Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)
They paused at the top of the stairs, both mentally considering the few steps that still needed to be completed before they could hopefully put that long, emotional day to rest. Jane glanced at Kurt and wondered if, for his sake, he might be able to make it the last few minutes without another flashback. Watching him suffer through them again and again was worse than if she'd been suffering through them herself. After all, she'd had a long time to get used to that sort of thing by now. She remembered how jarring they had been in the first few days, and she hated to see him going through that pain, even if it wasof a slightly different sort.
"I'll be right in," he told her, stepping away from her slowly in the direction of the hallway bathroom. He didn't want to, of course, but each of them would need at least a few minutes in there before they could go to bed, so he may as well get it over with, he decided. Her gaze followed him and she nodded slightly, their eyes only leaving each other when he stepped inside the bathroom door and it closed behind him.
Alone in the hall, she turned and quietly opened the door to his bedroom. Switching on the light, she glanced around to see everything just as she'd left it, once again soaking in the feeling of going back in time to Kurt's teenage years. She supposed it was the closest a person could get to actual time travel.
Kneeling beside her bag on the floor, she felt tiredness wash over her, both physical and emotional. It had been a long, hard day, and she hoped desperately that this night was easier than the previous one had been. Yes, they'd slept extremely well eventually, but the cost of this had been half a night of nightmares that caused them each to break down completely. She knew that tonight would be different, so why did she feel so… uneasy? It wasn't as though she had any doubts about his intentions. Quite the opposite, actually. No, it was probably just the awkwardness of the fact that they were still in a very fragile place, trying to rebuild their relationship, and once again it was coming down to the issue of trust.
It's now finally been forty-eight hours since we started even talking again, she reasoned. Despite how much has happened in that time, it's still only two days. You can't rebuild trust in two days, no matter how much you want to. Not completely, anyway. You're off to a really good start, but that's what it is – a start. Give yourself a break. None of this is easy for either of you. But at least you can finally admit that it's what you want.
She held her pajamas tightly against her without realizing it, standing up slowly and walking towards the window, once again as if she was drawn by some unseen, magnetic force. Even though Taylor's old house was very much obscured from her view in the dark, she moved the curtain aside and stared in that direction.
The blackness was so complete on that side of the house that she could barely see the snow that was falling only inches outside of the window. So many tiny events had led them to this place, it seemed impossible that they'd ended up here at all. And yet… there she was, in the house where Kurt had grown up, staring towards what she knew to be the former residence of the girl that she'd once thought that she had been.
Why did I get to survive, and Taylor didn't? she wondered bitterly. There was no answer to that question, of course. It was so random, all of it, just like everything else in her life. Just like everything in the world, as far as she could tell.
All at once she felt the weight of far too many problems resting on her shoulders. Even knowing that she hadn't caused them, she felt the burden of them nonetheless. It wasn't fair that she, a woman who had done so many terrible things, had survived while someone like Taylor Shaw, who had been the embodiment of innocence itself, had not. Despite the fact that she'd already had her fill of lessons on the 'life isn't fair' topic, this one still tore at her. It seemed even less fair than all the rest of them.
When Kurt opened the door to the bedroom a few minutes later and saw Jane staring out the window in the direction of Taylor's house, he noticed that she was deep in thought, and didn't seem to hear him come in. Watching her closely for a minute, he saw the anguish in her eyes. His first thought, his only thought, was that he had to make it go away. As much as he himself was hurting, it felt a hundred times worse to see her suffering, and he would have done anything to ease her burden.
Approaching her without hesitation, he slowed down as he reached her, reaching out tentatively to put his right hand on her upper back. She hadn't yet turned to look at him, though she now knew that he was there. When she felt his hand on her back, she felt herself relax significantly, letting go of a breath that she hadn't even realized that she was holding… or maybe that was just the feeling of the weight of the world on her shoulders lessening because he was beside her. All she knew was that he was there, and he made things better with his presence alone.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
Turning to look at him, she nodded at him and smiled weakly. "Yeah," she replied simply, more determined to be okay than actually okay as she leaned towards him. Her stomach flip-flopped when he pulled her closer with the hand that he'd laid on her back, his cheek brushing against her forehead.
"It's been a hell of a day," he observed, feeling her sigh against him.
"Yeah," she said again, nodding again, letting herself lean against him as her arm wound around him, now a comfortable habit. "I'm just going to go get ready…" Wishing that she didn't have to, after a few seconds' hesitation, she stepped away from him, looking back up at him and smiling tiredly. She slowly withdrew her arm from around him, his hand not falling from her back until she took a few steps away and he had no other choice short of walking with her.
Once the door closed behind her, he sighed quietly and found his own pajamas, changing into them and putting away his clothes from that day. As many times as he'd said it to himself, it was still hard to believe that they'd only been there just a little more than one full day. This place and the memories he had there had bombarded him so thoroughly, he felt as though they'd been there for at least a week.
Walking slowly to the bed, he pulled the covers back and sat down hesitantly. They hadn't spoken about the sleeping arrangements since that morning, when they'd agreed that sleeping separately, while it had seemed like the logical choice the night before, hadn't worked the way they'd expected. After they'd both had nightmares and had only finally slept when they'd lain down together, it had become clear to them that they should simply have started out that way. But now that they faced another night, could they overlook the awkwardness of the situation and do as they'd said that they'd wished they'd done the night before?
It's up to her, he told himself. Of course it was up to her. He knew that he would sleep better if he had her close to him, but if she wasn't comfortable with that, then that was okay with him. After all, after the way he'd treated her for the past few months, he owed her proof of just how serious he was when he said that he cared, and of just how important she was to him.
The door opened again softly, and she padded in, the only sound the squeak of the floorboards under her feet.
"Hey," she whispered, her nervous smile betraying just how uncertain she felt just then.
"Hey, welcome back," he replied, watching her carefully.
After tucking her clothes back into her bag, she stood up at looked at him uncertainly. The sleeping bag that they'd now shared twice was folded in the corner of the room, and he sat on the bed, on top of the covers that he'd pulled back.
"So," he began, clearing his throat quietly, "Do you still want to… share? Because I can put the sleeping bag out again…"
Her chest flooded with feelings of affection for him. The idea that he would even suggest taking the floor once again, knowing the nightmares he'd had there the night before, because he didn't want to make her uncomfortable… it was overwhelming.
Smiling warmly now and feeling slightly less awkward, she shook her head. "That didn't go so well last night, remember?" she asked. He smiled back at her, the uncertainty disappearing from his face as her words sunk in.
Just the confirmation that she hadn't changed her mind about wanting to sleep beside him after all almost overwhelmed him with happiness as he scooted himself slowly and deliberately under the blankets. Moving back and propping himself up on his side to make room for her, he watched her as she walked slowly towards him. Despite the confidence in her words, there was still hesitation in her eyes. Now standing in front of the bed, she stopped and looked down at him, as the look in his eyes threatened to take her breath away.
He didn't want to overwhelm her with the rush of emotion inside him, and he tried to keep his face calm. Watching as she smiled nervously at him, he gently patted the space on the mattress beside him. They'd been this close together numerous times now, even fallen asleep pressed together twice, but both of those times it had been after nightmares and breakdowns. They were both currently far more clear-headed than either of those times, and ironically that was what was making this situation more awkward.
As she sat down tentatively on the edge of the bed facing the pillow end, from which he was watching her, bending her right knee towards her, he could still see the combination of awkwardness and nervousness in her face and in the stiff way she moved. He held out his hand to her, perhaps the simplest of gestures, and she reached out to take it, slowly but without hesitation. She seemed to relax slightly then, her smile becoming less tense.
"You can still change your mind," he told her, breaking the silence between them. Once again, she felt a strong rush of emotion, of affection for this man in front of her who was so concerned about her feelings.
It's about time he was concerned about your feelings, about you, the voice in her head said sarcastically.
Hush, she told the voice. That attitude is not welcome here. It doesn't help anything.
Her smile turned less nervous and more genuine then, and she squeezed his hand. "I could," she said slowly, "but I don't want to."
He couldn't help but smile then, because her smile was infectious. Letting go of his hand slowly, she turned and shifted herself until she was under the covers, moving slowly until she was laying down on her side, her face even with his, her right hand laying on what little space still remained between them. It still felt awkward, but less so, as they simply watched each other carefully.
After gazing down at her hand, he covered it with his left, squeezing it gently. This gesture was familiar enough to her by now, and she felt what was left of her awkwardness begin to dissipate. He slipped his right arm behind the single pillow – he hadn't thought to take the other one that was in the far corner of the room with the sleeping bag – just before she laid her head down at her end of that pillow.
"Sorry, I can get the other pillow…" he offered, looking flustered. But she just shook her head, feeling his hand under the pillow brush the back of her neck.
No, this will do just fine, she thought. Realizing that she hadn't said it out loud, she shook her head. "I can share if you can," she told him quietly, at which he chuckled.
"With you? I think I can handle that," he replied. Now that he could see extra space and evaluate how he was going to settle in the small bed, he lifted their joined hands slightly, rolling backwards slightly onto his back, but scooting closer to her, so that there was no space between his left shoulder and the front of her. His hand was still grasped over hers, and he laid her hand back down over his heart, not letting go of it. She shifted slightly, leaning her body against his slowly, as if evaluating the decision over the course of a minute or so. Finally, she relaxed against him.
The only thing left to shift was her left arm, which was pinned under her side somewhat awkwardly. As she lifted herself and moved it slowly, he seemed to know what she was trying to do, raising his head obligingly as she slid her arm behind his neck. Their heads were now very close together, at opposite ends of the pillow but still close enough that when he turned toward her and leaned forward slightly, it was only seconds before their foreheads were leaned against each other.
"You can still change your mind if you want," he whispered.
"You're kidding, right?" she asked, just as quietly. Why would she want to do that? She wasn't sure she'd be able to convince herself to ever move from that spot.
"What can I say?" he asked with a slightly embarrassed grin. "I'm a nice guy. I want to make sure you know that if you're not okay, that's fine. I'll move."
"Don't you dare," she told him, tightening her arms where they were.
He chuckled quietly at her. This was definitely a dream, and the best one he'd ever had. It took a lot of effort for him not to utter the three words that sprang to his mind just then. Even if it was the truth, it was too early for that, he reminded himself. Instead, he let go of the hand that was on his chest, wrapping his left arm around her back and moving in slow circles. As his hand moved, he felt uneven skin through her t-shirt, and felt her tense slightly at the contact. His hand stopped immediately, concerned that he'd hurt her. He'd forgotten all about the still-healing scars that had been left on her by Keaton and the CIA.
"Sorry," he breathed out, afraid to move his hand but not wanting to withdraw it from her… unless that was what she wanted. "Do they… hurt?"
She shook her head against him. "A few of them are a little sensitive, but they're getting better," she replied.
"Should I…?" He moved his head back to look in her eyes, not wanting either of them to misunderstand.
Once again, his concern for her well-being, her happiness, overwhelmed her. No matter what had happened in the past, no one could convince her that he didn't care about her. Not when he looked so terrified of hurting her just then. She couldn't help but smile at him, unable to put into words just how she felt about him.
Don't lie to yourself, the voice in her head said knowingly, you know exactly how you feel about him, even if you think it's too soon.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said, sounding to her as if he was actually in pain himself. "I've done that more than enough for a lifetime already."
That was the moment when she was certain that her heart was about to burst with a combination of the pain she felt on his behalf and the affection that she felt for him at that moment – because how was it possible for a human being to be so damned sweet?
"It doesn't hurt," she said in a voice that was barely a whisper. When he looked at her uncertainly, she smiled wider. "I promise. Exactly the opposite, actually."
She leaned forward slowly without another thought and kissed him, forgetting everything around them for a few blissful seconds. It was a slow and fairly innocent kiss, their lips soft against each other, and after a minute she leaned back, wondering if she'd just made things even more awkward than they'd started out.
But he surprised her, looking at her without a hint of discomfort. "You can still change your mind if you want," he whispered again, his eyes filled with absolute sincerity.
The hand that she had been holding over his heart lifted slowly and moved to his right cheek, her thumb moving across his stubble gently as he instinctively leaned into her hand.
"Got it," she said. "And I still don't want to. I like you right where you are."
He smiled back at her warmly, a little embarrassed now. "I won't keep saying it… if you promise me that you'll remember that no matter what happens, it's still true," he said, looking intently into her eyes.
"I promise," she whispered.
"Good," he replied simply. When she stifled a yawn, he chuckled. "I think after the day we've had, we both deserve a good night's sleep. What do you say?" he asked, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand, then turning back to face her as her hand moved back to its previous position over his heart.
"Sounds good to me, as long as it's right here," she replied, already feeling her eyelids fluttering closed. She hadn't even realized how tired she was until just then.
The last thing she remembered seeing before falling asleep was that look in his eyes… she'd seen it before, but had refused to let herself believe that it meant what her brain tried to tell her that it did. After all, it was impossible... wasn't it? Except that now, she was finally realizing that it wasn't impossible, that he might actually feel the same way about her than she did about him. With that thought in mind, she couldn't help but smile.
Surely, it's not actually possible to be this happy, she thought.
He watched as she fell asleep before his eyes, the smile on her face telling him everything he needed to know. "Good night, Jane," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. It was only another minute before he drifted off to sleep himself, absolutely certain that he'd never been as happy as he was at that moment.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the darkness. For a split second, he didn't even know where he was, which jolted him awake, his eyes widening as he looked around frantically. The details came rushing back to him and he relaxed, now wondering why he'd awoken. Jane was there in front of him, now facing away from him, having turned in her sleep, and his arm was wrapped around her waist. The clock said that it was just after 2:00 am. It only took a few more seconds before he realized that something was off. First of all, the chill in the air reminded him of their time stuck in that freezing cold car…
Why the hell is it so cold in here? he wondered. Even snuggled under the blankets with Jane, he could feel the cold. His brain was now awake and functioning, and he realized that Jane was shivering slightly. He knew that he needed to get up and check the thermostat, and he wasn't looking forward to it. The first issue, however, would be getting out of bed with Jane firmly tucked between him and the edge of the bed, since his side of the bed was pushed against the wall.
"Jane," he whispered, "I need to go and check the thermostat. I think the heat went out." Without opening her eyes, she scooted away from him slightly, just enough to give him a little room to move. Even so, he had to either pull the blankets all the way off of both of them, which seemed like a slightly cruel thing to do to a still-sleeping Jane, or to climb over her while disturbing the blankets as little as possible.
The less traumatizing of the two options, at least for Jane, he decided, was to climb over her. Of course, this presented its own unique set of challenges, such as, lifting all of his weight over her while not lifting the blankets off of her completely and hopefully not waking her up, at least yet… This was going to be interesting.
Moving slowly, he carefully reached around her. She'd rolled onto her back after she'd scooted over. In a way it made it easier to climb over her, but in another way it was more difficult because he had to stretch farther.
And then there's the fact that you're looking straight down at her as you climb over her, his mind offered helpfully.
Don't start, he thought warningly.
He was in mid-climb, his left arm and leg on the left side of her and his right arm and leg on her right, when she shifted. He could only imagine how awkward it would be if she woke up just then, and heaven forbid if she was startled to find him there, which wouldn't have been a surprise to him… Thankfully, he managed to climb the rest of the way over her without waking her up, to his relief, and he stepped onto the creaky floor below, tucking the blankets back around her and pulling a sweatshirt over his head as he padded out of the room.
Now where's the thermostat again? he asked himself. After all, it had been years since the last time he was even in that house. He knew that it was somewhere downstairs, so he wandered down there and finally found the small box on the wall in the family room. Tapping on a button that made the screen illuminate, and he saw that the temperature in house had dropped to 61 degrees. No wonder it was so cold! Walking a few feet away to the nearest light switch, he flipped it up. As he had feared, nothing happened.
Perfect, he thought in irritation. With a sense of foreboding, he walked to the window, cupping his hands around his face to try to look outside. He could just barely see outside, since there was no light, but he could see just enough to notice that the snow was still falling quickly in huge flakes. Exactly as he'd feared. It didn't look like they'd be leaving the next day, after all.
In the short term, however, they had bigger problems. It was already very cold in the house, and chances were that the temperature would continue to fall until whenever the heat came back on. He took several logs from their stockpile against the wall and went to the fireplace, setting them up so that he could light a fire and finding the matches in their hiding place on the mantle. Thankfully, the flame took on the first try, and within minutes he felt the heat begin filling the room. Wondering if there were still flashlights in the hall closet, as there had been all those years ago when he'd lived there, he found his way there in the dark and reached up to the top shelf. Sure enough, there was a basket containing three flashlights. He tried each of them, and thankfully they all worked. At least one thing had gone right.
Replacing the basket but bringing the flashlights with him, he walked back upstairs and knocked on Sarah's door. "Sarah," he said, loudly enough that he hoped she would wake up. He didn't want to wake her up, of course, but he also didn't want her to wake up later in a subzero bedroom. He heard muffled noise inside the room, and then a minute later she opened the door, her hair sticking out at odd angles and still half asleep, looking tired, worried and confused all at once.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes only half open.
"Power's out, and the heat," he told her.
"Wow, that hasn't happened since we were kids, as far as I know," she said, shaking her head sleepily. "Are you going to sleep downstairs?"
"Yeah, it's going to be the only warm part of the house pretty soon," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
"I'll get Sawyer, and our blankets," she yawned.
"I already started the fire," he told her, to which she nodded. "You might want these," he added, handing her two of the flashlights.
"Thanks, I'll see you down there," she said with a yawn. With that, she turned around to go back and gather as many of the blankets as she could from her bed, and probably put on an extra layer of clothes, too. Kurt turned around and went down the hall to his own room.
After closing the door quietly behind him, for a second he just stood and looked at Jane, snuggled in the blankets of the twin bed they'd been sharing. Glancing at the sleeping bag in the corner of the room, he couldn't help but think how funny it was that they were about to crawl into it for a third time – along with as many of the blankets from the bed as possible, too. Boy was it lucky he'd brought it along.
Walking across the room to the bed, he sat down on the edge and looked at her. Upon closer inspection he saw that she was still shivering slightly, as she had been when he'd gotten up, and he remembered the reason why he had no choice but to wake her up. Smoothing his hand over her hair slowly, he said in a loud whisper, "Jane, sweetheart… we have to wake up." It took a few seconds before her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him in sleepy confusion.
"What's going on?" she asked with concern, scooting closer to him.
"The power's out, and the heat is, too. It's already down to sixty one degrees in here. We need to take our bedding downstairs by the fireplace, it's warmer down there… at least I hope it will be," he added. "It'll be like a big slumber party."
She smiled tiredly, leaning her cheek against his hand. "I've never been to one of those," she said as her eyes drifted closed again.
"Come on, Jane, let's get up and take our stuff downstairs, and we'll go back to sleep by the fireplace. Okay?" he coaxed her gently.
Her eyes opened again, and suddenly she grinned at him. "Wait, so are we sleeping in the sleeping bag again, then?"
"It looks like it," he told her, with the suspicion that his eyes were twinkling at the thought just as much as he could see that hers were. "And as many other blankets as we can fit in there with us, too."
Sighing heavily, now partially awake, Jane attempted to sit up, but fell back down against the pillow in defeat. "I can't do it. Just go on without me… I'm too tired," she declared dramatically, the hint of a smile on her face.
"As if that would ever happen," he whispered, putting his arm around her back and helping her lift herself until she was sitting up. For a few seconds, he pulled her close against his right shoulder, just enjoying holding onto her. As she leaned against him and her arms wrapped around him without a second thought, she began to close her eyes once again.
"Oh no you don't," he said, scooting back so that he could stand up. "I see you going back to sleep. Let's take our things back downstairs so we can go to sleep there, you and me. Okay?"
Pretending to pout sleepily but then grinning as she nodded, she grasped his two hands, which he'd held out to her to pull her to her feet. "Just the two of us and our sleepover buddies, Sarah and Sawyer?" she asked, trying to stand up without falling over.
"Yep, pretty much," he said, handing her the remaining flashlight before leaning over to pick up the sleeping bag and the extra pillow from the floor, then adding the pile of blankets and the pillow from the bed to the bundle he was holding.
"You want me to take anything?" she asked with a sleepy smile. She almost couldn't see him behind all of the bedding he was holding.
"No, I'm good," he said. "Just… don't let me bump into anything major. I can only sort of see where I'm going, and the dark isn't helping. I hereby put you in charge of the flashlight."
"Do we need anything else from up here?" she asked, looking around the room.
"Hmmmm… you might want an extra sweatshirt. And maybe another pair of socks each?" he suggested, trying to think what else might come in handy to keep them warm.
"Got it," she said, feeling more and more awake as she bent down to their respective bags, shining the flashlight inside hers. She had her own things and hesitated over his bag as he stood and waited for her. Again, she felt funny about going into his bag, especially when he was standing right there. "Is it okay if I…?" she started, trailing off when she saw him smiling at her in the faint light of the flashlight.
He felt a surge of affection for her once again, and he wondered how in the world he was as lucky as he was just then. "I don't have anything to hide in there, Jane, go ahead," he told her, smiling encouragingly.
Less than a minute later, Jane had "her" sweatshirt on and they had everything they needed. They headed downstairs, where Sarah and Sawyer were already setting out their things. "Hi, guys," Jane said, stifling a yawn. Sawyer's eyes were only half open, and he barely looked at her. She could have been wrong, but she thought he might have grunted something – she couldn't be sure. He just stood glaring around through half open eyes while Sarah laid down his blankets near the fireplace, off to the side closer to the TV. This left Jane and Kurt the spot where they'd been sitting in front of the fireplace but off to the left, earlier. Sawyer wasted no time, laying back down and pulling the blanket over his head.
"He's not really a good middle of the night person," Sarah whispered apologetically, pulling another blanket over him and then laying down beside him, pulling all of the blankets over herself and whispering, "Good night, guys – again."
Jane and Kurt chuckled, both mumbling good night to Sarah as Kurt set down the pile of linens so that he could set them out to maximize their warmth. The sleeping bag went down first, with the zipper side facing the hearth. He laid it out all the way open, laying the blankets from the bed down on top of the full, opened sleeping bag, so that half would be under them and half would be on top of them. After zipping the bottom and the first corner closed, he let the flap lay open and then, bending down to the floor, he motioned for her to join him.
"We already know we fit in here," he whispered when she got close enough to hear him. "Come on." She sat down on the side of the sleeping bag closer to the fireplace, where he'd directed her, handing him his extra pair of socks. They sat beside each other and each put on their extra layer of socks, their arms and shoulders brushing companionably against each other, making both of them smile. When that was done, Jane scooted down into the sleeping back and, not sure which way she should face, lay down on her back. She was on the side closer to the fire, with Kurt on her right, laying on his left side and facing her.
"Can you get the zipper?" he asked, "We don't want to lose any heat if we can avoid it." She looked up to see him leaning on his elbow and smiling down at her with an intensity that made her smile involuntarily. The zipper was down by her feet, so she sat up again and began pulling it up slowly. As she did, he smoothed the top flap down over them, making sure the blankets reached all the way across to her without getting bunched up. Even so, as she leaned back to almost lie down again when the zipper reached her middle, it suddenly got stuck on the fabric along the side. She leaned over, turning on her left side to tug at it with both hands.
"It appears to be stuck," she said, reaching for the flashlight and realizing at that moment that in order to hold the flashlight to find the problem and tug at the zipper, she needed three hands. She huffed in frustration, when suddenly she felt him leaning very close behind her.
"You're going to let me help you with that, right?" he said into her ear in a low whisper, his right arm already reaching over her right side. She wanted to be annoyed with him for being so calm, for seeming to smile at her frustration… except that she looked back over her shoulder at him and saw that he wasn't smiling at her frustration. He was smiling at her. "If you hold the flashlight for me, I'll get it unjammed, okay?" His smile was disarming, and she found her frustration melting away in seconds. Sighing, she found herself smiling at him and nodding.
"Okay," she whispered. "Thanks."
She felt his left arm snaking underneath her, and she lifted herself up slightly, propping herself up on her elbow, to make it easier for him. He leaned close in behind her, and she could tell without turning around that his face was just barely over her shoulder. For a few seconds she forgot that she was supposed to be aiming the flashlight at the zipper of the sleeping bag.
"Ready?" he asked, chuckling, once again speaking into her ear softly. She could tell that he was laughing at her for something, but couldn't figure out what. The butterflies were back in her stomach full force just then, and she turned to look at him in surprise.
"For what?" she asked, now completely confused, looking over her shoulder and finding his face very close in front of hers.
Laughing softly, he leaned his face even closer and paused for several seconds, enjoying her confusion more than he knew that he should have, before he whispered, "To hold the flashlight for me… So I can fix the zipper… please?"
She felt herself blushing perhaps her deepest shade of crimson yet, and she was thankful that he probably couldn't really see her very well in the dark.
"Oh, right… sorry," she stammered. "Geez… now who's distracting?" His arms had reached around her on both sides, and he leaned closer to her still in order to, allegedly, reach the zipper with both hands. She held the flashlight still, pointing at where the zipper was caught, looking back at him over her shoulder again and shaking her head. He looked past her to the task at hand, smiling because he could still see her in his peripheral vision, and he could see exactly the effect he was having on her. After a few more tugs, the jam was cleared, and the zipper pulled easily the rest of the way up.
She clicked off the flashlight and reached out to put it down on the hearth, as he brought the zipper all the way to the top of the sleeping bag, then slowly they both relaxed, neither of them moving back to where they'd been before the zipper jammed. Kurt simply pressed himself against her back, his right arm wrapped securely around her waist and his left elbow now anchoring him as he leaned against his left arm, propping himself up for a minute as she settled back against him. Again, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder in the dim light of the fire, and he smiled at her intensely. This time, however, she didn't look away – she couldn't look away – she just smiled right back at him.
It occurred to her then that just maybe, she didn't have to keep feeling like the bottom was falling out of her stomach when he looked at her like that, that maybe she didn't have to imagine how much it would hurt to lose him all over again. That just maybe, it wasn't going to happen. This was a powerful thought for her to have, and as scary as it was, the evidence was staring her in the face. Literally.
They'd tucked themselves as far inside the sleeping bag as possible, so that it came up to around their chins. "Are you warm enough?" he whispered, tucking his arm behind the pillow that they were once again sharing and leaning his forehead against the back of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.
He'd told her to set the other pillow against the somewhat sharp corner of the brick hearth in case she bumped it in her sleep, so it sat in front of her. Of course, he had no intention of letting her move that far away from him, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
"Mmmhhmmm…" she sighed tiredly, now slipping back into semi-consciousness once again. "You make a good furnace."
When he chuckled, she could feel the rumble in his chest in hers as well, and it just warmed her further.
"Good night, Jane," he whispered. He was surprised when she turned so that she was almost laying on her back, looking up into his eyes without blinking or looking away. Without even thinking about it, he leaned down and kissed her softly, just once, then leaned back enough to look at her, barely able to see the look of delight on her face in the firelight.
"Good night," she whispered, not taking her eyes off of him. Their eyes remained locked on each other for another minute before she reluctantly turned back on her side as he snuggled just as close behind her as he had been a few minutes before. She put her right hand over his where it had come to rest in front of her as he'd tugged her closer, and she held onto it tightly, as if there was suddenly some danger that he would try to let go.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, fat flakes covering everything with a thick new blanket of white, the wind whipping the snow every direction at once.
Kurt heard her breathing change only seconds later, signaling to him that she had fallen asleep, and he had to smile to himself. No, it didn't look like they'd be leaving in the morning. Instead, it appeared that they'd be stuck in this house so overwhelmingly full of his past for at least another day.
But it could be worse, he told himself. After all, he was originally supposed to have been here with only Sarah and Sawyer. After the day they'd had, he couldn't even conceive of how he would've gotten through that day without Jane – she was the only thing that had held him together.
He leaned forward ever so slightly to kiss the back of her head. "Thank you," he whispered, so quietly that she probably wouldn't have heard him even if she had still been awake. Another minute later, his eyes were closed and he had fallen asleep as well.