A/N: Just a cute little scene I had in my head tonight. Properly disclaimed, of course.
Light Sleeper
Lizzie eased open the door to Red's bedroom. The safe house they were using in Normandy was a drafty stone farmhouse, heated inadequately by fireplaces in the bedrooms. The fire was down to live coals in Red's room, and she was hoping to borrow a pair of socks. She knew they would be far too large, but her feet were freezing.
He was sleeping when she came in, curled on his side, facing the fire. The warm glow blurred the lines around his nose and mouth; he looked almost ten years younger. He's wearing a fleece sweatshirt; he must have been cold as well. She stepped carefully, trying very hard to avoid making the old wood floorboards creak under her weight.
She reached the bureau and carefully opened the bottom drawer. She smiled when she saw the neatly folded socks, arranged by color. Her hand had just grasped a pair of thick hiking socks when she heard the rack of a pistol, whose cold barrel was now under her ear.
"Move an inch, and I will drop you like dirt." Her gasp echoed in the room, and she dropped the socks back in the drawer.
"Red?" her voice almost squeaked. Was he sleepwalking? Oh god, she should have just stayed in her room and died of hypothermia like a smart woman.
"Lizzie?" He was still half-asleep, voice barely above a growl. The barrel moved away and she heard him release the slide. Light flooded the room as he hit the switch for the lamp. Hands like vises gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face him.
"What are you thinking, sneaking around like that? I could have killed you!"
"Yes, I see that."
"Well what in sam hill do you need? Was it important enough to get shot?"
Lizzie feels herself begin to tremble, both from the cold and from the shock of being threatened in the middle of the night. Red rubs his eyes and grabs his glasses off the bedside table. She's wearing a thin tank and a pair of shorts; no wonder she's freezing. But he can also tell that he scared the hell out of her, so he pulls her into his body and wraps her tightly in his arms, rubbing her skin to warm her. She's still shivering, but she's slowly relaxing.
Red pulls back a fraction so he can look at her face. Her color is returning.
"You okay? I'm so sorry Lizzie, I'm a light sleeper."
Her eyebrows arch incredulously.
"A light sleeper? Is that what you call it? Not a psychotic episode, then, what a relief! I just wanted some socks, Red. My feet are cold." Her voice, petulant and cross, and if he is correct, the beginning of a fine pout on her pretty face. He smiles down at her.
"You're cold, Lizzie? Well, by all means, let's warm you up."
"Wait, Red…" She doesn't get another word before he sweeps her up and tosses her gently on to the large bed. He crawls in after her, pulls her into his side with her head on his shoulder. He kisses her forehead and brushes her hair back.
"Get some rest, Lizzie. I'll keep you safe."
She is already half asleep, but he hears her mumble before she drifts off, "Who's gonna save me from you, Red?"