The muscles in her back run completely parallel from her shoulder blades to her hips—or, at least, that's how they look to him, while she sleeps. In his bed.
A place he more recently thought she would never end up.
And he's still in disbelief, still half-convinced this is all a dream as he reaches over and traces the dip in her back.
Even in unconsciousness, she leans into his touch, arches her back and shifts those perfectly parallel lines until they curve inward, almost like back-to-back parentheses.
He hesitates, almost pulls away so that she can fall back asleep and he can watch her a little longer. But the desire to touch her wins out and his hand trails up, towards her neck.
He softly brushes her hair away, runs a tender thumb over her neck.
She stiffens, then relaxes. She exhales quietly out of her nose and turns her head in his direction.
Her eyes aren't open yet, but she still murmurs a small "hi."
He chuckles softly to himself, and she peeks out of one eye. "Hi," he says.
His hand washes over her cheek, and her eyes close again as she leans into him. Her nose brushes his thumb, and she smiles.
"It's early," she whispers.
He sighs, tucks some hair behind the curve of her ear without moving his palm. "I know."
"Can't sleep?"
He grins. "Don't want to."
She doesn't answer right away, shifting onto her side and scooting over in his direction. Her arm snakes around his torso, and her first finger traces patterns into his shoulder.
"Why not?" she asks after an eternity.
"Because," he pauses, searching for the right words. "I don't want to wake up and find you gone."
She lifts her head, lays her cheek on his chest—just above his heart. No doubt she can hear how fast it is as he looks at her.
"Do I need to pinch you?" she teases. "To make sure you're not dreaming?"
"Probably wouldn't hurt," he plays.
"She lifts a hand and pinches his stomach, earning her a soft "ow!"
"No dream," she declares.
"That wasn't a challenge, you know," he says, rubbing the pink mark on his abdomen.
"Don't be a baby," she murmurs tiredly. "Get some sleep."
There's a beat of silence before he asks, "Will you still be here when I wake up?"
She nods into him, tightening her hold.
"Promise," she whispers, and then she's asleep once again.
When he wakes, the bed is cold next to him. It takes him several seconds to remember, but he does and pulls the blanket away to find the space empty beside him.
Could he really have dreamed it all?
He's breathing a sigh of relief, though, as he hears bare footsteps in the hall beyond his door and she slips inside, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts.
"Hey," she whispers when she notices he's awake. "I didn't mean to wake you, but I had to pee."
"You didn't," he says passively, just now hearing the rush of water through the old pipes hidden within the walls.
She sits herself down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed and facing him.
"When do you have to go get your father?" she asks quietly, lacing her fingers around the curve of one knee.
"I don't know," he sighs. "Not for a few more hours, at least."
She nods complacently, leaning forward and folding herself back into the bed, and his arms.
"Do you have time for a breakfast run with me?" She speaks slowly, as if he might say no.
But when she looks up at him with that beautiful, shy smile, his answer is anything but.
"Maybe," he teases. "What did you have in mind?"
Her smiles changes, playful and knowing, now. "I think I know a place."
"Good," he whispers, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her further into the bed. "'Cause I am not cooking."
"Whatever," she murmurs, and kisses him.
This time, he thinks.
A/N: This is a sequel ficlet to 'Fixing It' (AKA Chapter 16 of this series) which also makes it a 6-B morning-after fic. Sorry I haven't posted anything in a while, school and stuff are kicking my butt, I was cast in the school play, and my muse is a little flighty as of late. I'm hoping to write more soon, but I have no idea how the next few weeks—or months—are going to play out. Reviews help!