xregicide-deactivated20140812:
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
Summer wraps herself up in a couple of blankets and curls over, drowsing. Dawn seems to come, somehow, too soon and too late, and it’s achingly hard to unwind herself from the warmth of Mordred’s body. It’s a small comfort that all she has to do is lift a finger for the fire to blaze back up.
When he wakes he opens his eyes for a few moments, in a daze but soon curls back up into the warmth of the blankets, closing his eyes again. Sometimes, he just wished he could stay curled up like this but he knew they had places to be, so for that extra hour he decided to stay and catch up on some sleep.
She can’t actually move, she finds, when her thoughts swim to the surface of consciousness again. Mordred’s arm is tight about her waist, clutching her close. A soft smile curves her mouth, and she puts her hand over his and snuggles back, before slowly twisting herself in his arms so she can see his face.
He looks infinitely younger sleeping, the constant worry smoothed away from his brow. She cups his face in her hands, then breathes, “Mordred. Wake.”