The lamp flicking on drags me sharply out of my dozing dreams - half-full of imagined battles against impossible monsters - and into the bed once more. My mind is still too foggy to really comprehend the world around me, but I can hear the shuffling of clothes and quiet humming. Winter.
She must be home early from her trip, I realize once my mind begins to clear. I still haven't opened my eyes - the lamp is bright and it hurts - but I know she's there. Nobody else has a key. Nobody else knows that song.
I roll away from the light and her humming stops for a moment. Weight settles on the bed behind me, then a hand presses against the skin between my shoulder blades. I'm mostly awake now, and feeling the warmth of her skin on mine after so long apart carries me up further.
I pull my hand out from under the blankets and reach behind me, making a grabbing motion in the air. Winter giggles and gently squeezes my hand before continuing to undress. I can hear her feet padding on the carpet as she makes her way to the shower.
The pleasant warmth of contentment bubbles up in my chest. Soon after, water drumming against tile begins to pull me back to my dreams.
I'm awoken again by the bed dipping behind me, and a warm arm curling around my waist. A quiet hum escapes me as Winter pulls us closer together, entangles our legs.
She presses a kiss to the back of my neck and slips her hand under my top to splay her fingers across my belly. My arm comes to rest atop her own, and I feel like I'm at home for the first time in a week.
I'll tell her I love her in the morning. She knows I do, but I can't bring myself to disturb this peace, nor can I muster the energy. Not with the sweet fragrance of her shampoo filtering through the air, not with her thumb gently rubbing against my skin, not with her humming us both to sleep.
