My heart practically leapt seeing Conan asleep in my bed for the first time. His breathing was slow, his bruised face relaxed, his mouth slightly parted. He looked... peaceful. And beautiful, even with the gauze still lining the edge of his temple and the faint swelling around his eye.
He had gone to the couch, like always, all stubborn and brooding. But once he was out cold, I couldn't help myself. I picked him up and laid him beside me. Just once.
I didn't even touch him beyond that.
I just held him. All night. And it was the best sleep I'd had in my entire life.
He usually vanished before I woke up, but now—seeing him like this—like a real mate sleeping in our bed? It was perfect.
Maybe he'd wake up and... I don't know... thank me. Or smile. Or even kiss me. I mean, a thank-you kiss wasn't that wild, right? I did find his stupid bike. It's not like I was asking for much.
"Mmm..." he stirred, blinking up at me.
And then he bolted upright.
