I'm not sure I'm happy with this one. But depression as kicked my arse this past year so I've battle through the writers block to try and get it finished.
"You really want to wake Britta up?"
He's been stroking his hands further and further up her thighs as she curls up against him in the bed, their agreement that her apartment is purely for sleep creeping closer to abandonment. He knows her ticklish spots and he thankfully avoids them, they both know the hell Britta will unleash on them if she hears Annie squealing in the night, but she can tell by the look on his face that his intentions aren't exactly innocent.
"I do not want that…" he trails off, raises an eyebrow, and hooks his thumb through the strap of her pyjama top, "But I do want this."
She tips her head back as his trails kisses down her neck, tightens her grip on his arms and sighs.
"Jeff.."
"Annie."
He grins up at her conspiratorily and she gives him a playful slap on the shoulder.
"I'm serious. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to get Britta to agree to you staying here? I made her a promise that she'd never have to hear us."
It hadn't been so much a promise as her begging Britta not to act unreasonable whenever Jeff knocked on the door. Or not to roll her eyes whenever she mentioned his name. Their pact was tenuous, and she's not looking forward to Britta's judgemental glare being trained on her in the morning.
"Okay," Jeff says finally, pulling the blanket up and over them both and cocooning them in fabric, "Then I just want to sleep here with you."