Author's Note: Basically I read my previous form of this and said "Nope!", so I rewrote it. Same beginning, completely changes halfway through. I like this one much better, personally. That, however, does not mean that someday this form is exempt from a re-write sometime in the future.

For now, though, enjoy!

The Troubles of Gynophobia
Lon'qu and Cordelia

Cordelia, in her nightclothes, crept past the other tents. She was hoping that no one was awake with their tent flaps open, because honestly, she was only wearing so much under her gray nightgown. Tucking her hair behind her ear and being as quick and quiet as possible, she slipped past the tents until she reached the one. She knew it nearly as well as her own, though she hardly went inside. After all, she loved him, but by no means wanted him to feel uncomfortable. Tonight, however, she simply could not close her eyes without thinking of him. Tonight, she would ask.

She stopped before its opening, light seeping through the open flap, though a bit dim. She moved silently inside the tent, but only by a little, to gain some view of where he was.

He sat cross-legged on his cot reading slowly with a candle glowing that cast a gentle light. His gear was lined conveniently and very neatly near his bed. His knives were covered and his blades sheathed, bells meticulously strung around the sheath to alarm him if one were to touch them without his knowing.

A permanent frown was settled on his features.

He was clearly focused, otherwise she wouldn't have been standing there as long as she did. She tried to settle her stomach and her hands wrung themselves unconsciously as she took a step—just one—inside the tent.

"Cordelia?"

"Lon'qu," she said, and managed not to squeak. "What are you reading so late at night?" Her cheeks were a hard and blotchy red, but it wasn't too obvious in the dim light.

"Just…" he sighed, placing the book down. "...something. I couldn't sleep."

"Nor could I," she admitted unnecessarily.

He rubbed his eyes and began to get up. Hurriedly, she said, "Oh, no, love. I– I wanted to ask you something."

Instead, she came forward, closing the flap behind her, and knelt at the end of his bed. For a moment, she struggled with words as he settled back down again and waited with tired eyes.

"I– well… Lon'qu, we are married. And– and I would– I was wondering if I could… If I could sleep in your bed tonight," she said, still struggling with the words she had thought over more than a hundred times.

He no longer looked quite as tired. His eyes were sharp against her skin and it made her burn inside. "Cordelia–" he said slowly.

"I– We don't have to do– I just…" she mumbled helplessly, her hands fluttering and eyes locked by his.

"Why are you even asking?"

She gasped, and the walls went up. "Well it's only fair!" she said, loudly, then she blushed.

He went a little red as well, complexion nearly as frustrated as hers. "No. Wait. No—I mean why do you think you need to ask?" While her hands usually fluttered like small birds, his pressed together until a yellow–white. He gripped his own wrists until he lost blood circulation and the prickling made him focus. Focus on her cherry–colored hair and a bit of it stuck to her cheek.

A small breath hitched between her teeth. "Well, I—"

"I mean. You just said it. We're married," he said, and though even saying it made him feel delirious, he learned to see through his own dizziness. His eyes focused on her again. "I just–"

"But you–"

His teeth clicked together, then he managed to fit in a "I what?"

Her hair whipped about as she shook her head, bringing her palms up to rub at her eyes. "I thought maybe you needed time."

Lon'qu opened his mouth. Closed it. Then gave a gruff "no".

Cordelia's burgundy eyes narrowed onto him, then blinked. "No as in–"

"That—this is ridiculous."

She looked down at her fingers, his words sinking in, then began to giggle. "You're right!"

He choked a little. "I am?" A held–in breath escaped between his lips and he considered the laughter lines around her eyes by tilting his head.

Sighing, she crinkled her nose at him, one eyes scrunching up just a little bit more than the other. A shy smile crept into the corners of his mouth, but his eyes danced everywhere over her face and his heart was going rather faint. He was so bad at reading women. Why was she smiling?

Everything went weak and his whole head betrayed its sole purpose of forming thoughts when she reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair. "How do you manage such a bedhead?" she asked.

"S-sleeping," he replied, then closed his eyes tightly as his whole face was dominated by a bright flush. Instinctively, he moved his head down to hide the redness, eyebrows knitted together.

Her voice was quiet and nervous as her hands retreated from his hair. "I think I may need help with that." The words rose in a embarrassed question.

He cracked a single dark eye open before rubbing his nose and splitting into a smile. It was odd, because he had never smiled like that, and she almost didn't see it. It was as if he were so completely frazzled that he couldn't maintain any sort of his usual composure. It was slightly boyish and bizarre on his face, but all she could think was that it was wonderful.

That was the last thought before the candle sputtered out. "Oh," she said.

Something knocked into her—some part of him—and he started to laugh. Suddenly, everything was so much easier in the dark.

"Oh g-gods," she stuttered. "Lon'qu?"

"Here." His breath stuttered very suddenly near her ear and she paused, startled.

"Do you have another candle?"

There was a small moment of silence, and nothing seemed to move at all.

"Lon'qu?"

"I'm actually a bit tired, Cordelia."

"I-I understand."

"There's not a lot of cot here."

"No. I guess not."

Another pause.

"Guess we'll just have to lie close," he said, and all she could do was nod. Her forehead knocked against his.

"Oh gods. Sorry!"

"Nope." His hands fumbled to find their way around her waist. He was unnecessarily gentle. "I'm not."

His arms eased her down, and she could feel him slightly under her, sturdy and strange. At that moment, she felt like she was all elbows-and-knees and impossibly warm.

"Are you– are you uncomfortable?"

"I'm fine."

She shifted. "I—"

"Are you?"

Not even needing an answer, he moved just a little, and it was as if suddenly she was meant to be nestled up to him just like that. "How about now?"

Faintly, she muttered a shy "yeah".

Somehow, his lips found the top of her head. "Goodnight, Cordelia."

A small breath, then—"G'night."