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Garrett was having probably the best sleep of his entire life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this content, sleep-warmed and toasty and comfortable and peaceful, and…
There’s something. A noise, maybe? He groaned and shoved his head further into his pillow. The noise stopped, and he murmured contentedly, rubbing his cheek sleepily against the fabric under his head, soft against his skin, and went back to sleep.
The noise, again. A trilling sort of bothersome thing, buzzing at the periphery of his dreams.
“Go ‘way.” He muttered, and went to swat at the annoying thing, only to discover his hand was trapped. “St’pid hand.” He mumbled again, not trying to retrieve it, and turned his head away from the sound, grumbling low in his chest, irritated at being woken. The trill stopped again, and he sighed, satisfied at the silence washing over the room. He moved his cheek against his pillow, again, enjoying the sensation, briefly touched by a wash of déjà vu when it seemed to rock underneath his head.
He brushed this aside because pillows did not move, and he was hovering on the edge of that slow, sepia place between waking and not, and he was feeling rather in favour of not, right now. He closed his eyes tighter, denying that he had registered the light on the other side of them, and turned his head even further into his pillow, making a noise in the back of his throat that he would swear to his dying breath was not petulant. His own breath curled back towards his mouth, reflected by his pillow, warm and moist on his chin.
His pillow twitched.
“Tickles.” It told him, low and melodic.
“Pillows don’t get tickled.” He said firmly and pressed his nose into the nice little hollow between his pillow’s collarbones, which was funny, because pillows didn’t have collarbones either.
“This one does.” His pillow sounded amused, and honestly this dream was pretty great, because his pillow was soft and warm and funny all at once, telling him he was tickling it.
“Pillows don’t talk, either.” He mumbled. “This is a weird dream, pillow.”
The pillow heaved and shook under him, and this time, he opened his eyes, annoyed at the movement that was shaking his head.
Realisation dawned slowly, far too slowly, on him as he squinted at Hannah’s collarbones, then Hannah’s face, laughing under his weight.
“Wellsy?” He asked, confused. And then again, aghast at his unconscious self’s lack of boundaries, even as he remembered being told: “Please warm me up”. “Wellsy?”
“Good morning, Aurora. Pink or blue, today?” Hannah said cheerfully, grinning at him. His brain spun at the fresh knowledge that he’d been using her chest as a headrest, heart rate climbing with the idea that he’d encroached on her space.
“What?” He said, face scrunched and frankly, still not actually awake enough for anything that was happening.
“Sleeping Beauty?” Hannah laughed at him, and with the hand not between his shoulder blades, and God, wasn’t that news to him, pushed his hair out of his face to try and catch his eye.
“Will you accept sleepwalking as a reason for this?” He groaned, resisting the temptation to hide his face in her decolletage again, and then, deciding he was already fucked, doing it anyway. “I’m asleep, see?” He told her collarbones. “This is all a dream.” His forehead rested lightly against her throat, and he could feel the vibration of her voice as she replied to him.
“Aw, sleepyhead.” Her hand smoothed between his shoulders, and he briefly went lax, before realising it and stiffening awkwardly. “It’s okay, Garrett. This is nice, isn’t it?”
Nice. That was an understatement. Possibly of the century.
“Yeah.” He said, trying to ignore his cheeks heating. And he’d teased her for blushing. “S’nice, Wellsy.”
“So there’s no reason to stop, is there?” Hannah said, something in her voice he couldn’t identify.
“Hannah.” He said, still to her collarbones, and then realised his chin was brushing her breasts as he spoke. Not good for his sanity, this girl, he decided.
“Garrett.” She mimicked. “Seriously, though.”
“You want to cuddle with me.” His head shot up, now, barely avoiding headbutting her, voice full of wonder as the realisation dawned, sluggish though he may be at this hour.
“Hey now, hockey man, where’s the natural grace and athleticism I’ve heard so much about?” Hannah laughed good-naturedly, entirely ignoring him.
“Wellsy.” Garrett said, grinning. Lose a battle, win the war. He was going to get her to admit it, as soon as he figured out where his hands were. He wiggled his fingers. Oh, there’s one hand, under her back, mild pins and needles stabbing at his fingertips. “You want to cuddle.”
Hannah met his gaze.
He hadn’t expected that, for some reason. He tried to move the fingers of his other hand. Where the hell was it? It was entirely numb, so he couldn’t tell.
“An astute observation, Graham. I don’t serve as a full body pillow for just any old Tom, Dick, or Harry.” She replied. And then she flushed a soft pink and squirmed. “Oh, it’s ok if you don’t though. You’ll just have to, yknow.” Garrett raised an eyebrow at her.
“What, Wellsy? What do I have to do?” He smirked at her, triumphant at her blush, and turned his head towards his shoulder, ready to find that hand of his, now.
“Um. Get off me?” Hannah blushed harder. Why, he didn’t know, because telling someone to move wasn’t exactly embarrassing.
“If you like.” He said distractedly. Shoulder, bicep, forearm, hand.
Oh.
“My hand is on your ass.” He informed her.
“I’m aware of that,” Hannah said softly, cheeks pinking a darker shade. “You were asleep though, so I don’t mind.”
Garrett poured his concentration into keeping his fingers still, now that he knew where they were.
“I can’t feel my hand, to be honest, Wellsy.” He searched her face, trying to read what the hell she was thinking. “And you’re lying on it. And I appear, unless I’m actually having an aneurysm-induced coma dream, to be lying on you, so it’s stuck. But I am sorry for sleep-groping you.”
“Aneurysm-induced coma dream,” Hannah repeated, entertained, bypassing his apology. “That was your first thought?”
“My first thought was that this was a regular dream, and that my pillow was talking to me.”
“And the next logical step was that you were having an aneurysm.” Hannah’s eyes sparkled, and he gave up on trying to free his hand, leaving it be, trapped between the bed and her backside, since her body language was loose and relaxed, and she hadn't told him he needed to move it, yet. Garrett’s neck ached slightly where he was holding it up, but he ignored it to keep watching her clear enjoyment of their banter, tinged with early-morning sleepiness on his part, though Hannah didn’t seem to be having the same issue.
“Hockey is a contact sport, Wellsy.” Garrett knew that he took every precaution, but that injuries still happened anyway, in such a brutal sport.
“I know,” Hannah said, more subdued. “Your ribs are purple. You look like Barney.”
“The dinosaur?” Garrett said incredulously and tried to move the hand under her back soothingly. “I hadn’t noticed, Wellsy.”
“Liar,” Hannah said, singsong. “You flinched last night, when I moved.” And then she paled so fast he thought for a second she might pass out. "Oh, fuck."
“What?” Garrett said, confused for a split second, and then, “You were awake?”
Hannah threw her hands up to cover her face. Garrett missed the weight of her hand on his back immediately, and then decided he didn’t care, and that he wasn’t lying to himself.
“Nope.” She said, scarlet red peeking out from behind her palms. Even her neck was blushing, and he fought the instinct to see if the blush went further. He did move his hand from her back, then, worming it free and taking hold of her wrist. “Not even a little bit.” He tugged lightly at her wrist, trying to get her to let him draw it back, away from her face.
“Hannah.”
She groaned in response.
“Hannah.” He said again, determined.
“No,” Hannah whined, shaking her head behind her hands.
“Wellsy, c’mon.” Garrett switched tactics, letting her wrist go and dipping his fingers into the curve of her shoulder and neck, tickling her. She shrieked, and flailed, and as he dodged her limbs, he thought abstractly about how good this would look for their cover story, with Jules somewhere in the same house as them.
“Don’t!” Hannah gasped, giggling and squirming. He took the opportunity to yank his spare hand free, and grazed it over the curve of her waist, then her ribs. She squealed, hands finally uncovering her face and swatting at him. He caught one hand easily and bared his teeth playfully at the other. Hannah cackled, still feigning that she was trying to hit him, though the taps that landed were light as a feather.
“No more tickling!” She yelped, eyes bright and cheeks pink.
“Tell me why you pretended to be asleep.” He half demanded, fingers still poised at her side, though he’d stilled for the moment.
“Sure. At the heat death of the universe.” Hannah protested, glancing warily at his hands. He raised his eyebrow again.
“C’mon, Hannah.” He said, softer now. “It’s just me.”
“Ugh, why is that so effective?” Hannah muttered under her breath. “Don’t answer that.” She instructed, as his mouth opened on words that were probably something cocky, and whilst true, inflated. “You already said it, really.”
Garrett considered her for a moment.
“You wanted to cuddle?” He asked. Hannah nodded. “Wellsy, why didn’t you just ask?” He said, puzzled. Her gaze snapped to his.
“You literally refused to let me have the bed, Garrett. I didn’t really think ‘hey, want to snuggle’ would have gone over very well.”
Garrett pouted at her, wide-eyed and making himself look ridiculous on purpose, because then maybe the tight line of her shoulders would fucking relax.
“I said we could share, Wellsy.”
“Sharing isn’t snuggles,” Hannah said stubbornly.
“Christ, Hannah.” He laughed, bemused. “Do you want to cuddle or not?”
She eyed him, as if trying to figure out if he was teasing her.
“Maybe.”
“Hannah.”
“Garrett.”
“Do you want to snuggle?” She asked. “Because it’s all well and good if I do, but you haven’t said you want to, either.”
Garrett rolled his eyes light-heartedly and dropped his head back down, ear over her heart.
“Garrett!” Hannah sputtered.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He teased. “Did you want to be little spoon?” He could hear her heartbeat, fluttering in his ear.
“Pretty sure I was little spoon plenty last night.” She said quietly and finally put her hand back on his spine.
“I really thought you’d woken up way later.” He said mournfully. “Were you awake the whole time?”
“Nah.” She told him. “Yeah.” She said, changing her mind. “I mean, sort of?”
“Spit it out, Wellsy.” Garrett teased, and curled his fingers around her ribcage, marvelling at how much smaller she was under his hands, in comparison with his. His hands covered like, her entire side.
“I woke up properly when you moved your arm away. But...”
"But?"
"I was half awake already when I bumped your ribs." She said guiltily.
Garrett lifted his head and rested his chin just above the swell of her breasts, his necklace pooling against her skin.
“Wellsy, I really hate to be the one who breaks this to you, but that is basically the whole time. That is like. At least 95 percent of the time. Do you need to retake middle school math class?”
Her eyes darted over his face, and he thought she might have looked at his mouth for just a moment.
“I know how to do math, Garrett.”
"Are you sure?" He asked, mock-serious. "I think you need to recap percentages, at least."
"Well, then," Hannah said, half laughing.
“Well, then.” He repeated, corner of his mouth lifting into a smile, and let his head tip to the side, nose brushing the curve of her neck, head on her shoulder now. Hannah slid her hand into the curls at the base of his neck and used them as a handhold to reposition his head slightly.
“Hush, you.” She scolded, so gently it was barely a scold.
“As you wish,” Garrett mumbled, lulled by her heartbeat, and the sounds of her breathing, and the gentle movement of her chest under his head. He was so comfy and pleased that the thrill of his hair pulling slightly barely registered.
“You’ve seen The Princess Bride?” Hannah exclaimed, delighted.
“’S a dated movie, too.” Garrett moved his head in a movement that absolutely was not nuzzling.
“It’s a classic, and you know it,” Hannah argued and scratched gently at the back of his neck with her nails.
“Okay.” Garrett agreed easily, arching his neck into it like a cat, eyes sliding closed. Hannah huffed a quiet laugh and kept scratching.
“This is all it takes, huh?” She raked her nails through his hair slowly. “Big, mean, hockey machine, subdued by having his hair played with?”
“I contain multitudes." He said, fighting a groan. "And m’not mean.” In a childish fit of pique, Garrett licked the side of her neck, making her yelp. “Say it, Wellsy.”
“God, Garrett, ew.” Hannah was vaguely breathless, and her heartbeat had picked up again. He slobbered on her neck again, laughing the whole time. Hannah pulled at his hair gently, trying to get his face away from her.
“Say it, Wellsy.”
“Fine!” She exclaimed. “You’re not mean.”
He settled back down, victorious.
“Say, ‘Garrett Graham is the nicest man I’ve ever met’.” He grinned at her, cracking his eyes open to catch the look on her face. “I’ll lick you again.” He threatened.
“Oh my God, Graham.” Hannah was fighting to keep the smile off her face. “I can’t believe you’re an only child. You act like you’ve got fifteen siblings.”
“I do.” He said, fresh amusement spilling over when her face scrunched in thought. “Hockey team, Hannah. Duh.”
“Duh.” She parroted, and stared at him as he wriggled in place, butting up into her hand for more petting. “You’re like a puppy.” She told him, already moving her hand again.
“So I’m cute?”
“You keep using that word.” Hannah quoted. “I do not think it means what you think it means.” Her terrible accent made him laugh. But she scritched at his scalp harder, and all his responses evaporated as little shocks of enjoyment zinged down his spine. “I’m surprised your leg isn’t going.”
The mental imagery made him chuckle, lifting a leg to imitate a dog kicking its leg at a belly scratch, sheer joy at her resounding laugh building in his chest.
In a little while, they’d no doubt have to get up, get dressed, and catch their separate buses back to campus.
But for now? He revelled in the physical contact, the smell of her hair in his nose, the feel of her ribs under his hands, the sound of her laughter in his ears, and the feeling of being the one to make her laugh in his lungs, and didn’t think too deeply about anything for a while.