While You Were Sleeping

Summary: Ryan's thoughts on Taylor as he watches her sleep.

Pairing: Ryan/Taylor

Rated: K+

Disclaimer: Don't own The O.C, Taylor or, unfortunately, Ryan!

A/N: Thanks to Lexy for beta-ing this for me! Includes parts form The Sleeping Beauty and The Chrismukk-huh?

This is my first attempt at an OC fic, please be gentle!! Remember reviews are love!

The first time he watched her sleep he hadn't meant to. He had barely known her, definitely not as well as he knew her now. He hadn't known her but he had helped her anyway, because that's what he did, help people. He had saved her from a loveless marriage and she insisted on paying him back, of course she had an ulterior motive but he had been unaware at the time or at least assured to the opposite. He had had yet another sleepless night and was sat on a chair in the dimly lit pool house reading a book but not actually taking in the words, when she shifted in her sleep.

He had looked up from his book to the figure on the bed. Normally people didn't notice how small Taylor actually was because her personality was so large it felt like it took up a lot of the surrounding space. But as he watched her toss on the bed with a small frown on her delicate features, he wondered how much of her large personality was her armour. He and Taylor were definitely different he knew that, everyone knew that. They were complete opposites but similar at the same time. His armour was his silence and occasionally his fists; hers seemed to be her words, the constant hyper speak that went with the bubbly persona.

She tossed again and curled up into a small ball onto her side, her hair fanned out on the pillow, frown still in place. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Was it her mother, her French husband? That was a surprise, Taylor being married, but then Taylor seemed to be one surprise after another. From what he knew of her, he wouldn't have pictured her as an extreme romantic who'd fall for the Eiffel Tower, a view and a drunken proposal, but she had. He hadn't thought of her as the cooking type, but she had made him a torte, from his favourite fruit no less. He hadn't thought of her as being good with her hands, in fact he hadn't thought of her hands at all before tonight, but her massage although it hadn't fulfilled its purpose had definitely felt good. She had warm hands.

He had wondered just how much more there was of Taylor to know.

The red glow from the clock radio by the side of the bed had made him realise he had been watching her sleep for over an hour and a half, he had to get out of there. He had grabbed his clothes and left Taylor Townsend asleep on his bed to go for a run.

The second time he had watched her sleep he had woken with a smile on his face and a much closer view. Her back had been pressed closely to his chest, his arm around her waist and her soft legs entangled with his. They were now officially together. Him and Taylor a couple, it's funny how things work out. But that night he had almost ruined it, he had jumped to conclusions and hurt her feelings.

She had once told him that she could say what he was feeling before he even felt it because she thought about him and wanted him to be happy. He had wished he had done the same for her. He had thought that if she had any worries it would be over Marissa, that she would worry about being compared but he had dismissed that thought as soon as it entered his mind.

Taylor came as she was and didn't compromise for anybody. They either liked her or not, it didn't matter, eventually she'd win them over. That much he knew.

He had just wished she had told him how she felt earlier, so he could have silenced her worries with a kiss and made her happy. Taylor was different to any girl he had known, she had made him be a different man. He had thought about how he was four months before, in a cage taking a beating in order to feel something, anything. He had thought about how he'd never feel the way he did now again.

He thought about how Taylor in her own way had saved him.

There was only so much the Cohen's could do for him, if it hadn't been for Taylor he may still have been going from day to day talking to as few people as possible. It was because of her, he smiled. It was because of her he felt like he was alive, and not just living.

At the time he hadn't known where they were headed, he may not have loved her yet, but as he watched her smile in her sleep he had pulled her closer, and decided it didn't matter. He had come to the conclusion that with Taylor it was about the journey, not the destination.

Now as he watched her sleep he realised he hadn't done it in a long time. He had woken up with the urge to just look at her and with the moonlight streaming in through the window he could make out her form next to him. He wasn't holding her this time, in her state she told him she found it too uncomfortable and in case she had hurt his feelings she rambled on with a further explanation, because for her a simple one wouldn't do. He had laughed and told her he understood and that he couldn't even if he wanted too, to which she had replied with a playful swat on his arm.

They had come a long way from when they had first started dating to where they were now.

Taylor had blown her way into his life, barged into his thoughts and finally taken over his heart. He never would have thought of them working as a couple, he doubted that many people did. How wrong they had all been. As he softly brushed her hair to one side he couldn't imagine not having her in his life. Not being there when he woke up, or talking to her on the phone during the day or meeting her for lunch or introducing her to people as his wife. He ran his hand over her rounded stomach; he also couldn't imagine anyone else being the mother of his child.

She had asked him if he had first started to think of her differently after their kiss in the pool house, he had shook his head and pulled her close. He whispered softly in her ear that it was while she was sleeping.

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