I woke up in a panic, frantically looking around the room to see where I am. I'm in a bed? This isn't my bed. Right, I'm at Walt's. But why am I in his bed? I look to my left, and there is a clock on the nightstand.

5:27 a.m.

I don't see Walt. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, noticing that I'm still fully clothed in my jeans and top that I wore to the Red Pony. I walk slowly, very slowly, because the hardwood floor creaks with each step I take. The bedroom door was left open, and when I get to the door frame I stay inside the bedroom but peer my head out into the living room. Walt is sound asleep on the couch. He is wearing the same clothes he was wearing at the party, except his denim shirt is only buttoned halfway, and he has a quilt covering his legs and part of his torso. He looks so peaceful. I slowly take another few steps to see if he is going to wake up to the noise. He doesn't. I make my way over to the couch, and stand over him. Now that I am this close to him, I can hear that he is snoring very lightly.

I smile to myself.

I notice for the first time that his hair is getting long in the front. At the angle that he's laying, the hair in front is dangling on his forehead, getting close to covering his eyes. I reach down and brush the hair off of his forehead with my fingers. He stirs a little under my touch, shifting his weight and turning his head towards the right. I freeze, but he doesn't open his eyes. I stand there for another thirty seconds or so, and he starts to snore again.

I shake my head. I never would have pegged Walt as a heavy sleeper. I decide to continue pushing my luck by going into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. The noise of the coffee maker doesn't even wake him up. I rummage through a couple of cupboards looking for a coffee mug, and quietly head out to the porch to watch the sunrise.

I sit there sipping on my coffee for awhile, just taking in the scenery. Man, Walt is so lucky to live out here. I wonder how often he sits out here in this very spot.

Some time later, I hear a loud sigh behind me. I spin around to see Walt standing in the doorway, he takes a sip from his coffee mug before opening the screen door.

"Good morning." He takes a few steps, stops, and takes another sip of his coffee, and turns towards me.

"Morning." I give him a small smile. "You didn't have to sleep on the couch, you know. I barely remember when we got here last night. Obviously, I could have slept anywhere. I didn't need to steal your bed."

"You don't even remember coming back here last night?" I swear he's smirking at me.

"Not really. The whole night is kinda fuzzy. I remember the first 4 or 5 beers…. and pulling you on the dance floor." I look up at him a little embarrassingly. "Sorry about that, I tend to impose on people's personal space when I drink."

He laughs. "I noticed."

"I hope I didn't do anything too weird, I don't remember much after the dancing. I vaguely remember the ride home." I clear my throat, "Here, I vaguely remember the ride here."

He comes over and sits down next to me, "You were fine, I promise. You acted pretty normal really."

"I have a hard time believing that."

"Well, except for the end of the night when you were so tired and couldn't walk to the car… and I had to carry you." He gives a short chuckle.

We both stay silent for a couple moments. I try to remember him carrying me. Sadly, I can't.

"I'm sorry for putting you out, Walt."

He shakes his head. "It made for an interesting night, actually. That's the first time I've ever had to carry one of my drunk deputies out of a bar."

I scoff, "and hopefully it's the last."

I'm silent for a few beats, thinking about how he said his 'deputy' instead of 'friend,' or any other term. We weren't even on duty last night, but he still sees me as his deputy.

Is it normal for deputies and sheriffs to have platonic sleepovers?