CUDDLING

Dingo was a cuddler.

She probably should have known. Really, he was a big softie all the way around so she should have realized he would want her as close as possible as they slept. And she did mean as close as possible. He literally seemed to fold himself around her, tucking her into the hollow formed at his center. She had to admit, it was a near-perfect fit, but that didn't mean it was always comfortable.

They would come home from a job out in the desert and she'd be hot and sweaty and tired, and it was all she could do to strip down to her underwear and plop on the bed. Dingo would do the same and they would lay there side by side until they fell asleep – or, more accurately, until Dingo fell asleep. Awake he understood her discomfort, even if he didn't share it, but, inevitably, when he fell asleep he would flop over and wrap himself around her - unconsciously seeking closeness. She wondered how he'd ever slept before they got together.

At first it had been smothering, but she was getting used to it. The desert days were hot, but the nights could be frigid; his warmth and the weight of his arms around her soothed her, and it was actually kind of nice to be that close to another person and not be doing anything.

Tonight, however, something was different. Dingo had been injured on their job and, after a thorough cleaning and patch up, had stiffly lay down on his back and fallen asleep. Angela stared at the gauze covering the right side of his ribs and sighed. It'd been hours since then and she couldn't fall asleep.

It wasn't worry. Dingo would be fine. He was fine. It was only a surface wound, even if it was the size of her palm, and they'd gotten it clean right away, so there wasn't any danger of infection.

No, this was something simpler – and much more complex. She missed him. Missed his touch.

Angela leaned up on her elbow and peered at the strip of mattress left bare on his other side. It was pretty narrow, but she thought she might just be able to make it. She had no other choice if she wanted to sleep really, because there was no way she was waking Dingo to move him.

Cautiously, she slid from between the sheets and crawled over him, careful not to touch his injury or jostle the bed. She tugged the sheets from the side of the bed and pulled them over herself. It really was a tight fit, she had to turn on her side to avoid hanging off the edge, but that'd been the whole point anyway.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, she wedged one arm under his, twining the fingers of their hands together, and then rested the other on his bare shoulder, her body stretched along his uninjured side. She laid her head against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall as he breathed and the soft, steady thump of his heart beat. His face turned toward hers and he made a little hum of contentment in his sleep. Peace settled over her immediately and she relaxed into him with a satisfied sigh, eyes drifting closed, sleep already stealing thought away.

Angela was a cuddler, but only because Dingo made her that way. The man was damn infectious, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

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A/N: See, super short. I think this is the shortest one of the ten I've written so far . . .