She started, siting up in a flash of panic, gasping to fill lungs that felt as if she'd been underwater for ages. Lips caught her own. Wally's open mouth swallowing her scream (so she wouldn't wake the others, not to comfort her. He'd tried smothering her screams with a hand before, it hadn't worked). Her blue eyes were frantic, she raised a hand to strike, then her panicked mind caught up. Her body relaxed marginally, she kissed back in thanks. She hated to wake the rest of the team, they slept little enough as was (and the taste of his mouth blotted the bitterness from hers).
Green eyes met hers. His red hair was messy, one hand was buried in her own hair, the other was still wrapped around her waist from sleep. The bare skin of his chest sparked where it touched hers. The mission, a hostage negotiation, had gone badly. His teeth caught her bottom lip.
They had done everything right (she would repeat it until they all believed it). She dug ragged nails into his back, mouth desperate on his.
The hostage had been killed (black hair, brown eyes, red shirt, blue jeans, only had one earing, silver locket). Robin and M'gann had been messes (Artemis had gone cold, sloppy was the only thing on her mind). Wally's mouth made a slow progression down her jaw. She let him, she found comfort in him as he did in her.
Sometime after she had managed to calm down (and he had reassured himself she was alright). She lay drifting into sleep, counting the breaths of those around her (peaceful for once, two of Wally's for every one of the others). She used Wally's chest as a pillow, his arms wrapped securely around her, the pads of his fingers lay against bare skin, (a soothing physical reminder that they were still gloriously alive), the steady staccato of his heart beat finally lulled her back to sleep.