Abbie wakes from fitful sleep around three in the morning. Her mind hadn't rested since Ichabod walked in on her the night before. She sighs and sits up on the edge of her bed, sliding her feet into the soft confines of her plush slippers. 'Might as well put on a robe,' she thinks, desperate to avoid another incident with Crane and possibly giving him a heart attack.
She chuckles to herself at the thought. Poor guy definitely never saw anything like that before. But the seriousness of the issue dawns on her again and her laughter fades away.
Abbie pads to the kitchen for a cup of tea, but sees none other than Ichabod himself sitting glumly on the couch. She briefly considers running back to her room, but when she moves to take a step she knows she's been spotted.
"Leftenant-"
'Damn it,' she thinks. Oh well, too late now. She squares her shoulders and walks towards him, plopping onto the couch beside him. Abbie hopes she comes off as comfortable and relaxed. Ichabod, on the other hand, is as rigid as stone. He breaks her out of her thoughts with a huge, un-Ichabod like sigh. She takes that as her cue to finally look him in the face.
His hair hangs in tendrils around his face, only half of it pulled back in his usual pony tail. His jaw is stiff, and under his eyes are ugly purple circles, as if he'd been missing sleep for days rather than a single night. The pink of his bottom lip lay nestled between his teeth as he worries it gently. His eyes scan the room constantly, not once landing on Abbie. The sight makes Abbie's insides hurt.
"Crane." His eyes meet hers for half a second before scanning the room once more.
"Crane." He looks at her again, this time questioningly, but he stares slightly above her.
She lets out a frustrated huff. "Crane just look at me."
Finally he does, and she sees the emotions swirling in his clear blue eyes. She easily identifies the embarassment, but seeing guilt on his face surprises her. He has nothing to be guilty for. She brushes off her thoughts, chalking it up to him feeling responsible for breaking the chivalry code or whatever.
She reaches her hand out and brushes his arm lightly, testing the waters. When he doesn't pull away, she scoots next to him and takes his arm in hers. He still sits stiff as a board, but does not halt her actions.
"I'm sorry Crane." She says it softly, a whisper that could only be heard in such close proximity.
He furiously attempts to stand, but she maintains her grasp on him and he finally relents, too concerned with harming her in the process. He lets out a harsh, angry sigh.
"That you would even consider the idea of having to apologize to me is-" He splutters, for once at a loss for words. He takes a moment to collect himself, Abbie waiting patiently for him to continue.
He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales. "Leftenant, you have nothing to be sorry for. My severe lapse in judgement, in common courtesy, has created this muddled mess we are in." He continues, muttering on about his upbringing, his father turning in his grave, the effect of this cursed century.
Abbie winces at the last one. She knows the next few days are going to be the epitome of polite, proper, and unbearable.
"Ichabod." That makes him pause, and he looks at her with wide eyes. They both know the significance of using their first names.
She lets out a breath as she considers her words, ultimately deciding that the truth is best. She closes her eyes.
"I shouldn't have done it. I know I shouldn't have, especially with you right next door. But I couldn't fall asleep and I got frustrated and I did it. So I'm sorry." She looks up at him, awaiting his response.
His eyebrows are furrowed in thought. He sifts through his mind for the proper words but finds nothing, once again rendered speechless by their predicament.
He settles on a lame response. "I still should have knocked."
Abbie laughs and the tension eases quickly. She nuzzles closely into his side, the weight of sleep hitting her hard. Ichabod lays back and holds her close.
In a sleep filled daze, Abbie mumbles, "At least I'd had the blanket on."
Ichabod stiffens. He relaxes quickly when Abbie makes a noise in protest, but his mind races. He lays there, another restless sleep ahead of him as he fights himself internally, desperately trying not to imagine her without the blanket.