I make myself smile, soft, sleepy.
"I just—I miss the others. That's all. Stupid. I got used to all three of you fast. It feels weird to only have one of you."
I watch him watch me.
I watch him decide.
His face does not move. His thumb strokes my lower lip once, slow. His eyes stay on mine and I feel him, in the bond, land somewhere.
He has caught me.
He knows I am not telling him the real thing.
He has decided not to ask.
"They'll be home soon," he says. Mild. Soft. "Tomorrow."
"...yeah."
"They’ll be fighting over you."
"Probably."
"You can sleep through it if you want."
"...okay."
He kisses my forehead. Slow. Warm.
He has made his choice and I have made mine and we are both lying right next to each other and on top of each other and inside each other and pretending we aren't, and the bond between us hums steady and warm and full of all the things we have just declined to say.
I close my eyes again.
He pulls me closer. Tucks my head under his chin. His knot is still inside me, still pulsing softly with every beat of his heart.
"Sleep, sweetheart."
"...yeah."
"I've got you."
"I know."
I lie awake for a long time. He lies awake longer. Neither of us speaks. The bond between us is so full I think I could read his pulse through it if I tried, and I try. It is steady. It is not slowing. He is awake, and he is thinking, and he is going to keep thinking until after I fall asleep.
Eventually his knot eases.
He slides out of me with a careful slowness that almost makes me cry again. Cleans us both with a corner of the sheet, which I will think about with embarrassment in the morning. Pulls the duvet up over both of us. Settles me back against his chest, my head tucked under his jaw, his arm a heavy band across my ribs.
"You'll be here in the morning?" I ask. Small. Half asleep.
"I'll be here."
"Promise."
"I promise."
I let myself believe him.
