She didn't wake when I scooped her up off the couch, after she fell asleep on me during the movie. We put it on when the three of us finally got tired of playing video games, sometime around midnight.

She didn't wake when I plopped her on my bed like a sack of potatoes. On my side of the bed, because go figure, her bra was sprawled across her usual side and I didn't have an extra hand. Which is ridiculous anyway, because the entire thing is my bed—since when do I only have a side?

She did, however, wake when I began to tuck her in. Only a little though, enough to mumble a single word: "Pants."

Wut.

I had just slid out of my own clothes, so could she be referring to my lack of pants?

"Pants? Mine or yours?" I try to clarify.

"Mine. Off."

I can barely make the whisper out, but I'm about 90% sure that's what I heard. I glance down at her leggings and then it clicks. She always just sleeps in a shirt, so she wants her pants off.

And, of course, she wants me to do it.

"Fine," I concede with a heavy sigh. I shift onto my knee near her hip and slide my hands under the hem of her shirt so I can grip the waistband and pull them down.

"You gotta lift up a little so I can get them over your butt."

Stupid, skin-tight leggings. I thought they looked amazing on her, but taking them off her is a whole new story.

Especially as she does what I asked, seemingly using the last little ounce of her energy to lift up so they glide down over her hips. My shirt is big enough on her to cover the upper portion of her thighs, so at least that's one miracle, because if it didn't I'd be getting an eyeful.

I mean, I'm still getting a full view as they slide over her shapely legs, I'm just really trying not to think about it.

Immediately, I regret glancing up at her. Her sleepy eyelids are open to the littlest slits as she observes my work. She watches my hands pull the material over her calves and ankles, then free each foot one at a time. When her eyes track slowly up my arms, over my bare chest, and finally flick to meet my eyes, I'm quite aware of how the whole situation probably looks from her perspective.

So yeah, I understand the way she's watching me like eye candy. I also understand that's not what's happening here.

I tap on her foot a few times before getting up to grab the covers. "Anything else I can do for you, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Hmm... Underwear too?"

I huff and pull the comforter all the way up over her entire head. "Nice try."

She pulls it back down to reveal her face before closing her eyes again, letting out a content little groan and snuggling down in.

I don't waste much time turning the lamp off and climbing over top of her. I get myself under the covers, laying down on my back to stare into the dark.

She turns towards me, asking softly, "Did Niles leave?"

"No, he's on the couch. He drank about double what I did so I hid his keys. Not sure if it was enough for a hangover tomorrow, but I'm sure he'll be fine. I wouldn't worry about it. Go back to sleep."

"Mmkay, thanks Quince. Love you. G' Night."

It all comes out in one long breath, as she reaches over and slings her arm across my stomach. She doesn't move any closer, leaving a small gap between us, so I just close my tired eyes.

"Goodnight Rose, I love you too."

My sleep is pitiful that night. Any which way I tossed or turned just wasn't comfortable. Too hot, too cold; need to stretch out, need to curl up. Usually, any alcohol before bed makes me crash, but apparently not tonight. I have a suspicion it had to do with the heavy, looming feeling in the back of my mind called anxiety.

That and the short, vivid dreams that cycled every time I woke throughout the night. Some prayed on my nagging worries, while others felt like omens of the future.

A few, though, were good. They felt like a thawing spring day: warm like sunshine and refreshing like a cool breeze. I remember the heady taste of success and a pat on the back. I remember a tingling caress and a beautiful smile. I clung to those sensations, though they were fleeting and overshadowed.

However, as dreams tend to do, the details of them all elude me as soon as my eyes open to find harsh daylight. It glares through my window shade, which is my own fault for leaving them open a crack since I usually enjoy the sunlight naturally waking me.

Not today, Satan, not today.

I bury my face back into the pillow and blindly reach a hand out next to me, as I often did during the night. It's become a habit really, anytime I can't fall asleep or have nightmares. The latter doesn't happen often anymore, but I was a scaredy-cat as a kid, and even now my invading thoughts can get the best of me at times.

Finding only air, I have to remind myself again that we swapped sides. As if the sweet-smelling pillowcase under me wasn't enough of a reminder. I flop my other arm out instead, but meet only a cold, empty sheet.

With a groan, I lift my head off the pillow where I was planted facedown. Sure enough, I'm alone. But my trusty nose picks up another clue.

I smell bacon.

Enticed by my growling stomach, I begrudgingly slide out of bed and to the bathroom, where I do a double take on the bags under my eyes. Definitely going to be taking a nap later.

Stepping into the hallway, a pleasant mingling of music with the background of sizzling reaches my ears. The song is familiar, one of Rory's favorites, and it seems way too upbeat for such a morning.

♫  Oh, baby, when you talk like that
You make a woman go mad
So be wise (sí) and keep on (sí)
Reading the signs of my body  ♫

I'll admit, Shakira's quick beat is kind of energizing. Regardless, as soon as I turn the corner my whole negative-vibe-train comes to a screeching halt.

Rory stands at the stove in my shirt, swishing her hips to the sound. There's a spatula gripped in her hand as she tends to something in a pan. Long hair a wavy mess down her back, it sways in time with her sinuous movements.

♫  I'm on tonight
You know my hips don't lie
And I'm starting to feel it's right ♫

I pad silently to the island behind her, pausing there a moment to admire the way her bare calves and thighs flex with a particular move.

After another stir on the stove, she shuffles into a little spin just as I'm rounding the counter. A wide smile breaks out on her face when she sees me, not showing an ounce of embarrassment for getting caught dancing. Of course not, she loves it way too much. She finishes through the turn and faces me again with another shimmy.

That's the smile. The one that feels like déjà vu from my dream. So unfair. And so infectious.

Bad vibes forgot, I don't hesitate to take her hand when she offers it, pulling me towards her. My other hand finds her shifting hip as hers finds my shoulder and she guides me into the beat.

I'm not exactly a good dancer by any means, but I've had enough practice between nightlife dance floors and visiting her at the studio, to not look like a flopping fish. She never lets me observe from the sidelines for very long before dragging me into the action.

I let her take the lead, as usual, pushing and pulling my shoulder as she moves our locked hands. She throws her head back to laugh after I nearly trip over my own foot. But I recover just as the song winds down and, feeling a little overcome in the moment, I even dare to dip her—successfully, if only for my arm tightened around her waist and her quick thinking to slide a stabilizing foot under herself.

She pops back up in front of me as the last few notes play, and I close the small gap between us to plant a peck on her temple. I'm given another heart-stopping smile, but as quick as it comes, it's replaced with shock.

"Shit, the eggs!" She cries, causing us both to bust out laughing, but she manages to tend them between our outbursts.

As soon as she turns from me, I plant the front of my hips firmly against the counter next to us. I'm a little lightheaded, my heart still hammering in glee and something a little darker.

She glances sidelong at me, at my weird movement probably. Conveniently enough, the coffee maker is right here, so I fumble with that as if was my plan all along and manage to calmly comment, "Well, good morning to you too. Someone looks like they slept well."

She snorts. "It's not you. You look like shit."

"Thank you. So kind."

"Couldn't sleep?" The teasing is gone from her voice, but her tone is still light. She knows I have trouble sleeping sometimes, so this is nothing new.

"Yeah, wasn't exactly the best." I point to my empty coffee mug after I start the brewing cycle. "But I'll be fine after a good cup o' joe. And I'm already a little better thanks to you."

She playfully knocks her hip into mine when she moves closer to remove some bacon from the other pan.

"Niles left just a little bit ago, by the way. I fished his keys out from the usual spot before he got up. I guess that weird vase-jar-thing your mom got you is useful for something, at least."

The coffee finishes dripping, so I reach for the sugar and dump a few spoonfuls in. Rory hands over the creamer to me. I love a good dark roast, but I need about equal parts cream and sugar to actual coffee. She's more of a tea drinker when she wants the caffeine but I can see her cup of orange juice on the other counter, so I don't bother asking if she wants one.

Deeming it safe, no semi in sight, I turn around and lean my butt against the counter to take a glorious sip.

She still mindlessly shakes her hips to another song as she places some bread down to toast.

"Hey, Rose?"

"Hmm?" When she glances over, her eyes flick up and down over me before narrowing to slits. "Your boner's gone but you still look suspicious over there. Why?"

Shit. I look at her over the top of my mug. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," I feign, taking another tiny sip. 

She waves the spatula at me. "If you think I didn't notice, or wasn't going to call you out on it, then you don't know me very well at all, young man. Your embarrassment fuels my ego. I live off that shit."

"And here I was, about to be nice to you."

She purses her lips. "Fine. Here." She reaches to her other side and grabs a single piece of bacon off a plate. "Is this the other thing you were acting all suspicious about? Peace offering. Spill it, what nice things were you going to say?"

The bacon is melt-in-my-mouth heavenly. I may have moaned. I don't even care, because it just makes her cackle.

Once I munch through about half of it, I finally comment, "I was going to say that you know I'd do anything for you, right?"

She pauses and turns to me again slowly. "I mean, yeah, sure. I'd do anything for you too. That's just... an oddly vague and random question. Do you happen to be extra touchy-feely this morning or was there something that brought it on?"

"Both, I guess. I was thinking about our conversation last night—"

"Which one? About us fucking or my being grumpy? 'Cause I remembered I'm ovulating, so that tracks, actually."

"Uh, a little of both, again. And seeing—"

"Both? Really, that's an interesting combination."

"Rory."

"Hmm?"

"Maybe if you stop interrupting, I'll get to the point."

Her little, innocent smile is enough to make me chuckle.

She doesn't say anything this time, just flips her free hand in a "carry-on" motion.

"It also has to do with seeing you this morning, like this." I swish my own hand roughly in her direction, but her single brow raise has me explaining, "Carefree and just... yourself. I like seeing you happy, so if there's ever anything I can do to help with that, know that I'll do it in a heartbeat."

She leans on a hip, just as I set my coffee cup down. Her bright green eyes are locked on mine as I begin to scoot closer to her along the counter.

"Just to clarify," she says once I'm directly in front of her. She doesn't even so much as move as I lean toward her. "Anything?"

"Yep." I pop the p in her ear as I continue leaning past her. When I pull back, her eyes track my movement just inches from her. And when I bring the piece of bacon I just snatched from behind her up to my mouth, she follows that movement too, a tight-lipped grin breaking out on her face.

Was it a sneaky move? Yes. Was I also trying to maybe hint at a deeper meaning and see how she'd react to it? Hell yes.

I scarf down my victory with a smirk.

She looks up to the ceiling, unable to even look at me without laughing. "You spoil me way too much."

"Probably." I lean back against the counter again and nod. "Definitely."

She rolls her eyes with a huff, that damned infectious smile planted firmly, mocking me. And then she's the one leaning towards me, both of her hands reaching up to smoosh my cheeks between them. In one quick motion, she's up on her tippy toes, landing a small kiss right on my lips.

Other than it obviously being on my mouth—which is new—the whole thing doesn't feel much different than any of the little pecks we've given each other on the cheek or forehead. That's actually what I thought she was going in for until the last second, which is why I didn't even so much as blink.

She pulls back and nonchalantly turns to take the last of the food off the stove. If it weren't for the knowing glint in her eye and the stupid way she bites her lip, I'd think nothing of it.

After mentally composing myself, I manage to calmly ask, "And what was that for?"

She shrugs. "Just saying thank you for the reminder, and... because I can."

"Uh huh, 'saying' thank you? How many times have I told you that you have a mouth and you should—"

"I did use my mouth, Q."

Her smile is wicked this time, just daring me to say something. But she's right. Plus, as she said: she can. I literally just gave her permission. Maybe not in those terms but, she has a valid point.

I take a deep breath, shaking my head.

"I've created a monster," I comment, picking up my coffee to take a sip. As I shove off the counter I move behind her, laying a hand on her back to warn her I'm there. Considering our lack of clothing, the last thing we need is for her to step back and knock my steaming coffee onto one of us.

"Are you about done? Can I move some of the food over?"

She swivels her head to me and nods. "Yeah, thanks."

Her eyes don't leave me right away. Instead, they drop to my lips and then down to my coffee mug next to her.

"You taste like coffee and bacon."