Good Morning

In These Quiet Moments

The two of them, together, are an awful lot like a summer storm. The electricity is a static thrill, the rain a refreshing cool, the wind a gust of fresh air. And Jay thinks it would be kind of nice, actually, to spend the rest of his life getting soaked to the skin, and laughing.

He doesn't realize how badly he wants it until the first time she slips her hand into his and doesn't let go.

They do kiss, a lot. They kiss a lot and it is fantastic and everything else that they want to do is fantastic, too. It is also awkward and fumbly and embarrassing and kind of hard to get used to, and they're not always great at it, and it's not all it's cracked up to be. It's not like the movies.

It's so much better.

They don't do a lot of cuddling, though, which Jay finds really, really weird. When he was a kid, he cuddled his mom every night; when his dad had been gone, he would have had to sell a kidney before he gave that up. His parents have always been the type to hug and hold hands and kiss each other's cheeks and sit on the same side of the booth, and he grew up in a world where those sorts of things were commonplace.

But Nya, is like a wary cat, and he is a man who wants to hold her hand in a crowded room. He's a man who would like, just once, to walk home with her and link their arms and sway together like they're dancing, but they're never that close, out in the open. They're never even close enough to touch.

And that's what makes the kisses, and the cuddles, and the hand-holding, and everything else, so important.

He knows, deep down, that her reticence to display any public affection isn't because she's ashamed of him. In the darkest parts of him, the parts he'd rather ignore, he can't help but wonder if it's because she doesn't like him that much, or if she's embarrassed, or if she's just not that kind of girl, but, logically, he knows that none of that is true. It's just her, and her nature, and her history. It's not him, not specifically.

So when he holds her hand, and he kisses her, and he's always careful not to get too close.

She's not ashamed, not embarrassed, and she is that kind of girl, it's just – the kind of girl she is has had her heart broken once before, and she doesn't think she can afford a second time. Not when it comes to Jay, and especially not when it comes to love.

So she keeps him at a calculated distance, and subconsciously, he seems to understand, even if he doesn't like it. She can tell that he wants something more, but he never pushes her for it.

He respects her boundaries, and he lets her be.

***

They didn't mean to fall asleep together or the couch, but the movie was so long and Jay was so warm and Nya was so sleepy, and it was late.

When she wakes up, Jay is still out cold, and she's lying with her cheek pressed against his stomach, one arm folded awkwardly under her head.

It's dark, and quiet, and Jay's breaths are slow and deep and comforting. The only light is the glow of the TV screen, and Nya has to squint against the blue light to make out the titles of the DVD menu. She reaches out, fumbles for the remote, and hits the power button.

For a few moments, the only sound is the gentle whirring of the electronics and Jay's breaths. Nya shifts her head a little, turning her ear to the left and feeling the thrum of his heart.

He snores. Not loudly, but it's just a faint wheeze, high and nasally and a little funny.

He has a birthmark, just beneath his collarbone, and it's kind of shaped like a lightning bolt. His heartbeat is strong, and his belly is firm but comfortable. She's curled up against him, and his fingers are still laced in her hair.

The room is still, and Nya realizes that she's never felt so safe in her life.

Her eyes are drooping, and her breathing has synched up with his, and the room is a little cold, so she snuggles closer to him to absorb his warmth.

His eyelids flutter a little, and his lips twitch. His thumb strokes her cheek, and she feels the rumble of his voice in his chest.

"Hey," he says, his voice husky with sleep, "We fell asleep."

"No shit, Sherlock," she whispers back.

"Sorry," he murmurs.

"Nah," she replies. "S'okay."

She nuzzles her face into the dip between his collarbone and the top of his ribs. Her arm is going numb, but she can't find the willpower to move it.

"Hey," she says after a while, and Jay hums drowsily in response. "Do you ever feel like this isn't real? Like, it's all just a dream, or something?"

"Uh," he replies. "Kind of. But I've also had some pretty crazy nightmares."

"No, I mean, like - not like that. I just... I feel like I'm gonna wake up tomorrow, and you're gonna be gone, and I'll be right back where I started."

Jay's fingers curl in her hair. "Where's that?"

"I dunno. Lonely, I guess."

"Why lonely?"

She shrugs. "Just... Always been that way, I guess."

He's quiet for a minute. She hears the soft crackle of the fabric of his shirt as his fingers play with the strands of her hair.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispers after a moment.

"What?"

"I'm not leaving. You won't wake up alone. You'll have me, and the guys, Master Wu, and my parents, and you'll be okay."

She lifts her head and looks up at him. "What are you, psychic?"

"Nah," he replies. "You've got a tell."

"A what?"

"A tell. It's like a poker tell. You scrunch up your face when you're sad."

She blinks. "I do not."

"Yeah, you do." He chuckles, and she can feel it in her bones.

"That's not a thing," she grumbles, laying her head back down on his chest.

"I'll bet you anything."

"No, you won't," she retorts, "Because you're not a betting man."

"Touché."

She closes her eyes and exhales slowly.

"Are you real?" she asks.

"Uh-huh."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," she says, and he wraps his arm around her shoulder.

"Go back to sleep," he says. "I'll be here."

"Okay," she says. "G'night, Jay."

"Goodnight, Nya."

It's the first night in a long time that she doesn't have any bad dreams.