A/N: Here's more! Good reviews make my whole day better, so a big s/o to MizBizSav! Thanks :)
All rights belong to Kelley Armstrong.
Olivia had been spending the night at Gabriel's apartment more often since they started the Carlton case. They would work at the office late into the night, fueled by coffee and the spirit of avoidance on Olivia's part. Avoiding Cainsville. Avoiding any reminders of Ricky.
Gabriel had spent so many all-nighters at his office that it hardly seemed unusual to him, considering how difficult the Carlton case was proving to be, but when he walked into the conference room at 2 am one night to find Olivia asleep on the table, he made her promise to set an alert on her phone to go off at midnight. A signal to them both to stop working and get some sleep.
The first night she had simply settled into the passenger seat of the Jaguar, her phone casting a blue glow around the interior of the car. Gabriel paused, engine idling.
"It's really too late to drive back to Cainsville," he ventured.
"Yeah..."
"Perhaps you should consider getting another apartment. In Chicago."
"Mmm. Not tonight, though." She looked up from her phone. "Do you mind? If I just crash on your couch again tonight?"
"Not at all." He put the car in gear and pulled out into the street. "Although you do not have to take the couch."
"Yes, I do. For one thing, I fit. You don't."
"I fit on my couch."
She laughed softly.
"I do," he protested.
"You do not. I should get you one of those fabulous sofa-bed thingies like I have."
"Because that would add so much to the decor."
She never said what the second thing was, but Gabriel thought he knew. He mentally added "Sleeping in Gabriel's room," to the list of things Olivia deemed improper. (It was a very short list.)
And then it just kept happening. If they stayed until midnight, Olivia came home with him.
Gabriel wasn't sure if this was exactly the thing they should be doing, but he couldn't bring himself to suggest she sleep elsewhere. And after all, he justified to himself, as Olivia herself had said, they were...friends. This was something that friends did. Maybe. He didn't have much—or any—experience in the "Friend" department.
The alarm went off as usual that Thursday night, but they stayed working until after one. By the time they made it back up to the apartment on the fifty-fifth floor, Olivia had taken off her tall shoes and was no longer communicating in full sentences.
She stood for a minute just inside the door, swaying slightly. Gabriel placed a hand at her back and guided her pointedly over to the couch, still draped in the microfiber throw from last night.
"Good night, Olivia."
"Yes." She dropped down, curled up, and covered herself in the throw in one fluid motion. She was asleep before Gabriel left the room.
4 am. Olivia.
Gabriel shot up in bed, eyes wide in the darkness, calculating threat levels and the distance to weapons. He almost didn't realize what exactly had woken him, until the sound came again: Olivia, crying out in her sleep.
She was gripping the edge of the sofa cushion with a claw-like hand, jerking her head back and forth in a slight, violent motion.
Gabriel stepped further into the living room. She didn't look like she was having a vision. She looked like she was about to fall off the sofa.
He crossed to her, lunging to catch her at the end of a particularly sharp movement. She tumbled off the edge of the sofa and brought him down with her, flailing against him and the blanket. He tried to pull her closer to stop the flailing and she cracked him in the chin with the back of her head, suddenly awake and saying "Fuck" very loudly in the dark living room.
They stared at each other for a moment. Gabriel realized he was still holding her arms. He let go quickly.
"Fuck," she said again, more quietly, and turned away, her hand to her mouth.
He wondered if she was going to throw up, and then realized she was crying. Silently, trying to hold back sound and movement. Because of him.
Now Gabriel felt sick.
She took a deep breath and turned to face forward, wiping her hand against the blanket. "Sorry about that," she said, her voice almost normal.
"You have nothing to apologize for."
"Falling on you. Swearing. All that." She waved a hand somewhat expressively between them.
"Olivia, you have nothing to apologize for."
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"You never make me uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable...with myself."
He couldn't see her face very clearly, but he knew she was looking at him now, that particular Olivia look: empathy, and understanding, and a glare that said Fight Me.
"I don't know how to—comfort someone. I know what is socially expected, but I've never..." He trailed off again. Her eyes had not left his and he found himself continuing, "I don't know how."
She looked away. Gabriel wondered if he could gracefully stand up and make it back to the bedroom before she noticed he was gone.
She disentangled her legs from the blanket and scooted closer to where he sat on the carpet, back to the sofa.
"Don't freak out," she warned. He was about to ask why he would, when she lifted his right arm and draped it over her own shoulders.
He went rigid. What was she doing?
She very carefully arranged herself next to his side, pulling the blanket after her, and gently laid her head on his chest. She shifted around slightly, and then lay still, a warm and heavy weight against him.
"You can relax," she said after a moment.
Gabriel exhaled. "What—um." He cleared his throat. "What were you dreaming about?"
"I dreamt someone shot the glass out of your window." Her voice was a reverberation against his rib cage. "I was hanging over the edge, and I couldn't hold on."
"The glass is actually bulletproof."
"Good to know."
Her breathing slowed, and in a few minutes he said her name softly and she didn't answer. She was asleep again.
He kept his arm across her back where she'd placed it, his hand resting on her shoulder. He was afraid if he moved, she would wake up.
A section of her hair lay across her face, the end of the curl sticking into her nose. Every time she breathed it would tickle against her nose and she'd twitch. He carefully removed the strand and laid it behind her ear.
It slid back.
He tried again. He tried five more times; the curl would not stay. If it kept falling there, tickling in and out of her nose when she breathed, she would surely wake up, and if she woke up, she would get up. And as uncomfortable as Gabriel was, he would not have moved right at that moment for a thousand dollars and the perfect defense for Carlton.
He lifted the curl away like before, tucked it behind her ear, and rested his hand lightly on the side of her head to keep it in place. She shifted against him, and he rubbed his thumb against her hair to calm her.
He hadn't known he knew how to do that.
Somewhere beyond the smoggy clouds of Chicago the sun was just starting to come up. Gabriel sat on the plushy carpet of his apartment, Olivia curled up against him, stroking her hair and watching the sun find it's way up to morning again.