Chapter Text
It is strange to wake up next to someone, still. You have spent a little over a month with Maggie (37 days, to be accurate), and half the time you wake up disoriented and sleep-panicked, wondering what's brushing against your leg. It takes some getting used to – seemingly less so for Maggie, who has done this before with other people. That doesn't bother you nearly as much as you'd thought it would, that Maggie has had other partners. You both had lives before each other, and that makes it sweeter that you've found each other now, after trying and failing to do without.
But.
Pink light is breaking through the Toronto skyline, weaving its way into the hotel room. It had been too late to go home last night – not that either of you really had anywhere to go, having danced out of leases sometime last week – so Maggie had suggested one of the airport hotels, close and comfortable. It hadn't taken much to get you to agree, just that little quirk of her eyebrow. That's always been your weakness with her (well, the biggest one), and you're sure that if she figures that out you will cease to have any control over your own life. Now though her eyebrows are relaxed, eyes closed, still asleep. You're sort of flattered that she's out so heavily, that you managed to tire her out so thoroughly last night. You'd started kissing her in the airport, and it hadn't really stopped until you'd both collapsed, breathless, on top of the sheets long after today had become tomorrow.
None of this seems real, not yet. Maggie, tucked up against you, with her hair mussed and wild, naked and warm. She has a slight smile on her face even while sleeping, and that is one of your favorite things about her. Your hair flows in rivers across her chest, your hands gentle on her stomach. Her face is turned slightly toward you so her nose is tickling the top of your head. It is peaceful and calm, and you are amazed that you can feel this at ease, naked, with another person. Though it's always been this way with her, since the first time that started in the on-call room years ago. You had finished at her apartment, spent hours touching and talking until...well, you were still engaged, back then.
Maggie stirs, just slightly, the start of her routine to wake up. She is a master, you have learned, at maintaining that gentle stage of sleep, just aware enough to feel warmth and comfort but not truly cognizant. So you let her linger there for awhile, fingers moving through her hair that has tangled a mess across the pillows. Always expressive, Maggie goes through so many facial tics in this state as her body tries to react to everything going on around her without her mind able to process any of it. You are naturally an earlier riser – you've seen Maggie sleep until one in the afternoon when given the chance – but this would be worth getting up for on its own. Maggie isn't peaceful in sleep – that is, she isn't still. She twitches and moves and goes through sets of tiny smiles, all in cycles, all through the night.
It is extremely endearing.
A little more movement, and you can tell that she will be up soon. You place a kiss on her chest, shift your head to a little higher on her shoulder. Maggie's legs kick at yours, her arms stretching as she yawns her way into the morning. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and then – she realizes where she is, that you are here, and a smile spreads wide across her face.
She kisses you, hand soft on your cheek, long and sweet. “Good morning.”