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Eva still remembers the first night she woke up in Jasper’s bed.
They stayed up late together the night before, reading and talking—stealing kisses in his library late into the night—until the dawn started to approach. He offered to walk her home and she asked to spend the day instead—perhaps there was enough time for her to make it back to Griffith Park, perhaps there was not, either way, she didn’t really want to leave just yet.
Jasper offered her his bedroom, his bed—wanting her to be comfortable even though comfort matters very little when one is dead to the waking world—and said he’d sleep on one of the couches in the living room. Even after she’d kissed him and asked to sleep over at his place, he was still so worried about overstepping. He was all nervous energy and awkward smiles—as if he couldn’t quite believe this was really happening but still didn’t want to mess it up just in case.
He led her down the hall to his bedroom, but when he tried to leave her at the door—without even a kiss goodnight—she stopped him with a gentle hand.
“Stay with me,” Eva said, stepping in close. Her voice was quiet, but sure. There was no hesitation for her, not when it came to him, not even then. She knew what she wanted.
“W-what?” Jasper asked, trying to wrap his head around her words.
“Stay with me,” she repeated, one hand on his chest as she looked up at his face, his eyes, his lips, his fangs—she was already starting to fall in love with the details of him on that first night.
“I—I don’t want to… impose… on you.”
“It’s no imposition, Jasper. This is your haven, after all.”
“But—”
“If you’re not comfortable with the idea of sleeping in the same bed as me, I won’t stop you from walking away. But don’t refuse on my behalf. I want to be close to you… That’s all… I’m not asking for anything more than whatever you’re willing to give me tonight.”
Eva could see the uncertainty in his eyes—the nervous fear and self-consciousness that she hoped enough of her tender attention could eventually wipe away—and reached up to cup his jaw, tracing her thumb across his sharp cheekbone.
“Come to bed with me,” she said gently, “All I want tonight is to fall asleep beside you, to feel you hold me, to hold you in return… That’s all I want. What do you want?”
Jasper swallowed hard as if gathering his courage—such a human reflex to carry over into his unlife—and then nodded.
“I—I want…” he said, stumbling over his words as one of his hands hovered near her hip without touching her, “I… I’d like… that.”
“You’re sure?” Eva asked, not wanting to pressure him into this even if she wanted nothing more than to crawl under the sheets and curl up beside him.
“Yeah,” he answered, his voice a little more steady, “I’m sure if you are.”
“I’m very sure.”
“Bed’s not very big,” Jasper remarked, gesturing at the twin-sized bed tucked into one corner of the small room.
“We’ll manage.”
And then she took his hand and led him into his own bedroom as he closed the door behind them. They didn't undress—not really, not like they do now—but they cast shy glances at each other as they discarded the little things that felt silly to wear to bed.
Eva slipped the lace gloves off her hands first and saw some of the tension leave Jasper’s shoulders as any threat of her wards was removed. Giving them up felt like taking off her armor—even during the day, when no other Kindred could find her, the precaution gave her an irrational bit of comfort—but she wanted him to feel safe with her, the way she felt safe with him. She removed her flower crown next and her shoes before unbraiding her hair to let it tumble down her back in soft waves. Jasper undid the heavy buckles and laces on his thick-soled black boots, and even with all his other layers still intact, she thought he looked a bit softer without them on his feet.
There was a bit of fumbling—who would get under the covers first, who would sleep on which side of the bed—they were both so out of practice then, so unused to sleeping next to someone else. But Eva knew what she wanted, even then, and took the first step just as she had when she’d kissed him earlier in the night. She cuddled into his side, resting her head on his chest, just over his unbeating heart. She draped her arm across his torso, running a finger down his arm, from elbow to wrist, in an attempt to guide him into touching her. After a few tense seconds of indecision, Jasper wrapped his arms around her, returning the embrace.
“Is this alright?” she’d asked, toying with the front of his hoodie where it lay open over his t-shirt.
“More than alright,” Jasper had murmured back, before pressing a kiss—so light she almost thought she’d imagined it—to the top of her head. She laughed softly at his boldness, happy to see him taking some initiative.
They fit together well as they drifted off to sleep, the sun rising over the distant horizon. This was so new to them both, but the nervous tension between them wasn’t uncomfortable. There was anticipation there, sweet and enticing, a curiosity about what was yet to come.
Eva fell asleep smiling.
Waking up with someone felt new, too. There was surprise and uncertainty for a moment, but that faded once Eva remembered the night before—sweet kisses and old books and falling asleep in someone’s arms. She relaxed into him again and waited for him to wake. It didn’t take long. Only a few minutes after her own eyes opened, she felt Jasper’s hands flex against her back as he stirred into wakefulness beside her.
She gave him a moment to remember—to recall how they’d fallen asleep together, to adjust to the weight of her in his arms—before she spoke.
“Good evening,” Eva murmured into the darkened silence of his bedroom.
“H-hey,” he replied, still stuttering and nervous despite spending the entire day holding her close.
She giggled and leaned up to press a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw—something simple, something close to chaste, easing him back into the intimacy of all this even though some part of her just wanted to pin him to the mattress and kiss him senseless.
“Thank you for letting me sleep over,” she said, settling back on his chest and making no move to get out of bed just yet.
“I—you’re welcome. It was no trouble.”
“Would it be alright with you if I… stayed for a little while longer?” she asked, looking up at him, “So we could… keep reading together?”
“I’d like that,” Jasper answered, one of his hands absentmindedly stroking Eva’s back as they lay together.
That was the first evening. There have been so many since then.
After Jasper’s kidnapping and rescue, the nights turned into weeks which turned into months. His bed in his bedroom in his haven turned into theirs. A place for her flower crown on the nightstand, her books mixed in with his, a table in the living room for her blood sorcery, a chair in the library that quickly became her favorite place to read—a home shared between the two of them. Eva still isn’t sure when exactly she went from house guest to resident, but it felt right somehow.
They have always fit well together; this is no exception.
They woke up together every night after his rescue. After three agonizing nights of worrying if the Camarilla had killed him or worse, she didn’t want to sleep alone anymore. Jasper seemed to feel much the same way.
And so Eva grew accustomed to falling asleep in his arms and waking up the same way.
Some nights he would wrap himself around her, pulling her back in close to his chest and holding her tight. She can’t see his face when they lie like this—and she much prefers waking up to the sight of his sharp blue eyes—but sometimes it is nice to feel him hold her like this, his tall body curving protectively around hers.
One night, she remembers, she fell asleep fully on top of him, her petite body stretched out along his much taller one, with her head pillowed on her crossed arms just below his chin. His arms were wrapped loosely around her then, resting closer to her thighs than her waist. She remembers waking the same way, in the perfect position to press her lips to his neck as he woke beneath her. Both of them were slow and unhurried in their early evening kisses and easy conversation that night, falling into a familiar rhythm.
More often though, she falls asleep in much the same way she did that first night, with her head on his chest and his arms around her. As they grew closer, this kind of embrace grew more intimate, their bodies molding together as they tried to get as close as they could. Now their legs end up tangled together beneath the blankets, Eva’s hands roaming more freely across his torso as he plays with her hair.
They wear less to bed now than they did that first night, too. Sometimes Jasper still falls asleep in his jeans, but Eva can usually coax him into at least shedding his hoodie before curling up with her. And sometimes he’ll wear something softer—old sweatpants or flannel—when he’s feeling close to domestic. Once her clothes find a space in his closet—their closet now—she starts wearing pajamas to bed: faded concert tees from a lifetime ago, comfortable cotton shorts, even a few short satiny nightgowns trimmed in lace for when she feels like dressing up for bed.
Some nights they fall asleep wearing nothing at all. A tangle of limbs, their flushed skin cooling as the Blush fades from their bodies, both of them too content to think about putting anything back on before the sun rises.
Jasper’s self-consciousness has not disappeared entirely. There are still nights when he overthinks, when he gets trapped in his own cyclical thoughts, hating his own body and certain she must feel the same. But Eva has learned how to calm him, how to dissuade those racing, hate-filled imaginings, with gentle hands and honest words and soothing reminders that he is so absolutely loved.
Some nights she cradles his head to her chest, tracing the dark veins on his scalp and rubbing comforting circles into the back of his neck, holding him as best she can as he clings to her. Those are not always good nights—they are often marked by anxiety and fear and pain, a deep-rooted sadness that they both know all too well—but they lead to good evenings when the sun sinks below the horizon again. Waking up in each other’s arms always makes them both feel safer, more secure. The night is full of danger, but their bedroom remains a refuge despite it all—their fears cannot reach them here, not when they wake twined around each other.
The days Eva spent away from him—after Nelli’s party, after leaving the city, after deciding she needed to take care of things on her own—were painful. Four months together had wiped away the muscle memory of forty years alone. And falling asleep in someone’s arms, waking up just the same, had become her new and cherished normal. She fell asleep alone in unfamiliar places, hoping he was alright back in LA, every bed feeling too big without him in it. She woke up every evening expecting to find him beside her still, stroking her hair or her back, lacing his fingers through hers, waiting for her to wake up so he could greet her with feather light kisses and the promise of more.
Those were bad nights and worse evenings, a cycle of renewed loss and disappointment each time she went to bed alone.
But those nights apart made their reunion all the sweeter for it. When she finally finished what she needed to, when she finally felt safe enough to return, when it was finally done, she found her way back to Los Angeles and back to Jasper. They clung to each other that first night, desperate to hold and be held after so many weeks apart. There were bloody tears and breathless laughter, both of them so relieved to be back in each other’s arms.
They fell asleep in a tangle that night, their bodies wrapped around each other, her curves and his angles fitting together as if they’d never been apart. They woke up intertwined and stayed in bed for the rest of the evening and into the night—there were still things to discuss, but their bed seemed as good a place as any to have those conversations. She felt his hands on her back, in her hair, stroking her hip and caressing her spine, touching her everywhere—slowly, gently, as if he was relearning her body after her time away. She returned his careful affections, scratching the back of his neck in the way that always made him purr, tracing the lines of his rib cage and the veins on his arms, absentmindedly drawing runes of protection on his chest as they spoke.
So much had changed while she was gone, but those pressure points remained the same.
Eva loves falling asleep in Jasper’s arms, but waking up there—exchanging sleepy kisses and planning the night to come in sleep-softened voices—might be even more wonderful. The day sleep is a Kindred’s most vulnerable state and to share it with another is an act of profound trust. Each night spent in their bed is a silent vow that they will both still be there when the sun sets again.
Drifting off to sleep together is a promise, waking up together is the keeping of it. And it is a promise Eva and Jasper are both more than willing to make, night after night, as the sun rises and sets on the world outside their haven.