Everything belongs to BBC, of course.

Tonight I'll sleep in Harry Cunningham's arms

I am woken up by the strange sensation.

Opening my eyes just slightly I recognize the familiar shadow by my side. It's him, of course. I realize I am lying in my bed wearing very little and he is by my side, placing sweet kisses all over my stomach. He doesn't know I am awake and I close my eyes enjoying this. I feel his familiar smell; his breath tickles my skin, there's familiar touch of his lips, familiar goose bumps that he provokes in me each and every time.

Of course he knows I'm awake couple of seconds later and now I feel his lips on my own and before I even open my eyes they are on my neck. I move my arms but he gently presses them down again and moves lower, his lips never leaving my skin.

For some time I can't think.

Then my hands are free and my fingers are in his hair as he moves down, kissing my thighs, his hands on my back now, lifting me up like I was a child. I close my eyes again, every coherent thought leaves my mind and all I feel is his hair under my fingertips and sensations that his kisses provide.

I open my eyes and stretch. It's the same location, I am in my bed again, light is low, it's warm and comfy, but I am wearing an old pink pyjamas and I am alone. He is not here. Still I smile.

Even in my dreams being with him makes me all warm and fuzzy, aroused and excited. It feels surreal, but at the same time like the most natural thing. Here is where he should always be. In my bed. By my side.

It takes me couple of minutes to open my eyes and with a smile that never leaves my lips I see that it's only 4 AM.

On Sunday morning. My day off. And I have dreamt about him. Like every time.

Even when there's a man of flesh and blood in my bed, it's still him. It's always him. It's always Harry. Ever since I've met him. In the last couple of years I even choose men similar to him. But I don't really need it.

I know him perfectly. I know feel of his naked skin on mine, his fingers on my face, his hair tickling my skin. I know it all. Even if his skin has never touched mine, even if my fingers have never run through his hair.

I know it all. I can feel it all.

There's no guilt this time. I can't control what I feel. Or what I think. Or dream. I smile again. Perhaps I am developing a mental illness if after all this time this morning I finally feel that it's okay to have these kinds of thoughts about my best friend, about my colleague.

I decide that I don't care.

All I can really think about is how I want him here in my bed, how I want to hear his voice each and every morning. How I know we both need it more than anything.

I try to fall asleep again, which is impossible of course.

Harry's face pops to my mind again and now even awake I feel his kisses again, his fingers are on my back and it's all back. I can see him, I smell him; hear his voice whispering something I can't quite decipher in my ear.

Until I realize that I am holding my phone and that that really IS him and that he really IS talking. I have gone crazy. Finally.

"Nikki! Wake up woman!"

"Good morning" I say pretending that I am conscious and that I know what I am actually doing. Or saying. I finally realize that I am holding my phone. It's only 0415, I certainly hope it's still the same Sunday. I am in control again. Kind of.

"Is there some unsuitable man in your bed that makes you this delusional?" he asks and I lose my mind again as hearing his manly voice after dreaming about him whole night is beyond reason.

"Maybe I should call when unsuitable leaves" I hear him say.

And then I've obviously lost what was left of my mind because I said "There is actually. I've been having extremely passionate night with you in my dreams until you've interrupted."

Pause. Silence. The world has stopped spinning.

I haven't just said that. I haven't. I couldn't have possibly.

Oh my God.

I pray that he hasn't had a heart attack or something of a kind because I can't hear him breathe.

Pause. Silence.

I am completely awake this time. I have regained my senses.

And I giggle.

"It was a joke of course Harry" I say and feel something crashing in my chest.

Silence. Still. I am not sure if the world is spinning again.

My cheeks are burning. I hear nothing.

And then he laughs. Nervously I can tell. I feel the pain in my chest again.

Still his laughter is the most beautiful sound.

Stop it Nikki, I shake my head uncontrollably and he talks again.

"Right. I am sorry to wake you up but Leo is gone for the weekend and I have four bodies pulled out of the lake. Need your help."

"Yes, of course" I say.

I might remember later what he has just said. Later when I can't hear his voice anymore and I am controlling my actions again.

What is it tonight that I am like this?

"So I'll see you in about an hour, I hope" I hear.

"Yeah" is all I manage to say.

He continuous jokingly "Maybe after work I can make your dreams come true" he giggles.

I can't take it anymore. Today is the day when this game ends.

"You know doctor Cunningham I may just choose to hold you on that one" I say.

Pause. Silence.

The world has most definitely stopped spinning this time.

To make it a joke or not?

He is not breathing.

Finally I hear him sigh.

Good, he is alive. I can almost see him with his mouth opened, his mind blank as we both know that we've meant it.

All of it. It was never a joke.

Should this be the day to end the game?

Or should I start giggling again so that we can resolve the tension in jokes and laughter like we always do?

Pause. Silence.

I look at the picture of the two of us on my bedside table.

His lips, his hair, his voice, his heart.

For a moment I close my eyes inhaling deeply.

Fully conscious of my actions I choose to press the red button on my phone, ending this call.

Today the game ends.

Whatever happens today it was coming for six years now.

Like a natural disaster. You can never stop it.

We've tried to postpone it but this is as far as it could've possibly gone.

Why tonight I don't know.

For I don't know how long I stare in the distance. Images of us running in front of my eyes.

The first time we've shaken hands, the first and only kiss we have ever shared, in the next memory he is hugging me and just a moment after my life has almost finished I feel like the luckiest woman alive.

I don't know how much time has passed but then I realize I am supposed to be at work in an hour. I remember something about the bodies and the lake.

Shower is my next thought. I need to shower.

Is the red strapless dress too much for work, I wonder.

Again there's the same silly smile on my lips, the one that hasn't left me this morning at all except for a moments when it had to be replaced by shock.

It's not too much. Not if I put a cardigan on, I conclude laughing as I feel warm water running down my body.

It will end today.

The game. And the life will finally begin.

Because there's no way we could not work out.

Tonight I'll sleep in Harry Cunningham's arms.

Happy New Year everyone!

Obviously I have no life so I wrote this tonight, on New Year's eve.

I've enjoyed it, though. It was a great fun and I hope you'll love it and review...

Please? =)

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