Gary and Libby - Take Two

Chapter Forty Eight

I slip comfortably into conscientiousness as i wake the next morning, mid-morning light glaring behind the shield of the cream bedroom curtains. Silently, i utter thanks that i managed to sleep through and roll sleepily onto my back. My attention shifts when i hear the disgruntled hiccup in Garys throat when i elbow him in the neck. I curse quietly, settling back down as quickly as possible so as not to disturb him further. Craning my neck, i note that its twenty two past ten by the clock at the bedside and cant hide the element of surprise. Normally Gary is up with Ethan long before nine. A comforting hum from the baby monitor tells me that my son is also still fast asleep, a blessing, yet equally as unusual. However, i decide to take full advantage of the peace as i prop myself up on one elbow and gaze down at my sleeping husband. The beard, after a late night pleading on my part, has gone and Gary lies clean shaven and invitingly smooth as he snores softly, mouth open, eye lashes fanned across his cheeks. My eyes follow the strong square line of his jaw, and slight hallowing of his cheeks under the perfectly structured cheekbones, all of it more obvious now his jaw is unveiled from the coating of hair. His lips, now on full view and not detracted from by the overhang of stubble, part further, his head shuffling forwards on the pillow, coming to rest against my chest. I sigh happily, warmed by the affectionate gesture, and ease myself back to stare at the ceiling.

Gary mutters something, nuzzling my chest through the thin cotton of one of his t-shirts and for a moment i think he might awaken.

But he doesnt. And soon the sound of his deep and slumbered breaths fill the room once more. His breath is warm against my chest as i pull my left hand up to cup the back of his head, absent mindedly scraping my nails against the short hairs at the cap of his neck. A strand of sleep tousled hair flops against his eyebrow, and i move an index finger to brush it back out of the way. Gary stirs; shifting the arm, that lies limp against his side, over my stomach, his legs mimicking his arms until he is wrapped around me like ivy.

"Gary?" I muse gently when his nose wrinkles and his eyes screw shut in defence to the bright light of the morning. Gary doesnt open his eyes, but i know hes awake when his left hand moves from my hip and slips under my t-shirt, resting tenderly against my stomach. I relax against the warmth of his fingers, curving my hand around the back of his head to drag the sleep rumpled hair further back. "Youre very tired." My brows meet, my forefinger tracing the frown of Garys eyebrows when he works on the swallow that ripples through my chest.

"Fee like shit." He croaks. Yeah, you sound it too.

"Hmm?" I try and move to get a better look at him, but Gary is insistent on using my chest as a pillow, moving his right arms to hook underneath my shoulder when i make an attempt to move. I relent, relaxing back into the warmth of the mattress and gazing down at the man wrapped around my body. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit." Gary repeats, and i half want to laugh.

"No i mean, did you drink too much last night?"

"I didnt drink anything." His left hand moves from my stomach momentarily to scrub at his stubbly free cheek. He still hasnt opened his eyes. "I didnt feel right last night. Now i feel worse."

"Babe.." I breathe, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and hugging him too me. "Are you okay? You dont get ill much."

Gary merely grunts in response. Pressing the backs of my knuckles against his forehead, i feel the spike of his temperature.

"Babe, youre boiling.." I mutter, trying to shift my legs from under Garys to kick the duvet off, but the meek whimper of protest from Gary stops me in my tracks.

"Im cold." He croaks, hugging me tighter, and when his nose Eskimo kisses my nipple through the cotton of the t-shirt, he hums appreciatively.

Rolling my eyes, i scold softly. "Gary.. Let me get you some paracetamol." I stir again, but he only tightens his already impossible grip, holding me like a child may clutch a comfort blanket.