Abbie couldn't sleep, she tossed from one side of his bed to the other. She was exhausted and wired at the same time. She knew even if she managed to fall asleep, she'd wake up in a few hours, at the precipice of a maddening dream, her orgasm imminent. Turnabout's fair play, my ass. I'm not about to get caught with my hand down my pants in Crane's bed, she thought. She tried to calm her mind, forget about the smell of him all around her, forget about everything. After several hours of wrestling with her thoughts, she knew sleep wasn't coming easily tonight.

Quietly, she ventured out of the bedroom to the small kitchenette, making her way quietly in the dim light that shone in from outside. Crane's long legs were hanging off the end of the couch, still wearing those hideous thick socks he wore. The fireplace held only a few glowing embers. She grabbed a glass and got some water from the tap. She listened to the soft, even breaths and hisses from the couch and she knew he was fast asleep. The small throw draped over him only managed to cover him from chest to a little past his knees, he was so tall. With his hair undone, falling in his face, sleeping so peacefully, he seriously looked like the prettiest white Jesus she'd ever seen. That thought tickled her so much she almost choked on her water, her chest seizing as she felt water going down the wrong way. Her coughing startled him awake.

"Dear God, Abbie, are you alright?" he asked, jumping off the couch and coming around to pat her on the back. Once she'd caught her breath, his hand remained on her back, moving in large, soothing circles. She could swear it felt like his hand would burn right through the thin material of her shirt. Abbie had to steel herself to keep from melting into his touch.

"Yeah...yeah", she cleared her throat. "I'm fine." she croaked out.

He gave her that famous eyebrow raise, the one he used to ask if she was sure of something without having to actually question her judgement.

Her eyes widened, "I'm fine," she demanded.

Crane noticed the fire, or what was left of it and slowly went over to add more logs. He knelt down at the fireplace, expertly poking and prodding at the embers with the long metal fire poker.

"Not sleeping well?" he asked as he added another log to the fire. He prodded them around some more.

"No, not really. Figured I'd get up and get a swig of water."

"Ahh, yes." he chided. "I'm sorry I've none of that fancy bottled water you love. "

She responded with a small groan. "It's too late for your sarcasm, Crane."

He stood and made his way back to the too short couch and too small blanket. She took a seat on the old wooden table in front of the couch, elbows to knees and looking at the floor.

"Too tired to sleep at this point, I guess" she said. "Didn't intend to wake you up though." She thought about what had tickled her to start with, and almost started giggling again. "Oh man, I hate when you get so tired that everything becomes hilarious." she stated, more to herself than to him.

"What, exactly, was it that entertained you so?" he asked, polite and inquisitive like a child.

She started to try and tell him but the giggles got the better of her. OHmygod I am so tired, why is this so funny. She laughed until tears threatened to spill down her face.

"I looked at you laying there sleeping. You looked so peaceful," she laughed again.

Confused, Crane interrupted before she could regain her composure. "The humor of this is lost on me, I'm afraid."

"No, no. I thought you just looked so peaceful, and with your hair down I thought you looked like the prettiest white Jesus I'd ever seen and I lost it." The giggles continued, she couldn't stop even though her stomach was starting to hurt.

"Well," Crane said as he tentatively touched at his hair, "I'm not sure as to why that is so amusing, but I'll take it as a compliment," the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile.

She wiped her eyes, and held her sides as the laughter finally started to die. He watched her intently, as usual, but tonight there was something different. His gaze was more intense, like he was studying her, burning her into his memory, making her skin prickle like a shiver but without the chill.

"So what was keeping you awake?" he asked, his stare still intense on her, the slightest hint of a cheshire cat grin waiting at one corner of his mouth.

His gaze was starting to unnerve her. She was too tired to deal with pretty jesus right now.

"Let me sleep on the couch. I cannot sleep in your bed," she bargained.

"What is the matter with my bed? Is it not comfortable? More pillows, perhaps?"

"No.."

He continued despite her protest. "There's more quilts here somewhere I'm sure."

"No. No more quilts. It feels fine. It just smells like you." she blurted out. Son of a bitch, did I just say that out loud.

Crane was take aback, either taken aback by what she'd said or offended, she couldn't tell.

He feigned offense. "Ms. Mills, are you trying to tell me that..I reek?"

She sighed loudly. "I didn't say that. I said your bed smells like you, not that you reek." She left out the part about her brain going a million miles a minute, the smell of him all around her driving her to her wits end, feeling electrified and leaving her wound up like a loaded spring ready to pop.

Crane just looked at her, his hands twitched in his lap, his long pale fingers moving nervously. Oh god she had it fucking bad. She could just sit here and fantasize about his damn hands in her pants while her stared her down.

She was tired, no, exhausted. She was lonely. They'd been burning the candle at both ends, never taking enough time to do anything. Not enough time to mourn their losses, to come to terms with their roles in this. Abbie didn't have it in her to quell the nervous torrents of emotions that rose up so often now. The only thing she could do was act.

"You know what the problem is Crane?" she asked in the most smart ass tone she could manage despite the flutters in her stomach. She stood over him. "The problem is, I am exhausted out of my mind, I haven't had a decent nights sleep in weeks and now you've got me in your bed, alone." She straddled him on the couch, startling a gasp from his lips and his eyes widened in surprise. "The same bed, might I add, that I walked up on you lying naked in." She brought her face closer to his, the red flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck to his face. She smirked, "If that's what you want to call it."

He closed his eyes, betrayed by the way his body wanted to respond to the knees pressed against his hips and embarrassed at the indiscretion she spoke of.

"Oh no. No. Miss Mills, I thought we had agreed..." he looked helplessly at anything other than her. "I thought we would not speak of that anymore."

Abbie couldn't contain the sly smile spreading across her face. Seeing Crane so obviously at odds with himself just because of her, the proper gentleman at war with the baser animal instincts, was like spraying gas on a fire. She was familiar the Crane that held open doors and spoke eloquently at all times. Tonight, the way he'd looked at her had her wanting to see the other Crane. Undone, unguarded, uninhibited.
With one hand, she brought his face up towards hers, so they were eye to eye. Her hand was shaking but he didn't seem to notice.

Tentatively, she brought her lips to his face, grazing his skin with feather light kisses, coming close to his lips but not quite.

"I'm not interested in talking." she whispered into his ear. With that, his resolve splintered. His hands cupped her face, pressing his lips to hers.

A/N: Sorry, I've been going through some personal stuff and had written this but I kept obsessing and going back and ughhhh you know. And I couldn't resist pretty white jesus. Had to. Not sorry. I think I may do one more chapter of smut but idk.