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Fatima’s not properly asleep, is just dozing, but she still doesn’t startle when she feels a pair of strong arms lift her from the couch; instead she loops her arms around OA’s neck, nuzzles her face into his chest as she sighs his name. “C’mon, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, his voice warm and amused, his breath ruffling her hair and sending shivers up her spine, “let’s get you to bed.”
“Such a softy,” she whispers, loving how this is a side of him that only she gets to see; his equally quiet, “Guilty,” and the kiss to her temple that accompanies it is another and she knows that right here, right now, this is the only place she wants to be.