December 25, 2010

~*~ Oscar ~*~

Oscar can't help humming along with the Christmas carols. The news that snow is falling - and sticking - delayed the caroling while people gawked, but he's not surprised that few people left. What started out as mainly the teenagers singing carols for the elderly expanded into a few adults on instruments to add to the vocals and Jazz Dixon's guitar.

His younger boy and niece even joined in, although Anthony seems disinclined to participate.

"They act like there's nothing wrong outside," Anthony grumbles when he asks. "They have classes and chores and even were gonna play soccer if the snow didn't start."

"What would you prefer? Them sit around scared all the time?" he asks. He meets Nichelle's eyes over the boy's head and she looks puzzled as well. They weren't exactly living amid a swarm of the dead like the prison was, but the little safe haven his brother managed did leave them exposed to the general reality of the world.

Robert didn't even hesitate to take the offer to come to Homestead. Aside from having a passing knowledge of Merle Dixon from working in the same field, his brother acknowledged a larger group is simply safer.

"We should all be out there taking the dead bastards down."

"Even the kids like your brother?"

"No, not Zaire. But half the kids here are plenty old enough to be out there."

"Even adding in the kids you mention, that's maybe four more teams above what goes out already. They kill everything they find. It's why you don't see dead on the fences here, because they're always clearing them out before they make it here."

He remembers enough of his military days to understand that map grid they use for clearing areas. There's a definite method to what they do.

"And what everyone does here is just as important. You wouldn't get very far killing walkers if you were naked and hungry with no safe place to sleep."

Oscar stiffens a little hearing Honey Dixon's voice behind him, but when he turns, she's smiling. Other than Merle, she's the Dixon he's most familiar with, since she works about half the time with the building crew he and Robert joined. She's also the person who trained Tiny and Axel to shoot, and both men came back a little in awe from their lessons.

She slides into the vacant seat across from Anthony, looking as solemn as he's ever seen her. "If that's your goal, working outside the walls, then my advice is that you need to step up your game in training. Not this half-ass effort I've seen you give so far.

You gotta qualify on weapons, self-defense, and PT. You gotta learn to drive if you don't already. And your parents have to give the okay. It's a lot of work and a lot of commitment and you're going to be probably six months before you go out on a team that's clearing dead."

Oscar honestly expects his son to take offense at getting told off by a girl not that much older. But he looks to his parents instead.

"Would you give permission?"

He suspects Nichelle wants to say no. He remembers she wasn't protected from the chaos of the world falling when he sees her nod reluctantly. He gives his permission as well.

The young woman studies Anthony for a minute. "Show me you're serious by showing up to run with the teen group every morning at six for a week, get a better report in on your chore shifts than 'sullen but works', and I'll take you to the range and start teaching you to shoot on Saturday. Deal?" She offers her hand.

Anthony takes it, still looking a little disbelieving.

"Good choice, dude."

"Miss Dixon?" Nichelle asks.

"Might be best to stick to Honey, or Hannah if you need the formality. Lotta Dixons here even with my sister getting married."

Nichelle smiles. "If it's not rude to ask, how old are you exactly? You do a lot of the weapons training."

"I turned eighteen back in July. I do most of the beginner firearms and archery training here because I was certifying for them before the world fell. I fill in for the PT sessions sometimes, but I leave the martial arts and close combat classes for others. I'm still learning there."

"And your brother?"

"I assume you mean Jazz?" At the nod, Honey shrugs. "Fifteen in August. He's certified to teach archery, but he doesn't usually have the time."

She follows Nichelle's line of sight and sighs when she sees her brother holding hands with the tiny blonde. "Gonna tell you the same thing I tell all the newbies about those two. They're both kids and she's the pushy one of the pair, not him. Keep an eye on it if you like, but just because he looks grown doesn't mean he is." She flashes an impish smile. "And they've been sweet on each other longer than our parents have been together."

"Old world reactions, but more because a boy of color with a white girl, that doesn't go well in Georgia much."

"Guess we've lucked out that those prejudices can be chucked out the window now, right? No one to criticize him for not being light or dark enough to fit in."

"What are you, anyway?" Anthony asks, and before Nichelle or Oscar can reprimand him, she laughs.

"Guess that depends. Mostly Georgia redneck." But then she has pity and fills in the blanks, because Oscar admits to being curious himself. "You familiar with people from the Pacific Islands, like Samoa or Guam?"

"Like The Rock. His mom's family from Samoa, right?"

"Yeah, exactly. That makes him half Pacific Islander. My birth mother's from Guam, and people there are Chamorro, also Pacific Islanders. I was actually supposed to spend part of the summer there with my grandparents this year, before I started college." She gets that complex expression most people get about the fate of relatives that can't be determined. "I'm hoping being an island with a good-sized military base, my family there survived this better than the mainland."

"At least there would be a limit to the herds there, right?" Oscar says, trying to reassure her. Fatherly instinct, he guesses. Guam's so damn far away, they'll probably never know.

"Yeah, I hope so. If they have the same percentage of immune folks, it'd be a safer place than most of us have." She shakes her head, making the jewelry in her braided hair clink, and he hears bells jingle. "Enough of sadness. It's Christmas. Come sing a carol or three, Anthony. Show me Zaire's not the only singer in the family."

Oscar's not a bit surprised when Anthony can't turn down the challenge and follows the young woman away. He exchanges an amused look with Nichelle.

"Want to play a game while they sing?" she asks.

It took the end of the world for them to bury the hatchet of their unhappy divorce, so that sounds like a real good plan.

~*~ Axel ~*~

Axel finishes the last of the dishes and hangs up the towel while the two teenagers assigned to help dash off to whatever evening plans they have. They were entertaining, neither seeming to bat an eye at working alongside him. None of the teens on the shifts he's worked have been anything other than respectful, though.

"You're looking mighty pensive for a man finished with dishes and free for the evening."

He turns and smiles at Katherine. It's the first time he's worked the supper shift and thus come into the secondary cooking manager's realm. His other kitchen shifts have been with Glynnis, and that lady is definitely a hoot to work for.

Katherine's younger than Glynnis by a decade or more, having reached that stage Axel's mama called 'handsome' rather than pretty.

"Just at loose ends, I suppose. Not a lot to Christmas for a man like me." It's why he volunteered to work the shift. His life's been regulated a long time, and with no real family to speak of, holidays don't mean much.

Even the carolers have cleared out, helping the elderly back to their building with a lot of happy noise.

"There's a movie tonight, same Saturday schedule as usual. Think it's Ice Age tonight."

Even with it being a kid's movie, he thinks he prefers it to going back to the RV just yet. He knows Tiny will stay, because the big guy loves funny animated movies, and Oscar's actually involved in a family game of Scrabble with most of the folks they retrieved from Ellijay. Only the kids are missing, and he's pretty sure he saw the teen boys leave when the bulk of the Dixon kids and cousins, or whatever the extra kids are, left.

"Or you could stop admiring Angela from afar and ask the woman to take a walk. I remember from my more impressionable days that women find snowy walks a bit romantic."

He startles, not realizing his interest is that obvious. He's exchanged words with the lady in question, several times, as he fetches supper. But remembering what happened to many of the ladies here, he's kept to his promise to himself not to cross any boundaries.

"I wouldn't want to assume..."

She interrupts him, placing a hand on his forearm. "You're already doing the right thing by being polite and calm around these ladies, Axel. But what happened to us at Grady doesn't define who we are, no more than finding you at the prison defines who you are. She's well enough to be looking and interested. Go get to know her."

He reminds himself that Katherine was in Grady too, so she's better equipped to know than he is, so he thanks her politely and considers exactly how to approach that doesn't sound like a dumb redneck pickup line. This isn't a barfly on Saturday night.

Deciding to bite the bullet and hoping what comes out of his mouth doesn't get his ass kicked, he makes his way to where Angela's helping set up the softer camp chairs used for movies.

She looks up, and her smile is the first indication that Katherine is not imagining things. He's been turned down enough to know when there's no interest at all.

"I know there's a movie tonight, but it was suggested to me that ladies find snowy walks romantic." Well, shit. Just tell the woman someone else put the idea in his head.

Shockingly, it works. "I've heard that before, but we don't get snow in Georgia often enough for me to have tried it." She bids the woman she's helping farewell and leads the way to the coat hooks. He even remembers he's supposed to offer to help her with her coat. Movies do have some basis for the manners they show on the unrealistic dates, he supposes, because she flashes him another smile, one that reaches her dark eyes. Once he's also clad for the weather, they step outside.

The moon hasn't risen yet, and it's dark enough that the exterior lighting is needed without the moon up yet. In a couple of hours, it'll be bright enough to walk without artificial light, just a few days past the full moon, but for now, there's an interesting combination of light and shadow and snow that makes everything look a bit like something out of a fairy tale book.

Since assisting with her coat seemed to work out, he opts for another of those movie ideas and offers her his arm. She takes it and lets him guide them on a rambling walk among the areas that do have lighting, boots crunching in the snow. Conversation is light and simple, and she shows more interest than upset when he's honest with her about his less than stellar past. By the time it's getting cold enough to consider going back indoors, she's even leaning against him a little.

He's thinking he should have believed those damned movies a long time ago.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane hangs his things up when he tromps back into the cabin, letting the warmth of the cabin seep into him for a moment before unlacing his boots to keep from tracking snow further in. It's not yet beyond most bedtimes, so he made the executive decision to have the watch put out the alert that tomorrow's runs are cancelled. Snow's still falling and he measured about three inches already on one of the railings outside.

Without any road crews to help clear the way, he sees no reason to risk vehicles and people on runs tomorrow, even if many of the smaller vehicles can handle the snow. He doesn't want to be learning how to pull loaded semis out of ditches after seeing enough of that as a cop when wreckers were summoned to retrieve trucks who slid off in the rain.

The side benefit is that he and Scout get another day with Anaya before they make a run, maybe more if the snow stays.

That thought leads him to check on the little girl. She's sound asleep, curled up with her back to the wall and the comforter kicked to the floor. She's got two of the four sock monkeys Carol gave her tucked under one arm, and the smallest - meant to represent the unborn baby - is sitting on one of the recessed shelves in the bunk, so he looks for an escapee and finds the little camo clad monkey tangled in the comforter. He figures the light blankets aren't enough for the night, even though they've got decent heating, so he picks it back up and tucks it around her. She shows the hyper-awareness so many of them have now, but upon recognizing him, she lets herself be soothed back to sleep after taking the offered Marine sock monkey and tucking it back with the two dressed as a cop and a wild-haired little girl.

Her room is a little more populated now, thanks to the attic box Honey gathered up and the amazing number of gifts that appeared as if by magic despite less than an hour's warning the family expanded. The Christmas gifts were handled with surprising care as she put them away, even making him fetch a hammer to hang the chibi art drawing from Sophia. Convincing her the necklace was safer in the small jewelry box than around her neck while sleeping was almost an impossible task until Scout showed her the name on the bottom of the box where she practiced her calligraphy to make the little box for her younger sister. Anaya handled the attic kept items with a serious sort of reverence, seeming happier with the well-loved items from various Dixon childhoods than the couple of newer things his sister-in-law tucked in there.

The feeling that settles in his chest as how easily she drifted back off with his hand rubbing her back is almost painful it's so strong. He remembers the first time he felt like this, when Carl clung to him in the days after they fled home for the reputed safety of Atlanta. Despite the restored relationships and the fact that he spends as much time with Carl as either of his official and unofficial fathers, he still feels an echo of the painful days when he wasn't allowed access to the boy he loves as his own. He hopes it's something he never experiences with Anaya.

"It's hard to leave her be, isn't it?" Scout says softly from the doorway.

He smiles at his wife and eases off the bunk to join her. They leave the door open and their own ajar.

She gives him a long, lingering kiss before padding back to bed. It's going to take a little adjustment, seeing her in pajamas, but considering her idea of pajamas involves stealing one of his old T-shirts and a pair of Spiderman boxer shorts he got as a joke Christmas gift, he thinks he can manage. He's glad he never tossed gifts of pajama pants in the past and blesses Lori's inability to think outside the box for his previous Christmas presents as he sheds his clothes and pulls on a pair of the softest flannel bottoms he's ever worn. He'll miss sleeping skin-to-skin with Scout, but having Anaya now is more important than that little habit.

There's a reminder of the new parenthood on his bedside table, next to the frame that holds the ultrasound pictures. Anaya participated in the school projects to make presents for parents or loved ones, and it seems that she held out hope it would be them specifically that she went to live with. There's no mistaking that the memory book she gave him was intended for him, with the police themed stickers pressed on the inside front cover and the gold lettering on blue canvas cover. The outside has an open space that's supposed to have their hand prints, hers superimposed over his, but the lettering already stenciled on indicates he doesn't think he'll be 'Shane' very long with the girl.

He reaches for the book and the gel pen that came with it, remembering he has 'homework' tonight.

The question she's listed are easy ones, a child's way of getting to know a new family member: birthdate, favorite food, hobbies. He answers them easily, remembering little questionnaires like this that Carl did over the years. He likes the idea of the bound book that can be an ongoing 'conversation' much better though.

Scout leans over to read his answers and laughs. "That really your favorite movie or the PG version for Anaya?"

He pretends to be offended, but can't keep it up and laughs. "Turner and Hooch is one of my favorites. Sure not going to watch The Departed with her for a few years."

"What are you going to ask her for your turn?"

He flips the page to a blank one and considers. "Even the simple questions could trigger something, couldn't they?"

She nods. "The weirdest shit set me off for years after what happened to me. I remember having a meltdown when I caught Home Alone on TV once, and that was two years after she was gone. Best bet is to just ask what you would ask if she were any other kid. Then we deal with things as they come."

He ends up mirroring her questions for the most part, especially since those are things they want to know, but adds an extra he remembers from a silly conversation with Carl when the kid was younger. He sets the book aside to return to Anaya in the morning and slides down in bed to half-snooze while Scout finishes off a chapter in the book she's reading.

Lying in bed, they kiss, little teasing brushes of skin not intended to go anywhere but sharing space and affection together. He runs his fingers across her visible scars, thinking of how different her last Christmas would have been. He wonders if she even healed enough for her family to hold her by then. Some of the things Daryl told him, one night when they both drank a little more than they should after Grady, those first six weeks were the stuff of nightmares.

"Looking at her in there, I think I really understand how crazy your daddy was back in the quarry now," he ventures. "We haven't had her a full day and I'd lose my damn mind if she disappeared for even a few hours, and he had five of you missing for months."

"Just consider it an irony that she's less likely to give us a scare than the average kid. I don't see her being willing to wander off even on property for a while."

He thinks of how she wanted them both in there for her bedtime story. Scout stretched out on the bunk next to her, reading the first book out of a series that came in the box Honey gave them. Shane just settled in at their feet, smiling as Anaya wriggled her bare feet against his hip and listened to a tale about a warrior mouse and a squirrel maid with contentment. She fell asleep after two chapters, but they stayed to guard her sleep a while.

"Maybe tomorrow we can make snowmen. Keeps going like it is, may have enough for serious snowmen in the morning."

"Boys versus girls snowball fight."

"Hey, that better include more than just the three of us, because otherwise that sounds like ganging up on me."

It earns him a laughing kiss. "I figured on rounding up as many people who want to get crazy. That whole area behind the house, up to the pastures? Lots of fun to be had there. The year I graduated high school, we nearly ended up with frostbite in our snowball war."

He starts to answer, ends up in a yawn that cramps his damn jaw, and a laughing wife who at least kisses the offending cramped muscle once it eases. He rolls to his side, letting her tuck in behind him like she prefers, and falls asleep to her fingers sliding absently through his curls.

~*~ TC ~*~

Tara now has an immense level of sympathy for every couple who ever resorted to conception not of the hot and sweaty variety. She suspects the clinical nature is easier for Cricket, who set it in her mind years ago how it would happen for her. Her partner's lying in bed, actually reading a book, her hips canted upward on the pillows underneath her the only sign it's not just any other night for them. The part that is really ironic is that a cervical cap normally used to prevent conception is now being used as extra insurance to encourage conception.

"Chrissy? Is there anything else you need?"

The hesitance in her voice makes Chris look up and she smiles reassuringly as she marks her place and puts the book aside. "C'mere."

Once Tara joins her in the bed, Chris nuzzles at her jawline, kissing just the right spot to make Tara's body perk up with interest. Her hesitation must be obvious though, because Chris pulls back.

"What's wrong?"

"I just didn't want to upset any chances. Aren't you supposed to lie still for a while?" She tries to remember the steps Chris went over, back when she first started charting, and wishes she asked for a refresher other than the basics tonight. Her mind's blanking now, and the main thing that comes to mind is that they have two weeks of not knowing if this is going to be successful.

"Even the medical clinics will advise that orgasms aid in conception, although that's sure as hell not something I'd want to pull off in a medical setting. Can't imagine how guys manage what they have to do."

"Probably not the weirdest place a guy's ever tossed one off, considering some of the arrests for public indecency I know about. Or tonight." Tara glances toward their bathroom and grimaces.

Chris laughs. "I imagine it was equally as weird for him. And we get to repeat the experience in two nights," she teases. "So, perhaps you should up our chances that maybe we do this fewer times rather than many?"

Trusting that Chris is well-educated in the process, she tosses caution to the wind and claims Chris' lips for a kiss with serious intent and decides to take the orgasms help conception as a challenge.

~*~ Big Tiny ~*~

Big Tiny spends the majority of the evening around other people, because it's Christmas and he misses his mama and moms so much it hurts to damn breathe. The people here are smart about so many residents having lost people though, because until bedtime, there's no reason to be alone.

It's sure as hell a better Christmas than he had last year, only seeing his mothers for about three hours because it got crowded and they left early at the guards' request. Being on the other side of the state made in-person visits rare, but his mothers wanted him in the program there so he never applied for a closer unit when his time inside allowed. The video visits were usually too unreliable, so they usually managed phone calls. He's glad that last phone call happened when it did, even if he only got to talk to one mother because the other was hospitalized.

Oscar's with his family, and while he knows he's welcome even by the ones new to Oscar, it's just not the same. And Axel left earlier with the pretty little brunette from the supper crew and didn't come back after. Lady was smiling when they left, so he guesses the redneck's got a new lady friend.

Nice part about this place is that no one cares if he spends as much time among the animals as he does among people, so instead of going home when folks start to retire for the night, he's in the warm barn, talking softly to the horses and the other mama animals, brushing coats and manes as he goes. The animals enjoy the attention, and he's collected a small pack of the various dogs who usually slip into the barn via a doggy door at night to sleep if they aren't patrolling on whatever instinct or training makes them know their jobs here.

He hums some of the Christmas carols softly when he makes it to Moonshine's stall. The black horse nudges at him happily. The Dixon kids tell him she's been here with them a long time, and he thinks they named her wrong. Moonshine seems like she should be mischievous and energetic. Instead, she's one of the sweetest animals he's ever met, with a patient air to her that makes him feel at peace just looking at her. The feeling reminds him a bit of when he was a kid and used to sit in church between his mothers.

She's a smart one too, because she seems to know he isn't feeling that peace tonight. She hooks her big head on his shoulder, leaning against him just as if she's a person giving him a hug. So, he wraps his arms around her and just leans into her strength she's offering him to supplement where his own is failing him tonight.

~*~ GR ~*~

"You know, out of all my guesses to where your dad was last night, Lenore wasn't on the list. Feel kinda stupid about it though, because it's kind of a perfect fit if you think about it," Glenn tells Maggie.

"I imagine they'll never have a lack of things to talk about. Beth couldn't make up her mind to be happy because she likes Lenore or weirded out because Lenore more or less raised Gage." Maggie's stretched out beside him, yawning. Tomorrow's supply runs are cancelled, while they weren't scheduled for a run anyway. Tomorrow's their Homestead workday, and Maggie and Tara drew the breakfast shift. The snow won't curtail his and Tim's laundry duty either. Apparently, freeze drying clothes is a good thing. The first time he saw one of the helper teens and another teen passing by having 'sword fights' with frozen socks made him laugh his ass off.

"I guess not. And she'll get over being weirded out if she really likes Gage." He traces a line down her arm, loving the contrast between her pale skin and his darker complexion as he always does. "You ever worry we spend too much time together, being on the same team?"

It's something he's curious about, since with the exception of the gay couple from the Guardsmen, all the other couples where both are supply runners serve on separate teams. When the two leaders of the Grady cops finally moved in together, Gil Licari swapped teams with one of the other Grady cops, moving from Amanda Shepherd's leadership to Karen's. Maybe it's a cop thing, because he's never been sure if Scout and Shane lead different teams to share out their experience or for some outdated reason cops use of not partnering with a significant other.

"Not really. I might, if we didn't spend any time apart at all, but considering I keep getting borrowed to the vet staff at least once a week, we're really only doing three days of runs together anyway. Might end up being less depending on how easy all those lambs come into the world next month."

That is true. With Patricia unable to help with some of the heavier veterinary tasks, Maggie does get conscripted when Hershel needs an extra set of hands beyond his two apprentices.

"I guess I just don't want us to get bored with each other." Because despite their engagement and attempts at parenthood, he's been with Maggie less than six months, and six months always seemed to be the turning point where his previous girlfriends decided he wasn't interesting enough.

She raises up to an elbow, more alert than he expected this late at night. "Glenn? That's just not possible. Figuring out how your mind spins things outside the box is going to take me at least twenty years to sort out. It's addictive, too."

He doesn't think anyone's ever considered him addictive, especially in relation to how his mind works. "God, I love you, Maggie."

"I love you, too. Quit worrying about whatever your old life taught you to expect and put that tricky brain of yours to better use." As if he might miss the implication, she snags his hand and slides it under her shirt.

Never say he can't take a hint.

~*~ EP ~*~

Honey's fallen asleep using him as a pillow again, and Eugene is starting to wish his cowardice didn't win out tonight over following Abraham's advice. He can wake her to stumble off home, but despite the fact that the snow means she's probably not going to have a full work shift tomorrow, he doesn't like to interrupt her sleep.

It gives him time to think, ignoring the background noise of the television, because this isn't the first night this week she's slept in his bed. It's all been very innocent, falling asleep on television nights here and there since Terminus, usually on a night where her day's work pushed her especially hard. The nights she's spent here mean he's become an expert at platonic bedsharing too, because while he's pretty sure she'll forgive any morning 'mishaps' on waking up, it just wasn't something he wanted to experience with her. He's even collected a comforter he deems hers, because it's only on the bed when she falls asleep atop the blankets he ends up sleeping under.

But now Abraham's words make him face the reason he sees her as different than other women he's known.

Is the fact that she's spending less time with her paramours a sign?

For all of his lusting after Rosita, he knew the woman would never consider a man like him when she had someone like Abraham along. He's overweight, plain of feature, and well aware that ninety percent of his sexual encounters were because a woman simply didn't want to spend a night alone while in between relationships with men she felt were more masculine or desirable.

He's had more tactile contact since arriving at Homestead than he had in the last two years, and that's if he includes the fact that Rosita really is his friend and open to touch and hug him.

It's a moot point for tonight, he supposes, since she's asleep. He eases out from under her and positions the pillow carefully under her head. It takes him longer to carefully unbraid her hair, knowing she won't want the pieces she calls 'braid bling' left in to sleep. One by one, he gets all the braid rings, with their little Christmasy charms, into a tea mug so none of them get lost. Her weapons are already on the counter by the sink with the thigh holster she prefers, and her boots always come off about five seconds after she's inside.

Once he slips the comforter over her that's taken up residence on his recliner these days, he changes for bed and notices for the first time that he's actually got to cinch up the pajama pants he was given when he first got here.

Huh. She kept her promise to work with him without an audience, even though he knows she has many demands on her time. He still can't run a mile without stopping, but her happy chatter and ability to listen to him expound on any topic means the half-an-hour he manages now as a half walk, half jog is passed quickly. It's worth stumbling along before supper every other night, and he's putting in a good effort on the two nights of PT. She made him promise not to go to the infirmary to weigh himself for at least a month, because as she intones, converting fat to muscle means he won't actually lose much weight at first.

It makes him take his belt off the towel rack and try it back on over the pajama pants, wondering just how distracted he's been for the last two weeks that he's managed to get his belt cinched two holes tighter and not realized it.

He puts the belt back and reminds himself to check again in the morning, with jeans on, before he gets his hopes up.

He switches off the television on his way to bed, which sends the apartment into near darkness lit only by the dim night light in the bathroom. Once in bed, under the side of blankets left to him, he listens to her soft breathing at his back and lets himself daydream of not needing Abraham's offer of a drink-to-forget night.

~*~ AF ~*~

"You don't have to go wandering off in the snow, you know."

Abraham pauses at her words, feeling the soft texture of the rug by her bed under his feet. Being invited to her place for the night was surprising enough. He didn't want to assume it was an all-night invitation.

"You sure about that?" he asks, looking back to where she's relaxed on the bed, hair spilling across the pillow and sheet wantonly only to her hips. His body likes the idea of staying just fine.

"Pretty sure I'm happy for a repeat in the morning, since I don't have to be up to head out and freeze my ass off for the day with Shane canceling the runs."

It's his day off anyway, so he nods. "Gotta hit the head though."

She shrugs and rolls to her belly, arms around her pillow as if she's going to sleep now that him going or staying is settled. That damn sheet is still just enticingly only to her waist.

He takes a leak, washing his hands, and looking for a cloth to dampen to clean a bit of the sweat off his skin. Snagging two off the little wire rack mounted on the wall reveals a few odds and ends of personal care items, including one he really should have conversed with her about at least an hour ago. The sight of the familiar little dial pack of birth control at least tells him he probably didn't screw that up for her, in thinking with his dick and not his brain. It's a damned miracle Rosita was one of those plan-ahead women with an IUD, because he certainly never thought about the risk they took, fucking like rabbits across four states.

Once he's run a wet wash cloth across his skin, he dampens the other and pads back to the bed.

The courtesy of running it across her skin gets him a considering look and a sleepy promise of making the unexpected attention worth his while in the morning.

He just laughs and chucks the cloth to land on the edge of her hamper and tucks himself into bed next to her. There's no space between them in the full-sized bed, but he finds he doesn't really mind.

Rosita being in love with him was a problem because he liked her enough to not lead her on. But he sure as hell missed a warm woman next to him at night as he falls asleep.