Golden Hour (GarouxReader lemon)

Part 9

This is just a chapter of domestic fluff...I mean the whole story is domestic fluff but this is really just domestic fluff XD

~*~

I will myself to wake up. I gather all the fucking mental capacity and energy I have left and will myself to wake up. To push through this half-asleep, half-conscious blackness that I keep drifting in an out of for fuck knows how long.
Somewhere, as if distant and far away, I can feel her pressed against me. I need to wake the fuck up. I need to get closer. I need to feel her closer.
I also feel something soft and purring, like a little motor, next to my head.
Wake the fuck up.
I remember feeling so fuckin' hot. So unbearably fucking hot.
I'm still feeling way off but at least it's not a fucking hell sauna anymore.
Wake up, goddamnit.
How many hours has it been?
I feel I'm getting a little closer, can feel more of her weight on me, her head on my chest. I don't feel her move. I think she's asleep. Did we sleep together all night like this? Words I never thought would drift through my mind...
I need to open my fuckin' eyes and see it for myself because right now I don't believe it. Maybe I'm still fucked up and delirious and this is just some fever dream. In which case, let's not wake up yet. Let it burn if this is what my mind gives me in dire circumstances. Maybe I should get sick more often if this is how it is.
I feel her stir a bit, get more comfortable on my chest.
No. I think this is real.
Fuck.
Wake up, son of a bitch.
Finally, my mind seems to come back into focus. Suddenly, I can feel everything in real time, the warmth of her body against me, her light, slow breathing as she sleeps, the cat curled up next to my head, this sweat-stained t-shirt. I hear a car drive by outside. The late morning light cutting through the window.
The fever seems to have passed but I feel so fuckin' worn out even though I've done nothing but lie here all night next to her. Everything feels so fuckin' heavy. I lie completely still. I want to put my arm around this woman lying half on top of me. This woman who stayed all night looking after an insolent asshole like me.
I remember that last thing, when she said 'I'm here' before I passed out again.

And she's still here. I'm surprised she hasn't had enough of my shit and just up and left. Sometimes, when I come in through her back door, always open for me at any hour, I get this thought. This thought that I'm gonna come in to find this house empty. That one day, I'll open that door and she won't be here. But it hasn't happened yet.
I open that door and she's always here. Either cooking, or watching tv or reading or if I'm very lucky, I find her on the couch very much waiting for me wearing nothin' but her heels, very impatiently waiting for me and that is always a fun time. Always. No matter how damn tired or sleep deprived I am, I make sure I show my fucking appreciation.
And she's here now, letting me rest, sleep against her, never leaving my side.

And I remember thinking 'Fuck' as I heard those almost silent tears. I've really goddamn fucked up now. So waking up to this feels like a fucking miracle.
I open my eyes. I can't see her face like this but the sight of her body next to mine is more than enough proof. Her arm wrapped around my chest is more than enough.
She's wearing this big, thick jumper but suddenly I realise she's been here like this on top of the covers all night. The heating is on but my arm reflexively goes around her. Fuck. How cold was it last night? I press my arm tighter around her, hoping she didn't freeze.
The cat notices I'm awake and uncurls, stands up, her purring growing louder and more excited as she starts to knead the pillow next to my head with her paws, pokes at my forehead with her tiny nose.
I give her a warning look, ordering her to stay quiet but she doesn't give two shits, as usual, starts walking around the bed, all over me.
And of course the commotion wakes her up. Goddamn cat. I was good like this. So fuckin' good.
I feel her move softly against me, her head turns a bit and for a moment there I feel like she presses herself closer into me. I can feel her hand curl around my t-shirt, as if she needs me here, and it seems like she's going back to sleep before suddenly lifting herself up, looking beautifully sleepy and dazed and surprised.
That's it, I think. Heaven is fuckin' over. Hello real world. I'm about to get my ass handed to me.
She blinks a few times, adjusting to the light, looking around. And then her eyes settle on mine. Here it comes.
"You're awake," she whispers with the most relieved biggest smile I have seen. This was not what I was expecting. "How do you feel?" she asks, but before I can answer she starts fussing over me, the questions one after the other.
"Do you want me to get you anything?"
No. Just stay here.
"How do you feel?"
Like shit, but I'll survive.
"Did you sleep ok?"
Better than ever.
"I wasn't bothering you?"
You could never bother me. Get back here. Get under the covers this time so I can keep you warm.
"Do you still feel hot?"
She puts her hand to my forehead softly but feels that's not enough and suddenly I feel her lips light against my skin instead, her hand on my cheek.
"You're still pretty warm," she says, quickly pulling away, kneeling next to me.
I have no idea what the fuck she just said.
What the fuck just happened?
I know it means nothing. But she can't keep doing this. She can't be giving me these moments of her. Because moments are not enough anymore. Barely fucking enough. Barely fucking enough to stay sane.
"I'm going to make you something easy to eat," she informs me with the most gorgeous smile, running her hand through my hair casually, just like I pet Delilah. "I'll be back soon."
"No, you don't-" I start, try to sit up but she's way faster than me in this fuckin' sorry state.
"Can't hear you," she says all sing-song and bounces out the door and I can hear her hurrying downstairs and out of the house. Of course. There ain't nothing that good to eat here.
I sit there, my body adjusting to being upright. Fuck, this is shit.
I sit there and I try to piece all these moments together. That first one, her naked in the lamp light, in the dark blue night, my head in her lap, her hands bandaging me, her fingers raking affectionately through my hair and so many others. I add the warm feel of her lips on my forehead.
It's like this fuckin' puzzle. I feel I have all the pieces but they won't fit together. Won't turn into something whole, something that makes fucking sense even though I feel like they should. This frustration is startin' to drive me fucking mad. What the fuck more do I need?
I feel like a starving man invited to a fuckin' banquet but all I can do is stare. Like if I reach out and take something it will all disappear in a goddamn wisp of smoke.
All that fuckin' power and all that fuckin' pride I've been collecting. They can't help me here.
I find myself laughing quietly at the bitter fucking irony.
The cat looks at me, probably wondering if that fever didn't do a number on my brain.
And I start to wonder too.
I notice I'm gripping the edge of the covers, my fingers aching. No real, no satisfying outlet for my frustrations or desires.
Anyway, she went back home. I doubt she'll be rushing back here and I need a fucking shower, I think, suddenly feeling less than comfortable in this shirt.
I let the covers go and get up and it takes me a few moments to walk straight but I make it to the bathroom.