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It's hard to tell if you're half asleep or half awake as you bury your face in the pillows and sigh. Your body feels heavy, like you can't quite move it properly, can't quite feel where all your limbs are. Maybe it's the clash with Ronan or maybe the exhaustion is finally catching up with you. It feels wrong to be sleeping, even though your entire being is crying at you to just stay in bed for the next week. Surprisingly, you haven't actually cried yet, but honestly you're just waiting for it to happen at the worst moment possible, because that would be just your luck, wouldn't it?
At some point, you must manage to slip into unconsciousness again, because when you next stir there's a faint light beyond your eyelids and the sound of someone trying to move very quietly through your room. Panic washes over you, but quickly fades when you realise that if it was a demon, Mime would have told you. Probably just Elizabeth, she likes to check up on you sometimes, so you do what you normally would and pretend to still be sleeping. You can feel someone hovering over you and it's an effort not to open your eyes, especially when the crackle of something distinctly magical reaches your senses. It smells like the first spark meeting tinder, but is quickly washed away by something heady and full of spice, almost like-
Like the person that heavy sigh might belong to, someone who is definitely not Elizabeth. A warm hand skates over your shoulder and you use that as a good enough reason to open your eyes as if you haven't been awake for a few minutes. The familiar glow of Michael's fire greets you, slowly coming into focus along with his face and the tight frown it's knitted into. It takes him a moment to realise you're awake, and when he does, his expression flits between relieved and even more worried.
"Sorry, sweetheart," he murmurs, "didn't mean to wake you."
No matter how many times he uses pet names for you, every time they make you blush out to the tips of your ears. Hopefully he can't see it very well in the dark.
"It's okay," you mumble, the words coming out a little slurred as your mouth gets used to making sounds again. "What're you doing?"
He breaks eye contact at that, maybe looking even a little sheepish as he removes his hand and kneels on the floor instead. "Just… checking," he replies slowly.
You let out a little snort. "Checking I'm asleep?"
"Alive," he corrects, perhaps quicker than he was intending as he promptly clears his throat. "What with your track record as of late." He laughs slightly, but it's empty, lacking even his fake humour.
"Well I am," you assure him. "I promise."
"Tell that to my nightmares," he quips under his breath.
Oh. You frown, pushing the covers back to let you reach out and place a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry-" your voice cracks and the way Michael's attention is immediately back on your face makes your heart ache. You clear your throat and continue, trying to reassure him that you're not crying. "I really didn't mean to worry you."
He just shrugs, his eyes still studying you. He looks beautiful in this light; the purple aura of his magic making his eyes almost seem to glow .
"I'm just…" he pauses, swallowing thickly. "I'm not used to caring. But I don't mean that in a bad way," he adds quickly, managing a little smile.
He looks so vulnerable. It makes your heart both soar and sink to see him drop his mask around you. It's a complicated feeling.
"Do you want to stay?"
The words are out of your mouth before you can really think about the implications. But you don't regret them, even if the resulting pause is the longest of your life. Michael blinks, eyes wide, and you swear you see his cheeks turn pink before he snuffs out his fire.
"Sure thing." He sounds more confident in the dark. "Can't say no to such a pretty face."
You move back to give him space, trying to ignore the fact that your hands are sweaty and everything suddenly feels a lot more warm. Michael isn't wearing his robe, you notice when he slips under the covers alongside you. That's about the last thing you notice by looking at him, however, as your shyness finally gets the better of you and you turn to face away from him, heart hammering in your ears.
"Still sure about this?" Michael whispers, his breath ghosting across your neck and making you shiver.
Not trusting your voice, you make an "mhm" sound and reach back to find his hand. You lace your fingers with his and squeeze, before settling them over your chest. You've never been this bold in your life…
"Well, your heart is definitely working."
Michael has spoken next to your ear before, but never like this . You're pretty sure every ounce of blood in your body is in your cheeks right now. Maybe this wasn't a good idea - you'll never be able to sleep like this, with your pulse thrumming painfully fast and heat prickling on your skin. But, well, even if you don't sleep, is it really so bad? You get to be close to Michael, and in a roundabout way you're helping him sleep too. Yeah, okay, this is fine (or maybe more than fine).
"Goodnight, Morgan," Michael sighs, as if he's said it a dozen times before. "Sweet dreams."
"Night," you manage, though your voice sounds a little choked. "You too."
Michael just chuckles, pressing his cheek to your shoulder as he gets comfortable. For a few long moments, you all-but hold your breath, waiting for your body and mind to either calm down or reject this situation completely. Thankfully, they choose the former; Michael's slow breathing helps your own get into a rhythm, along with the way he gently strokes his thumb over your collarbone, slowing your heart rate as if by magic.
You drift off quicker than you'd expected, slipping into one of the most comfortable sleeps of your life. You don't dream, but that's alright. They'd probably all just be embarrassing anyway. Hopefully you don't snore…
***
Michael is gone when you wake up, which you're both a little upset over and very grateful for. You don't always look your best first thing in the morning. Thinking back on what happened, you're half-convinced it was a dream until you see the little slip of paper on your nightstand.
"Gone to the Library. Join me?"
Okay, good, he does want to see you again - you were worried you'd kicked him in your sleep or something. The bed still smells like him, you realise as you move. So do you, probably. Will Mime be able to tell? Maybe you'll stay in bed just a little longer, let the others go out before you head to the Library.
***
Michael presses you against the bookcase, every pent up emotion pouring out from both of you as you kiss. Your hand threads into his hair, holding him close as his own grip sits firmly on your hips. His hair is so soft and he smells gorgeous , just like last night. It's everything you've wanted since that first drink in the tavern.
You both gasp as your lips part, but whereas you stay panting - your head dropping back against the books with a thud that you barely feel - Michael kisses a trail along your jaw and down your throat. He's relentless, his hands sliding up your back to hold you flush against his chest. His heart is beating just as fast as yours this time and his skin is fire against your own.
You have a feeling you're not going to be leaving here for a while…