She was half-asleep, staring heavy-lidded at the boy next to her, only seeing the dim glow of the whites of his eyes in the night's darkness. She reached out under the sheet to find his hands, lacing their fingers together.

"Hello," he whispered, giving her a shy smile.

"Hello," she smiled back.

He gave her a peck on the lips, "We're disgustingly sweet."

"Absolutely," she squeezed his hands and held her lips to his, "sickening."

She tilted her forehead to rest against his, her nose pressed along his. This was the first time they would be sleeping in the same bed in quite a long time, and she couldn't stop smiling. She felt more than dumb, but that was all she wanted to do: hold his hands and sleep.

Getting back from the airport and making a fort and cooking dinner and doing what seemed like a billion other things seemed to drain her.

"Is there anything you want, love?" he whispered in her ear.

"You. Right here in bed with me, where you belong. Not thousands of miles away where I can't even hold your hands."

He kissed her gently, letting go of one of her hands to ruffle her hair, "Positively, horrifyingly, disgustingly sweet."

"And you love it," she grinned.

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