Delirium

Chapter 26 - Religion

a/n oop.. so this has been a longer break than i expected. i'm sorry!

i had some complications during recovery but i'm all good now. then my landlords offered to let me move out early, so i did that too. so, as you can imagine, life has just been very, very busy. but here we are with another double update!!! i hope you all enjoy these chapters :)

~*~

His bed felt cosier than usual.

The blanket was a pure, enveloping comfort, the pillows luxurious clouds.

Everything was warm.

So warm.

All George knew, in the small expanse of his current and partial consciousness, was this comfort and warmth.

Not daring to open his eyes just yet, he shifted to pull the blanket tighter around him. The movement made him aware of exactly why everything felt so welcomingly different.

Because, as he turned, his arm brushed against a very real, very warm figure lying next to him, making him remember the events of the night before.

Jolie was in his bed. She had spent the night.

The overwhelming feeling of reassuring, serene security washed over him as he recalled their conversation the night before.

She loved him; so much so that she'd been defending him to Jacques as far back as July.

She forgave him for never writing back to her. Loved him after all they'd been through.

He wrapped his arm around her middle, tugging her close, her back flush against his chest. She sighed sweetly, shifting all but closer to him.

He was even warmer now.

Content.

Wanting to maintain the dreamlike state of being he was in, George didn't dare make a noise as he lifted his head and gazed at her through sleep-hazed eyes, taking in each of her features.

An angel in his bed. Still fast asleep.

Her blonde hair was tangled at the ends, the rest fanning across his pillow. Her cheeks were pink and glowing, clearly feeling the same warmth he felt. Her full lips were pouted slightly as her face pressed against the pillow. Her long lashes fluttered beneath closed lids.

He wondered what she might be dreaming about.

As if on cue, she let out a quiet, sleepy hum of contentment. Whatever her dream was, it must be good.

A grin pulled at his lips when he noticed the blanket, the very one that he'd sought after as he woke, was wrapped around her legs, keeping most of it to herself.

As he listened to her breathing, felt her shoulder blades softly expand and contract against his chest, George finally took in his surroundings. Or, at least, all he could see with his bed hangings still closed.

He found his bed still bathed in darkness, the sunrise still yet to peak over the horizon. It was well and dark enough to go back to sleep if he wanted, the minimal moonlight leaving his crimson sheets to appear as a deep maroon.

He let his head rest against the pillow once more, shutting his eyes. But the movement caused the subtle bite of a headache to creep in, throbbing harshly from his temples all the way to the back of his neck.

A bloody hangover.

He supposed it shouldn't be all that surprising. Suffice to say, George would never be playing Truth or Dare again.