They doze together when they can. It's the waking Jiro likes best; Naoko smiles at him sleepily, fingers dancing over his back, shoulders, linking behind his neck. Jiro's heart clenches. He brushes a kiss to her jaw, smiling against it when she makes a happy little noise.

"Morning, love," he says. There's something about these early sunlit moments—an awe that fills him, lending a hushed quality to his voice. Jiro looks and looks and can't quite believe—well, any of it. Naoko dappled in sunlight, her body soft and warm in his arms.

"Morning," Naoko says, just as soft. She turns her face into his neck but he can hear the smile in her voice. "Did you dream of Caproni again?"

"No." It's no lie. His Caproni dreams are waking ones, surreal out of body experiences that feel realer than anything. Jiro's nightmares are a different matter—twisted metal and charred bodies haunt him every time he closes his eyes. But all of that seems so far away from here. Jiro smiles, cards his fingers through Naoko's hair. "I dreamt of you."

"Oh?"

Definitely a smile.

"You were painting paper planes; I'd hand you a new one every time you finished. You got a little on your face. Paint, I mean. You laughed when I tried to kiss it away. Not one of my better ideas, I admit. Tasted awful, but your smile—it made it worth it." Words crowd behind his teeth: you didn't cough blood once; you were happy and beautiful and we had all the time in the world. Jiro swallows, throat working. "It was a good dream."

His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears.

Naoko lifts her head to look at him, gently touching his cheek. Her eyes are so soft, so understanding. It shames him. She's so strong. Stronger than him.

"Today is going to be a good day," Naoko says. "Do you know how I know? Because I woke up in your arms."

"Naoko—"

Her fingers touch his mouth. "Sssh."

He kisses them, making her eyes crease at the corners. He wants to kiss the skin there too; feel her laughter on his cheek. He wants so much.

"You're right," Jiro says, pressing his nose to her shoulder. He smiles there, closing his eyes. The pressure behind them will dissipate. It always does. "Today is a good day."

Naoko's lips on his hair. Her arms tight around him. Jiro holds it all close for later. Tucks it in the space between his ribs for safekeeping; the place where she lives and breathes.

It's all he—all they can do.