No one has to know

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

You should see the things we do, baby (mmm)

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

I know I'm gonna be with you

So I'll take my time

Are you ready for it?

- ….Ready For It? / Reputation Era

She pulled the teal sweatshirt over her head and folded it in half, laying it over the arm of the chair next to her bed. Waking up next to Tony had been jarring, to say the least, but it hadn't been entirely unpleasant. Now that things with Bobbi Barnes had been handled, Angela could finally take the time to fully process everything that had happened. She pulled the pink polo off and set it over the sweatshirt. Her fingers traced along the edge of her white lace bra. After they'd watched the broadcast, when she'd pushed for them to talk, he'd asked her if she'd dreamt anything. She'd been emphatic with her answer. He'd done the same and she'd let it go. However, in the quiet privacy of her room, she couldn't lie to herself anymore. That night, sleeping next to him, she'd had a vivid dream. There was no denying that she felt uncomfortable on some level admitting that she'd had a dream that had been verging into explicit territory while sleeping in Samantha's bed.

As she finished changing into her nightgown, she settled into her bed, sliding between the soft floral sheets. She glanced at her bedroom door and closed her teeth over the corner of her lip. She hadn't taken her own pleasure into her hands in months. She hadn't had the need to, but waking up next to Tony had left her on edge. She'd been unable to shake the shadowy visuals of the dream she'd had in Samantha's bed. The bits and pieces she kept envisioning were disjointed and flickering in her mind like an old silent reel to reel movie. Visions of her snuggling back into open, waiting arms, of his lips leaving a hot, wet trail of kisses along her skin, had her sighing and suppressing a shiver as she licked her lips and closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed, growing shallow as she traced her fingertips along her neck. She licked her lips as she shifted in her bed, her skin feeling heated from the inside out as memories of the dream filled her mind; her hand sliding into his hair, fisting in the dark locks. Her breath caught in her throat as she thought she heard a throaty sigh of her name in voice fill the space around her. Her eyes blinked open as she sat up and rested her hand on her chest. "Oh my God." Her voice was a soft whisper as she felt her skin rise in gooseflesh.

She'd had sexual dreams before but never before had she been able to recall sounds. She pushed her fingers through her hair and pulled her knees to her chest. She didn't know what it meant, but she couldn't shake the sound of him sighing her name. It kept reverberating in her mind, replaying on a loop, and making her slick in her most intimate of places. Her heartbeat was pounding in her chest as she looked to her bedroom door. She couldn't stop herself from wondering if something had in fact happened in Samantha's bed.

She shook her head and climbed out of bed, her mouth dry and feeling like it was full of cotton. She pulled her robe over the teal nightgown, the very one she'd been wearing when she'd woken up next to him, and headed down to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and grabbed an ice cube, taking the time to let the cold air from the freezer wash over her. She squirmed as she took a long sip of her water. She swallowed hard and rolled her lips into her mouth.

She turned the lights off in the kitchen and carried her glass of water upstairs, pausing at the top of the stairs and glanced at his bedroom door. They'd already talked about it, and she didn't know what good it would do to talk to him about it again, but instead of going back to her bedroom and making herself find release at her own hand, she headed back to his door and knocked softly. This is ridiculous. She turned to head for her room but was stopped as the door slowly opened to reveal a shirtless Tony with his brown sweatpants slung low on his hips. Her eyes took their time tracing down, down, down his torso to his hips then back up.

"Sam, I don't care if you're having a bad dream. You're staying in your own bed tonight. Read a book or something." He croaked as he braced his arm on the doorframe of his bedroom and rested his forehead against his forearm.

"Still confusing my lump with Samantha's, huh?" She smirked as she lifted an elegant eyebrow at him.

He jolted at the sound of her voice and scrubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes. "Oh. It's you. I'm sorry, Angela. You okay?"

She shook her head and chuckled softly. Waking him had been a bad idea. "Never mind, Tony. Go back to bed. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"No, no. What do you need?" His hand gently gripped her elbow, stopping her from backing away as he took a step toward her. His eyebrows knit together as he looked her over.

"I don't know." She shrugged and rested her other hand on the bottom of the cold glass of ice water. "I guess I'm just… I can't shake this dream I had." Her eyes dropped to the floor between their bare feet. She couldn't meet his eyes. Not in that moment, when the mental visual of his lips on her neck was still replaying in vivid technicolor.

"Oh yeah? You wanna talk about it? I can make us some tea?"

Her neck flushed in shame as she lifted her eyes to meet his then looked away just as quickly. She shook her head as she cleared her throat then let out a soft, strangled laugh. "Not… Particularly." Her voice faltered as she tugged her robe closed tighter around her. It didn't matter in that moment that they'd been living together with their children and her mother for over 6 months and that he had become one of her closest friends. All she could think of, all that seemed to linger in her consciousness, was the desire to see if it had been a dream. She wondered what he would do if she stepped closer to him and threaded her fingers into his hair. Would he stop her or would he allow her to fall into his arms, into his bed with him?

She audibly gulped as she lifted her dilated eyes to him. Realizing she'd been developing feelings for him after Michael had returned had been startling enough. She'd never anticipated feeling this desire awakening in her, urging her to stop looking at him as her friend and driving her to look at him as a man. For what felt like the first time, she really took in every detail of him. It was almost as if his genetics had built him to be a woman's fantasy; his muscular build, his powerful hands that were long-fingered and strong but still gentle. She brought her fingertips to her lips, covered her mouth as she took a shaky breath and stepped back from him.

His eyes followed her movements, cataloging each and every detail. As she stepped away, he caught sight of the pretty pink rosiness that was tinting the skin of her upper chest and neck. His eyebrows slowly lifted as the corner of his lips tilted up. Realization washed over him as he released her elbow and let her move further away.

"Aye, oh." He chuckled softly and took a step back to lean against his door frame and grinned smugly. "That kind of dream, huh?" She shrugged with one shoulder and glanced around the hallway, desperately seeking something that she could use to deflect attention away from her. "Was it about me?" He watched as she froze, even ceasing to breathe for a moment, as the already soft flush on her neck, rose to her cheeks and forehead and began to deepen into shades of red. She took another slow sip of her water then lowered it again, avoiding the question. He scrubbed his hands on his sweatpants, covertly adjusting them on his form. He'd never really expected this from her. It was one thing for him to fantasize about her, and he had plenty of times. He could still picture her stepping out of the tub with her slicked skin and it had fueled more than one dream that had left him uncomfortably hard and wanting. The fact that she wasn't denying that it was mutual? That was like adding gasoline to an already simmering fire. He lowered his voice, "Was it at least good? Come on, Angela. Spill. I'd tell you."

"Like hell you would." Her voice dropped to a deep, low timbre, one that he didn't hear often, certainly not directed toward him. Her lips pursed as she teased him, releasing her tightened grip on her robe as the seemed to be heading back into the safer territory of their casual banter and flirting.

He lifted his hands, a sign of surrender, as he dragged his eyes over her then back into his bedroom. He nodded his head. "Okay, fine. Maybe I wouldn't."

There was a long, pregnant pause between them. The air was thick with tension. Both adults lost in their own thoughts. Indecision and an endless list of 'what-ifs' hung in the air around them, almost daring the two of them to choose wildly. The sound of ice cubes settling in her glass broke through the charged silence, and she took a deep gasp of air, almost as if she was coming out from under water. She toyed with the necklace that rested against her clavicle nervously. "It just… it seemed very real."

"Aye, those are the best kind." His voice was quiet, but throaty.

Her eyes lifted to him as she opened her mouth to speak but stopped, her lips tilting up into a knowing grin. He wasn't wrong. Those were the best kind of erotic dreams, but something about this one felt different. She licked her lips and took a step toward him, speaking in an almost whisper. "Tony, I'm serious. Are we sure that nothing happened last night?"

Tony shook his head. "Aye oh. We talked about this. I stayed on my side of the bed and you stayed on yours."

She frowned but nodded. They had said that and if that was the story he wanted to stick with, she supposed that she could respect that. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I know you're right. I'm just… I should go back to bed. Goodnight, Tony."

He watched her back away and head for her bedroom. Her murmured his own reply to her as she closed the door behind her and left him lingering in the space of his doorway, He had wanted to say something, anything, to make her feel better about the whole thing, to make it less awkward for the two of them. The simple fact was that there was nothing he could say. It had felt good to wake up next to her. He hadn't felt that comfortable in a bed with a woman in years. It all didn't help that he hadn't been completely honest with her though. He'd entered the bedroom that night thinking that it had been Samantha curled up under the covers, but by the time he'd crawled into the bed, he'd spotted a familiar tuft of golden hair at the top of the blankets. He'd known it was her and he'd chosen to stay. Sleep had reclaimed him almost as soon as he had settled under the comforter, but when he'd felt satin press against his side, he'd blinked his eyes open and had been greeted by the sight of the adorably curled up woman at his side. It had been risky as hell and he'd hoped that Sam's alarm going off would give him enough time to slip away without damaging their friendship. He couldn't help himself though. He'd allowed her to stay close, assuming she was drawn to his body heat under the covers and he wouldn't have forgiven himself if he allowed her to freeze. He'd drifted back to sleep after that and he had genuinely hoped that it had ended there.

He stepped back into his bedroom and closed the door. He was sure that nothing had happened, though he was comforted to know that Angela had dreamt of something happening. She hadn't been the only one. Admittedly, he'd been dreaming of her more and more since he'd returned to the house at Michael's insistence. He laid down on top of the blankets on his bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he folded one hand under his head, the other resting on his chest as he thought about the blonde only a few short feet away.

He could still smell the scent of her body lotion on the smooth skin of her arm. He'd been close to her before, but waking up to her touch, and her scent, and her husky voice had been almost too intimate. His eyes slipped shut, his breathing growing slow as he started to slip back to sleep. His dream started to come back to him and he grunted softly as his hips gave a shallow thrust off the mattress as he pictured her tilting her head to the side further, giving him better access to her ivory skin, allowing him to kiss and nip each newly exposed inch. He imagined spooning up against her from behind, his large hand spanning across her abdomen as she whispered his name and tightened her hand in his hair.

His hand slipped lower down his torso over his pants and rested over his growing arousal. He fantasized about her biting her lip to stay quiet as his fingertips brushed against her breasts. He groaned to himself and blinked his eyes open. No, he didn't think anything had happened, but that didn't stop him from wishing that something had. He removed his hand from the fabric covering the hardening length between his legs and sat up on the edge of the bed. He glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers on the clock mocked him, glowing 1:30 AM bright in the dark. It was still too early to go down and start breakfast, and still too late to do anything other than lay here.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking about Angela. She'd all but confessed that she had had a dream about him. With any other woman, he would've knocked on her bedroom door and would've let fate take over from there; but a woman like Angela Bower deserved more than that. He began to run every baseball statistic he had ever memorized in his head. He was going to do whatever he could to abate his evident arousal.

So come on, give me a taste

Of what it's like to be next to you

Won't let one drop go to waste

Your metaphorical gin and juice

- Hands to Myself / Cover

I was thinking 'bout her, thinking 'bout me

Thinking 'bout us, what we gon' be

Open my eyes, yeah, it was only just a dream

- Just A Dream / Cover