Admittedly, I was a little disappointed that Oswald hadn't invited me to share his bed, but spending the night on a couch next door to his bedroom still got me somewhat excited. Which was of little help falling asleep. The room was chilly in spite of the radiator having been set to maximum.

An hour into my sleeplessness I gave in. On the cold floor I tiptoed to the bedroom and hesitantly knocked. No response. No sooner had I reached for the knob that Oz swung the door open.

"What happened?" He had a gun in his hand.

"N-nothing! I'm sorry, I just wanted to ask you something."

He threw one of his diva fits, walked back in and stowed the gun away in a bedside table.

"Well, what is it?"

I couldn't bear him being angry with me.

"I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have disturbed you," I reached out to shut the door.

He sighed. "Look, just... What is it?"

"I was just wondering if you had another blanket for me. I couldn't fall sleep, it was too cold."

Oswald took his time before replying.

"Sleep here."

All of a sudden a wave of heat rushed through my body.

In the absence of an immediate response, he felt compelled to elaborate. "I have no more blankets. It should be warmer if you sleep here."

"I got that."

"Do you not want to?"

Was he sulking?

"I do! I just... I do. Thank you."

Seemingly reassured, Oswald got into bed.

"You coming?" I hadn't moved.

Hasty I shut the door behind me and moved to the opposite side of the bed. Oswald had lied down with his back towards me. Mirroring him, I climbed under the king-size comforter.

Out of the frying pan into the fire. How was I ever supposed to fall asleep now, a hand's width away from the guy my heart beat for?

Pounded like mad, actually, at the moment. I couldn't make up my mind whether him wearing full pyjamas was a bummer or a blessing.

After a while I dared to roll over.

"Are you still awake?" He almost whispered and yet startled me.

"Yes?"

"Still too cold?"

I had forgotten all about that.

"I don't know." Mentally I chastised myself for the idiotic reply as soon as the words had left my lips.

Abruptly, Oz turned around. Faced me.

"You don't know?"

I was about to shrug, then realised it would not have been visible.

A moment passed. Neither of us made a move. Oswald's breath softly flowed over my face.

At last he dissolved the tension by rolling onto his back, his eyes shut.

Could he have intended to offer body warmth in case I was still cold? I could not differentiate between fact and wishful thinking any more.

I studied his profile against the gloomy light of the window across the room. The spiky hair. The bridge of his nose. The curve of his lips.

The curve of his lips.

I could have bent over him. I could have felt his breath again. I could have-

I shook off the thought.

However, I had to take my chances on the other matter. I would have regretted no to.

Under our shared comforter I shifted closer to him. As Oz lifted his head I stopped midway, doubtful if this was a sign to back off.

It was not. Oswald stretched out his arm across the bed.

It was an invitation.

I bridged the gap. With caution I laid my head upon his chest. In return, Oz brought his arm back under the bedspread, embracing my shoulders.

Deliberately, I placed my hand farther up, only to run down his chest, tracing the flesh beneath the cotton. Oswald exhaled. He shifted a bit and, having found a comfortable position, lay still. I indulged in the light movements of his respiration and the sound of his heartbeat for a little longer, then finally got off to sleep.