair.
He was very nearly out,
"Dean?" I whispered, not wanting to break the stillness and he hummed back wearily,
"Wha', you alright?"
"How often do these blackouts happen around here?"
"Not often, don't worry,"
I shook my head at him,
"Uh, I'm not,"
"Then why you askin'?" Dean mumbled back at me and I reached down and curled my fingers around his, tangling up the digits draped lazily across my hipbone and squeezing them tightly,
It's just – I don't know – do you think if I asked really, really nicely, they might be able to make them happen every week?"
There you go, my little Halloween ficlet is done! As ever, please let me know what you're thinking.
See you back here in two weeks time for Homecoming...