Tumblr ask meme prompt: "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" (from the very excellent veilsofgold)

Of all the things Ichabod Crane expected to find upon his return home from the Archives at 3 a.m. (he fell asleep face-down in a book), Miss Mills in his bed was not one of them.

It wouldn't have even made the list.

He stands, frozen in place, in the doorway of his little room at the back of the house she is kind enough to share with him, afraid to move. Do I wake her? Should I sleep on the couch? Going up to her room and sleeping in her bed doesn't even enter his mind. He only did that while she was away in the Catacombs, and though she was very understanding when he confessed, he promised himself he would not cross that line again.

And yet.

Here she is, like a tiny angel in a purple head scarf, somehow taking up his entire bed.

He steps closer on silent stockinged feet, carefully sets his coat on the chair, and leans over her.

Oh. Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear.

She is at least topless. He can't see anything indiscreet, but there are no straps from a tank top or… anything that would indicate she has on any clothes. At least on her top half.

He's seen her before bed, usually wearing an old t-shirt and some shorts (or sometimes not, if the shirt is long enough. He tries not to think about that too much because it makes him sweaty), but he doesn't truly know what she wears to sleep.

Surely she wouldn't be so impractical to sleep nude… what if there is an emergency in the middle of the night? What if a demon manages to find this house and decides to attack while we slumber? Would she battle him wearing nothing but her guns?

That is precisely what she would do. His eyes widen at that particular mental image, and he feels beads of sweat start to form. He files that thought away with the others, other thoughts that he only unlocks in the dead of night – like now – but when he is alone. Very much alone.

Thoughts like Abbie doing yoga in the cabin. And the time he had to boost her up to reach that lantern and her glorious, round backside was very nearly pressed against his face. And the time he regained consciousness from the scorpion venom with his head cradled in her bosom.

The list gets longer each day.

He exhales heavily, and steps back, bumping into a bookshelf. He curses softly as a book topples to the floor with a loud thud.

He watches as she stirs awake. When she sits up, he wheels around, facing away.

"Crane?" she asks, confused. "What are you doing in my room?"

"I do beg your pardon, Lieutenant, but it is you who are in my room," he stammers. He knows his face must be as red as General Howe's military coat.

"Oh," Abbie replies, waking up more. "Oh, damn." There is a rustle of blankets, and she says, "You can turn around."

"Why… why are you… apparently naked… in my bed?" Crane asks, slowly turning around. She has the blankets tucked around her, covering her.

She stares up at him with a look that indicates that he has just asked a ridiculous question. "Well, considering I just accused you of being in my room, do you really think I know?" she retorts.

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Forgive me. I was… not thinking clearly," he says. He knows he wasn't thinking clearly because whatever blood that hasn't flooded to his face has taken up residence in his groin just at the thought of her bare body in his bed.

"I think I was sleepwalking," she quietly says. "Shit. I haven't done that in years…"

"Perhaps you should consider wearing pajamas if somnambulation is going to be an issue," he recommends.

She looks up and fixes him in a steely gaze. "I was dressed when I went to bed," she says. "And sit down, I'm getting a stiff neck looking up this far at you."

He looks around a minute, then gingerly perches on the edge of the bed. "So… you… disrobed, walked down here, and climbed into my bed," he ponders. "I do not see any sign of your garments in here and did not see any in the house," he explains.

She puts her head in her hands, then flops back, lying back down. "Ugh. If it's not one thing, it's another. First it's a… rune thing making me think I'm crazy, now it's the return of sleepwalking."

"How did you make it stop the first time?" Crane asks. He has a feeling he knows when she experienced her first bout: after her childhood ordeal in the forest with Jenny.

"Jenny slept with me," Abbie answers, carefully sitting up again. "If I had someone there, I wouldn't wander. I'd sleep better, too." She looks down when she says this.

"Well then," he declares with more confidence than he feels. "I shall simply go retrieve your sleeping garments, give you a moment to dress, and…" he trails off, not able to actually speak the words but hoping she understands.

She looks up at him. Then she presses her lips together and closes her eyes. "Or you could just strip down and join me," she quickly says before she loses her nerve.

He leaps to his feet. "Oh… I… I don't think that would be a—"

"Forget it then," she cuts him off. "Just turn around and I'll go back—"

"Abbie."

She stops. And waits.

"Do not misunderstand," he says, sitting back down. "My hesitance only comes from the knowledge that if I followed your recommendation," he leans closer to her, "neither of us would be getting any sleep for the rest of this night." His voice has gone very dark and low, and his expression is positively feral.

She leans towards him, allowing the blankets to slip down. Her lips are a hair's breadth away from his when she asks, "What makes you think that wasn't what I had in mind?"