A/N Here y'all go. Nice chappy. Who agrees with me that someone should tell Miguel that he is not Tom Waits and should not try to sing like him?
He woke up to the sound of a scream. He all but sprang from the bed and opened the connecting door between the rooms. He found her sitting upright in bed, gulping down a glass of water. "You OK?" He asked, sitting down next to her on the corner of the bed.
"Yeah. Just a nightmare." She said, refilling her glass and gulping down another one.
"That all?" He asked, and she nodded. He started to get up, but she reached out.
"Don't go." She said, and he fought hard not to show his glee.
"That bad?" He asked,stretching out on top of the sheets.
"I dreamt that Slokum pushed me off of a cliff and Woody was there waiting at the bottom, but at the last minute he stepped back and let me fall. She leaned against him, using hi as a pillow. He knew he was only being her comforter and nothing else. He was the only there to be the one to she clung to when she had nowhere else to turn.
They laid like that for a long time, not saying anything, just listening to the rhythmic rise and fall of each other's chests. "I don't want to throw it all away, that's not why I came here, I just couldn't stand it anymore, Woody, and Slokum." He wrapped the blanket around her, lifting his hips just enough to untuck it from underneath him.
"You don't have to." He told her, propping his head up on his arm. "Slokum will be gone soon enough and if Woody doesn't think you love him than you don't need to put up with him, he doesn't deserve to be loved by you." She smiled at him, offering him some of the blanket.
He paused for a second. This was uncharted territory for him, he was supposed to be there to be the comforting presence, her best friend that ran halfway across the country after her to tell her not to waste what she had, and here he was now, lying in the same bed as her, being her pillow, and being offered the chance to stay there.
After a long moment's deliberation, he slid beneath the covers as well, after all, she was the one that had offered. He didn't want to make things more awkward than they already were, but this was something that she had done, giving him at least a vague flicker of hope.
"You need someone who'll love you as you are, warts and all, and know that you love them." He held her close, enjoying the warmth of her head against his chest.
"Yeah, and you can help me find that guy. They only exist in the pages of bodice rippers. You been stealing from my bookshelf?" She teased. He wanted to tell her that there was one laying right there next to her, that he was there for her no matter what.
Instead he just held her close, shifting on the pillows to get more comfortable. "They exist." He said rather nonchalantly. He stifled a yawn and looked at the clock. It was two AM there, it would be three in the morning back in Boston, and he had only gotten about four hours of sleep. He was quite enjoying the feel of her, but he would enjoy more if he was fully awake and if he wasn't trying to avoid his feelings for her.
"And how would you know?" She asked, poking him in the ribs.
"Just something that I know. You're forgetting that I know everything." He said with a grin that was easily matched by her own, and the lapsed back into silence before falling into a gentle slumber.