Gillian wakes to the feeling of eyes on her skin. Blinking rapidly as her eyes adjust to the brightness of the sunlit room, she stretches her arms over her head and releases an open-mouthed yawn. She is slow to realize that she's not at home in bed but tangled up in Cal's sheets in nothing but her silk panties and his starched shirt.

Her cheeks are warm as she turns over to meet his watching, holding the panels of the shirt together with one hand. "Hi," she smiles.

"Morning," he says.

His eyes follow to her hand clutching for modesty, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. He obviously doesn't understand how the morning could be different. But for her it is. She shifts into half-sitting, leaning casually against the headboard as she draws her limbs away from Cal. She wonders if he was intrigued or disrupted by her snoring. She'd always done it. But his hair is mussed and his cheek imprinted from the pillow like he's had sleep so she hopes it's the former.

Her hand is tentative to touch him, but after a few moments rests on his cheek. She rubs her knuckles against his skin and wriggles slightly closer. He wraps an arm around her, putting them chest to chest. Gillian leans her cheek against the curve of his neck and closes her eyes to the comfort of Cal running his hands up and down her back. Her warm breath pillows back against her chin as she breathes by his shoulder. Cal holds Gillian until it gets really warm, then puts space between them.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks abruptly, her face coming up from its study of the sheets to meet his eyes, hers wide. Her fingertips that were resting against his shoulder in a loose embrace dig into his skin.

"Cal-" she says, her voice seizing in the space before she gasps. She forces her face still, imagining stone unchanging through millennia, just sitting in the bottom of the ocean where nothing ever happens. It was likely inaccurate, but a comforting thought.

"I would, Gill. If you wanted," he replies, nodding in her general vicinity but no longer meeting her eyes.

"Cal-" she begins again, her words clipped and taut and her cheeks heating up again for an all-new reason.

"I mean, honest here, it's always been up to you, Gill."

"Shouldn't be," she huffs, rubbing her palm into his chest in what was meant as a comforting gesture as she finally gets a word in.

"And why not, Gill?"

Her heart races with a surge of adrenaline.

"Because it has to be what you want. You have to do what you want or I-I would hate myself," she says, eyes falling back down to where her fingers make contact with his chest.

She moves her hand over the muscular expanse, absently searching out his heartbeat. As she feels its pulsing against her palm, she gets a firm grip on her emotions.

"I want what you want."

He says it as if it was the easiest truth that has ever passed his lips. It unsettles her, though, that she can't hear a lie in it even though she'd been listening for just that.

"No," she shakes her head. "That's not-"

She sighs, withdrawing her touch to run her fingers through her hair.

"I pushed you. Yesterday, I pushed you. I made you say it even though you didn't...weren't...I just don't want you to hate me," she says, voice quiet and unsure. "And, well what if you're wrong?"

She knows that a refusal to meet his eyes probably reads as shame even as she does it, but looking at him would be far worse. Then, she'd be showing everything.

"Heavens, Gill! I don't-I could never hate you," he insists.

He tips her chin up with his thumb, a slight frown on his face. She tucks in against his chest, hiding from the intensity of his gaze.

"If you want to go, you should. I'd be just fine," she says, words muffled by his undershirt.

"Wouldn't miss me?"

"Of course I would, you know that."

That manages to shut him up for a minute as he mulls it over, winding an arm around her shoulders.

"I would've told you," he says finally.

She smiles at him, but it's lopsided, only pulling all the way up on the right side.

"I know."

"So tell me, love. Do you want me to stay? 'Cause I don't-I..."

"You don't what, Cal? Use your words," she teases gently, covering how desperately she wants a certain answer from him.

"I don't want to stay unless I'm staying for you, for us this way."

The words come in a rush, flowing as sure as the waters of a stream even as his face crumples in doubt.

"Oh," she says, lips parted. "You want..."

"Yeah..."

She is silent for a long time before she squeezes against his arm.

"I want that, too."

"Really?"

She nods, hearing his tone pitch higher without losing any fullness.

"If you want to stay, I would gladly stay with you. Like this."

"In my house?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

She swats at him, though not hard enough to make him think her entirely serious.

"Maybe if you ask nicely," she teases.

"I didn't want to be alone here, but I never wanted to leave you... You know I love you."

She smiles.

"Yeah, I know."

Content, she lays her head against his chest, listening intently to the sure stuttering of his heart. His arm winds tighter around her, making her feel warm and safe.

"Thank you for staying," Gillian says. "For letting me love you."


Edited as of 25/11/2017 for grammar, tense, style, flow, and the elimination of head-hopping.