Snippets revolving around the theme of sleep. Each section takes place in different parts of Eric and Clara's early years of marriage. Cause I really just wanted an excuse to write cuddling.

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In the weeks leading up to her wedding to Eric, Clara hadn't thought much of the prospect of sharing a bed with someone. She had never done so before, but she was not terribly concerned by the idea. After all, being made for the king and queen, the bed certainly would not be lacking in size.

It was after they were married that she realized if she had worried about it, she would have had some right to do so.

Because it turned out that Eric liked to be close when they slept. Exceptionally close. It did not matter that their mattress was large enough for at least four people to lay side-by-side, nor did it matter if they fell asleep with space between them. Somehow Eric always rolled close to her in his sleep, pressing against her in a manner that was almost suffocating, with his arm often draping over her.

At first, Clara found it endearing. But after the novelty of Eric's unconsciously done habit wore off, she sometime would try to wiggle away from him, if only to escape the heat of their bodies, and to breathe more freely. Yet that did not last long, for eventually he would shift closer to her once again.

"Eric…" she whispered one night, twisting her head around to look at him. She grimaced at the feeling of her hair pulling away from her neck, which was sticky with sweat due to the summer night's heat. She tugged at his arm slung over her torso, hoping to escape and roll onto the cooler side of the mattress. "Eric…darling…"

"Mm…?" he mumbled, half-asleep.

Despite her exasperation, Clara could not help a smile. She found that she couldn't bring herself to try and pull away, not with how content he looked. "Oh, never mind," she sighed, kissing his forehead.

/

As Eric became busier in the months following their wedding, there were multiple times when Clara went to bed on her own. Eric continued to work into the night, and Clara would try to wait for him, but often fell asleep doing so. She also began to notice how less frequently he would roll close to her in his sleep. Had Eric not been so consumed by work, she might have been somewhat grateful for the change. But she worried that this new pattern was due to how overly tired he was, with his body lapsing from his usual habits because of exhaustion.

Unlike Eric, Clara was a light sleeper, so when he did finally come to bed on those late nights, she was usually rocked back into awareness by the dipping of the mattress beneath his weight. She didn't mind though, preferring to greet him if she was awake.

"What time is it?" she mumbled.

"Don't know," he said wearily. "I stopped checking after midnight." He settled facedown into the bed with a tired groan.

Clara frowned. Christmas was coming soon, and the castle was planning on celebrating the holiday for the first time. She had hoped that things would have calmed down for Eric by now. "You shouldn't be working so many long nights," she said in concern. She rubbed her hand over his back, relieved as his muscles relaxed beneath her touch.

Eric made a sound into his pillow that Clara wasn't sure was a noise of agreement or argument.

Sympathy flickered over her face as she ran her fingers up his spine. "I'll cancel my plans tomorrow and spend the day helping you instead."

"I can't let you do that."

"How fortunate for you that you have no say in the matter." Clara smiled, though the expression looked rather dismal, tinted by worry for him. She kneaded the heel of her palm against a knot in Eric's shoulder, and he groaned in relief at the feeling. "I've decided."

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Clara kissed Eric's temple. "Just sleep, love."

Eric sighed tiredly. With Clara's hand working at the soreness of his back, he soon fell asleep. Satisfied at seeing the tension ebb from his body, she stayed curled up beside him until morning.

/

The bed felt exceptionally empty tonight.

Clara rolled over, staring at the tangled blankets strewn over the mattress. She pressed her lips together, torn between the anger still stewing in her chest and the undeniable ache for his presence as she lay there.

The fight seemed ridiculous now. Well, perhaps the reasoning behind the disagreement wasn't petty, but it was unfortunate that it had grown into such a heated quarrel.

She knew world traveling was difficult because of the time shifts. She and Eric had managed to control the extent of them with the scepter, lessening the loss of time down to a few days, or about a week at the most. Which was a miracle in itself. Yet it still was an irritating side effect of traveling, and one that Eric wasn't currently willing to sacrifice time for.

They were simply too busy right now to lose a week to travel. Clara knew this, but she wanted to talk to Eric about visiting her grandfather and brother in the near future anyway. When she brought it up, Eric's response had been rather sharp. Clara knew now, after contemplating on the argument in the lonely aftermath, that he hadn't meant it to be – it had simply been a result of the long day they both had had. She had seen the instant regret in his eyes as the words tumbled from his mouth, but she had been too annoyed by his tone to acknowledge it.

Her reply hadn't been very civil either, and a fight quickly exploded from there. Eric finally left the room and, hours later, still hadn't returned.

She sighed and turned onto her back to stare at the bedroom ceiling. She couldn't go to sleep, not with the things they had said to each other rolling about her mind. She pushed back the sheets and slid out of the bed, welcoming the coolness of the floor as she stood on it. Distracted, she didn't bother pulling a robe over her nightgown as she lit a candle and wandered into the corridor outside her and Eric's rooms.

Eventually she came to the library doors. She hoped she was right about her guess as to where he was. She reached for the door handle, but before her fingers could wrap around it, the door swung open.

Clara jerked back in surprise, then looked up into the equally startled face of Eric. His hair was a mess, either from failed attempts at sleep or from agitated hands running through it. Or maybe both. His rumpled clothes only enhanced the disoriented look, with his shirt collar laying open at his collarbone.

"Clara," he said quietly. There was regret in his voice, along with vague trepidation. "I was coming to find you."

"And I you."

Eric grimaced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I was tired, but that's not an excuse. Of course I want to see your family. I just –"

"I did not mean we should go now," said Clara gently. "I should have specified better when I mentioned it. I know it's been rather busy as of late. I'm sorry too."

Eric let out a sigh. "I promise, once things calm down, we'll visit them."

"I know. We'll go when we can." She looked past him into the library. The room had a warm glow, illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace. "Were you going to sleep here all night?"

"I had been planning on begging for your forgiveness first," Eric replied, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. "And if you threw me out, then I'd try sleeping here."

Clara laughed softly. She took his hand, and felt the weight on her chest lift when he squeezed it. "Can we sit for a bit?"

Eric nodded and stepped aside so Clara could enter the library. He closed the door behind her and they walked over to the library's sofa, settling onto it. Clara hesitated, then set down her candle and shifted closer to Eric. He seemed surprised by the movement, as though expecting her to still want some distance from him. Realizing her crave for touch, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing her head.

"You said that," Clara murmured.

"I know. I just wanted you to hear it again."

Clara turned further towards him, slinging her arm over his stomach so that her hand rested against his hip. She closed her eyes, focusing on his scent: the soap his shirt had been washed in, the ink staining his hands after spending hours in the study, the faint smell of fresh hay. Clara smiled and curled her hand over his hip, bunching up the fabric of his untucked shirt. He must have spent some time in the stables after their argument. It seemed to be one of his favorite places to go when he wanted to be alone.

"When we do visit them, you can't bring Tommy another one of Hoffmann's gifts," Clara said with a yawn. "Grandfather is still furious about the last one." Her grandfather had no idea it was magic, of course, but it had been strange – and slightly destructive – enough for him to warrant a complaint.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," smirked Eric.

Clara briefly tightened her hand on his hip in a half-hearted warning. "No magical gifts."

"Tommy loves them."

"Grandfather will have your head if you do it again."

"Hm." Eric pulled Clara's hair back over her shoulder, weaving his fingers through the golden strands. "We'll have to see."

Clara shook her head in exasperation, too tired to debate the issue any further. Feeling vastly more relaxed after their reconciliation, she soon fell asleep. At first, Eric considered carrying her up to their bed. But sleep was tugging heavily at him, and he settled for nestling his head against hers, not bothered by the soreness he knew he would feel in the morning from the position he was sitting in. As long as Clara was comfortable, he didn't mind.

/

Clara did not often have nightmares. Her dreams were mostly simple and pleasant, ones she didn't mind remembering when waking. Privately, she wondered if the magic within her had some influence on her good fortune.

To her dismay, it was Eric who seemed to be plagued by more troubled dreams.

Fortunately, him having nightmares was not a common occurrence. But if prompted by certain events or memories, they could come back with a particular harshness. The confrontation with Theda was no exception, to Eric's annoyance.

It was late into the night, nearly a week after the events in Theda's cave. Eric tossed and turned, discontent mumblings leaking from his mouth as he drifted through tangled dreams. His movements eventually drew Clara from her slumber, and she turned towards her husband. She placed a hand on his shoulder, concern knitting her brow as she gently shook him.

"Eric. Eric, love…"

Eric's movements slowed, and he turned towards Clara's touch. His eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep and shadowed with fading dreams. "Clara?" he breathed.

She sighed sympathetically, stroking his neck. "Do you want to tell me what it was about?"

"No." The word weighed heavily on his tongue. Guilt seeped into Eric's expression. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Clara rubbed her thumb across his cheek. "I don't mind." She moved closer so that she lay partially on his chest, with her head tucked beneath his chin. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone as he embraced her. "I'll stay up all night if you need me to," she whispered.

Eric let out a shaky breath, unable to form a reply. It was only after Clara felt him relax in sleep that she allowed herself to drift off as well.

I'll protect you. Her promise to him echoed vaguely in her mind. She may have murmured it out loud, but she wasn't sure in the heavy drowsiness of the night.

The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the faint tightening of Eric's arms around her.