A/N: Anyone remember Possibly the Complications? This is a follow up, taking place about three weeks or so later, and referring to the trigger events from said story. So if you didn't read that, probably shouldn't read this, either. For everyone else: smutty smut smut. Uh-huh.

Also, if everyone is wondering about my suddenly very increased posting frequency: mackenziesmomma is working on her beta back log to get ready for December and the story I promise people in my Holiday Fic Request meme on LJ and I am working on my posting back log...

A Deep Sea of Blankets

"You want love?
We'll make it
Swim in a deep sea
Of blankets
Take all your big plans
And break 'em
This is bound to be awhile."

John Mayer, "Your Body is a Wonderland"

She's beautiful. That's what it always comes down to in the end. When he watches her sleep in the morning, that is. It happens now and then, usually when they're both on the graveyard shift and sleeping in or when it's their mutual day off and when he didn't fall into bed tired enough that he could sleep an entire day, which happens way too often… but not today.

Today he woke up around 0900, listening to the waves rolling against the beach his parents' guestroom looks out on, Laura lying beside him. There's a second set of windows facing south and tentative rays of sunshine lick at the foot of the bed and soft wind is billowing the curtains. Still pleasantly drowsy, he lazily turns his head toward Laura again.

She's lying on her stomach, hugging her pillow, her face turned toward him and her beautiful hair spilled all around her. Her eyes are still closed and her lips are slightly parted, just begging him to kiss them but the sound of her regular deep breathing is so precious right in this moment that he doesn't dare to move.

Because see, it's been three weeks since she nearly got blown up on a training mission for the SGC – she'd been supposed to whip their NCOs in shape, just like she'd done with Atlantis's NCOs a couple of months back – and while officially, they're here on simple leave, for her it was convalescent leave. And if he looks really close, he can even still see remnants of the bruises that had covered her body shining through her beautiful translucent skin… and they'd just been her least worry back then.

God, he still remembers those awful two days when she'd been in an artificial coma, to let whatever technology they'd used heal her body. She'd still been pretty weak when they woke her up but at least she had woken up at all. It had taken her another week in the Atlantis infirmary until they had decided that they could discharge her and yeah, he had a pretty hard time of convincing her to take it easy… until he'd found her curled up on the sofa crying with frustration after arguing with her mother about currently not being able to buy a damn dress and no she could not tell her why, thank you very much.

After that, he'd simply told her to pack for a couple of weeks because they'd been scheduled for leave anyway, had told his parents he needed the beach house for exactly those couple of weeks and had sworn his mother to secrecy that she would not reveal their location to anyone, not even under torture. Actually, that had been one of the very few times ever Laura had simply done what he'd told her to do, no questions asked.

So now they're here and he still feels the constant urge to pull her into his arms and thank God for not taking her away from him and most of all to never let her go out there again every damn minute of every damn day. He also is being reminded of the fact that she lost a baby he still hasn't told her about but he became pretty good at ignoring that. If he didn't, it would probably eat him up alive.

He looks at her again, actually turns around very carefully, so as not to wake her up just yet. To him, it's a small miracle that she's lying beside him now because God it could have gone so much worse. Somehow, this had been worse than any other time she'd been hit before.

He doesn't know what it was because it certainly wasn't the first time seeing her in ICU… maybe it was the tube in her mouth and the way her skin looked almost whiter than the sheets on her bed and… and… how small she looked. Yeah… that was it. So small and fragile and that's just not the Laura he's used to and the realization that he could really lose her in the blink of an eye had hit him with breathtaking brutality and…

Just fucking stop it. He did not lose her and she's practically fully recovered, lying beside him warm and breathing and… smelling so damn good, too. Alright, he knows he should probably let her sleep but there's this need to reassure himself that she's really here so he slowly raises himself up and very softly moves her hair away from her naked shoulder. There's her skin now and he bends down to put a very light kiss on it.

At first, she doesn't stir, just keeps on breathing deeply and regularly and he can't resist trailing his index finger along the exposed upper half of her back and boy does he love it that she decided to take up sleeping naked again here, where the danger of being roused from her sleep in the middle of the night for any kind of emergency is near zero, even with the memory of his stint as a Goa'uld host ghosting through the house now and then.

And anyway, that's not what he wanted to think about now. All he wants to think about now is that she took to wearing nothing in bed and that it's so wonderful to feel her skin and he just has to give in to the temptation of drawing butterfly light patterns on her back…

"Mh, watcha doin'?" What… oh. Half-lidded hazel eyes full of sleep squint at him from under a lock of strawberry blond hair that fell into her face. Oh God.

"Using my favorite canvas to paint on." Hey, that was pretty smooth, considering that probably ninety per cent of his brain just went to mush when she smiled drowsily, kind of like a cat just having woken from a nap.

There's a little sleepy frown, or maybe it's a pout and it's not really important what it is anyway because whatever it is, it's killing him. "'M no canvas, featherbrain."

He can't help but grin and bend down to kiss her nose. "Sure are, little bullet head."

"'M no bullet head, either." Oh, yes, she very much is. But Jesus is she adorable when she's being it still half-asleep. "Stop talking nonsense." To emphasize her point, she makes the effort to rise from her position high enough to kiss him on the mouth and that… that's kinda his undoing.

Keeping on kissing her, he gently rolls her on her back and for a fleeting moment the thought that they're in his parents' house and shouldn't that kind of keep them from any extracurricular activities, if her state as a recoveree didn't, floats to the surface of his rather preoccupied mind but it's gone before he even decides whether to make an effort to keep it or not.

It's much better to kiss that wonderful spot just below her right ear to make her arch her back slightly, anyway. And to run his hand down her side, as slow as possible, so as not to miss an inch of precious uncovered skin, still cool despite the rays of sun warming the room up. And to feel one of her hands run through his hair, grasping it when he hits the hollow of her throat with his lips, another one of his favorite sensitive spots.

It never fails to make her whimper just a little bit, almost inaudible, and that's one of the most beautiful sounds he knows. So… goddamn… beautiful… "Didn't you say… should take it… easy?"

How the hell can she think… okay. Yes, he did. Which is why until now, there had been a lot of cuddling but not a lot of other activities even though he'd ached to touch her, all of her… Well. He looks up, grins at her. "I am taking it easy with you. Making it really nice and slow…"

"Evil bastard," she says but it truly lacks any hostility at all. There's even that wonderful wicked grin hinted at that he loves so much.

"Didn't hear you complaining about it before," is all he can muster up and then he just has to pay her wonderful breasts the respect they deserve. Wonderful firm and round and… damn, he can still make her bury her hand in his hair and writhe beneath him, even after knowing her body and her reactions inside out.

What's almost better, though, is that she just needs to whisper his name and slide her foot along his legs to make him all fuzzy… with the sheets between them. That's almost like torture, that flimsy piece of fabric between the skin of her foot and that of his legs… determined not to be outdone by her, he moves his mouth further down south… and suddenly he stops.

There's… the scar where they needed to cut her skin to rearrange her broken ribs. It's a couple of weeks old now but still fresh and pink and he can't stop staring at it, unable to breathe. So close… he came so close to losing her. He… "Evan?" What? "Hey… you okay?"

Forcing himself to tear his gaze away, he lifts himself up on his hands and looks at her. The beautiful hair is a little disheveled but still spread all around her, spilling partly over her shoulders, the freckles on her face are even more prominent after a week on the beach, those wonderful lips are parted slightly… and her eyes are looking questioningly at him. "Yeah," he hears himself say hoarsely, while moving towards her face again, "I'm good."

With that, he kisses her again, gently straddling her, trying not to get tangled in the sheets. He kisses her as if he might never be able to kiss her again, cupping her face with his hands and taking his time, savoring her. After an endless moments, he dimly registers that she must have caught on and maybe she even has an idea what made him react like that because she's scary like that sometimes and anyway, he feels her responding to his kiss in the same feverish but slow way.

After that, he takes care to cover every spot of her naked skin he can possibly reach, kind of memorizing her contours so he will never forget them and she makes him insane with distracting him again and again with putting those nimble fingers to good use in every sensitive spot she ever must have discovered on his body. Jesus fucking Christ in fucking Heaven, she's just so fucking good.

Okay, so there's this one awkward moment he dimly remembers that she'd been on all kinds of meds recently and that Jennifer said something about taking care she might not end up pregnant again in the near future and he uses the very small portion of his brain that has not turned to that hot, fuzzy place it always goes when he's loving Laura as desperately and as slowly as that to fumble around one-handedly for protection in the nightstand's drawer… And when he gets it, she looks at him quizzically, even through the haze he induced and he finds himself stammering something about recently having been on a planet with an… interesting effect on the human procreative drive and just wanted to take care, in case the effect hadn't completely worn off before he went on leave…

For a moment she stares at him dumbfounded but then her laughter rings through the room, clear and warm like the morning light pouring in and sparkling like the sea outside and well, she then takes matters in her own hands, so to speak, so they get that sorted out pretty fast and can get back to business.

And God, what business that is. Still wanting to take it slow, he moves carefully and slowly enough to make her swearing at him that if he doesn't speed it up right fucking now she'll find something to make him give her what she needs from him. He is, of course, only too happy to oblige her and there comes this moment where he just can't hold it back anymore and just lets go…

Later, just after catching their breath again, he's lying on his back, his arm around her and her head on his chest. Her fingers draw little circles on his abs, just high up enough above the waistline to be teasing. Right now, though, all he feels is warm contentment and the feeling that he could stay like this for all eternity.

"Evan?", she says after another moment and he can only offer an inarticulate questioning sound. "How about we stay in bed today?"

Mh. They'll have to eat at some point and she started her running routine again two days ago and he'd offered to accompany her to make sure she wouldn't push herself past her limits and he promised his mother he'd do something about the recalcitrant plumbing in the kitchen… "Whatever you want, Buttercup, whatever you want."

Okay, so that was not what he should have said but all the things they'd planned for today pale when she breathes a very content, "Good, farm boy." A day in bed it is. Well, there could definitely be worse ways spending it.