The ding of her phone goes off, and her hand shoots out from underneath her pillow, waking Laurel from an exhausted sleep, her mind wandering, blindly reaching for the offending object before making contact.
Her eyes squint at the screen, signaling a text from Annalise.
A silent groan escapes her, as she fumbles to see. A flood of light from the lamp illuminates her surroundings, as well as shedding light on the night's previous events that led her into bed at such an early hour.
Blue sheets cling to her form, as she turns, throwing out her arm, expecting to hit Wes' sleeping chest, instead it flops to the mattress, and a confused look paints her face.
He left.
That's the thought that comes screaming through her head, a text from Annalise only signaling her to something terrible having happened. Their conversation about speaking to the police before she'd kissed him, ringing in her ears.
"Wes?" She calls out, met with silence.
Quickly getting out of bed, the dried sweat creating an odd sensation, sending goosebumps to cover her exposed body, as she rummages to find a shirt to wear, throwing on the first thing she finds, an old cut up t-shirt.
Her bare feet hit the hardwood as she wanders through her apartment, hoping that he'd just gotten up to get a drink, and hadn't left because he regretted what had happened or worse, a guilty conscious had led him to the police earlier than expected.
She's relieved when she finds the colors of the tv bouncing on the parlor doors of her living room, the white walls displaying a modicum of hope that this night wasn't completely unsalvageable.
"Wes, are you here?" She asks in a flurry, only to find him curled up on her floor, a sigh of relief escaping her, until his shell-shocked look meets her's.
"Look," he directs to the news, and she stands by him, the heat from his chest casting itself on her leg.
Her mouth moves open to speak, and then quickly shuts upon hearing that they were off the hook, that Wes wasn't a suspect.
Crouching down by him, she plants herself next to him, her hand coming to balance on his arm, her fingertips tracing the lines of his veins, as they stare at the tv ahead.
"I…I can't believe this," he says with a shake of his head and eyes wide with disbelief.
Her head comes to rest on his shoulder, looking at him with gentle, relieved eyes, heavy with sleep, but eager to take in the sight before her.
She nods against him, her hair getting caught between their skin.
"This is good," she says in a quiet whisper, glancing every so often at the tv, as if the news would suddenly report something different, taking this misdirect back.
"Hmm," he hums, not even able to form actual words to what's happening. He looks down at his hands, before landing on her, a warm, nervous smile staring back at her.
"You kissed me," he says, cocking his head to see her reaction.
She ducks her head a bit, her lips coming to rest on his bicep, before moving to speak.
"I think we did a bit more than that," she softly laughs.
She swears she can feel the heat of a blush coming off of him, a nervous energy, almost afraid that he'll say something that convinces her to take back what had happened, like that was possible at this point.
"You know what I mean," he says, as if still in disbelief about the whole thing, compounded with the weight that had just been taken off his shoulders involving the Mahoney case, it had been a night of revelations, and this one seemed to be taking longer for him to grasp than most.
"Yes, we did," she humors him with a sly grin.
"Should we…?" He stumbles over his words, delicately moving his fingers to intwine with her own still resting on his arm. "I mean…there's a discussion we could have…if you wanted…to…you know, have one," he says, his words gentle, and smooth, despite the fumbling to get out his point.
She can't help but continue grinning at him, even more convinced that she'd chosen wisely, complications be damned, because she was in love with the man sitting next to her.
"Because I mean—" He starts again, only to be cut off, by Laurel's lips connecting with his own, his hand moving to her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin, as she gets lost in the same heat from before.
Pulling away, her lips tuck in, a satisfied grin appearing on her face, his brown eyes flickering a spark.
"Wes," she says, standing so he's looking up at her, her impossibly bare legs leading to her tosseled hair, and bruised lips. "I plan on doing this with you for the foreseeable future," she says, a pang in her chest at the sheepish look he's throwing at her right now. "End of discussion," she says, holding out her hand to help him up.
He reaches up, gripping her hand, and even as he stands, towering over her, causing her head to tilt back, she refuses to let go of his hand, as he moves in for another kiss, pausing just before his lips touch her's. "End of discussion," his words whisper across her lips, and tickle her into a smile, as she leads him back to her bedroom.