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She was going to kill him, and the worst part of it was that he doubted that she was even trying to. This was just her. The small smiles and touches, the way she looked at him to get his opinion about a decision before she made it. But by Aetherius itself did they make his heart flutter when she interacted with him like that. And he sees it with other people, the way that she seems to influence everyone she meets in some life-altering way, and the eyes which follow after her in the same way that he imagines his do.
Which is exactly why this set of pajamas would actually be what kills him. Not a dragon, not Mora, not anything else. The barely knee-length shift that she is currently wearing to sleep next to him. For the first time. In a completely platonic fashion. May one of the gods choose to strike him down now so that he doesn’t have to accidentally wake up sleeping next to her and confess to something he knows that she would never accept.
“I can hear you thinking Miraak.” He hopes not. He really, truly hopes that she cannot hear his thoughts at this moment. The wall of blankets and clothes he built wasn’t enough. Would never be enough to make both this moment and the morning less awkward. Less like his heart would beat out from beneath the skin of his chest.
“Oh, really Little Dovah? What am I thinking of then?” She chuckles and from the sounds that follow flops over onto her back. He held back a gasp as her knee appeared, the material slipping down due to her position. She had too much power over him. She could ask him for anything and the only question he would have for her was about any time constraints.
“Hmm… clearly you’re thinking about that stew we had for dinner.” Good. She can’t read minds. Yet, a part of his mind supplies. He doesn’t like that part of his mind. That part of his mind is giving him very bad ideas that he should not act out on at this moment in time. Like how nice it would be to lean over the wall he built between them and kiss her. Or just touch her. Her hands were soft. Her lips and skin had to be too.
No. “Not quite, try again?” She flops more, and then her hand comes over the wall. She invades his side. And grabs his hand. And then pulls it towards her side. This is dangerous. He built the wall to avoid this. But he’s not taking it back now. She can have it as long as she wants it, longer if she’ll allow it.
A giggle, her voice is soft and something he can only describe as sleepy. Good. She’s never gotten enough sleep as long as he’s known her. “Is it some kind of secret knowledge? Something you’re hiding?” Fuck she’s good. His Little Dovah is dangerous. But her voice is tired. And he can use that.
“Maybe. If you sleep now I’ll tell you about it sometime.” Never. He will never tell her about it. She wouldn’t accept it anyhow, and this way- he can keep her here. Keep her next to him. Touching him. Laughing at him. Shining those flame-blue eyes at him.
She drops his hand and he almost dies. It lands fairly dramatically on the soft satin that is her slip and he’s almost certain that it’s her stomach, and it takes all of his self-control to pull his hand back over the wall and back to his side. And not further up to rest on her neck or her arms. Fuck he wants her to touch him more. “Fine, you can keep your secrets for now.” Her leg disappears next as she flops back on her side and he only now realizes he’d been staring at it the whole time.
“Goodnight Little Dovah.” He could get used to saying that, here in her bed. And not at dinner when they say their goodnights. Maybe, maybe, if they both sleep better than they have in most of their lives she’ll agree to do this again. But that’s dangerous, a far smarter side of his brain supplies. She laughs again.
“Goodnight Miraak.” The magelight spell she cast is dropped, and he is left in the dark. Listening to her breathing as it evens out. Once she is letting out little sounds, so soft, that indicate she’s asleep, he finally closes his eyes and far faster than he has in centuries, falls asleep.
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Light is shining through the small window and sounds are beginning to come from the upstairs of the inn when Miraak awakens. He’s not used to that, and the pillow he’s on is far softer and more comfortable than he remembers it being. He moves slightly, adjusting to try and begin getting ready for the day when he realizes her arm is around his head. And that his pillow is no pillow.
His head is on her chest. Fuck. This is what he was trying to avoid. This is a bad idea. His eyes open and look around. The soft light is enough to take in the surroundings and his heart rate picks up when he looks at their legs. At his arms. Her arms. Their legs are entangled. Under the sheets, he can’t quite tell where his legs begin and her legs end. His arms are wrapped around her, and he can’t help but take in just how soft this all feels. It’s almost too much, makes him want to scream. But he can’t. She’s still sleeping. He can hear her heart’s beat from where his head rests and it’s… steady. Lulling him to just go back to sleep. To forget this. He wants to listen, eyes drooping back closed. It can just be a problem for later.
And then she stirs, one of her hands moving from his shoulder and into his hair. She scratches his head, and if he were a cat he was certain he would purr. She adjusts one of her legs, her ankle rubbing against one of his calves and he lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.
Her voice is quiet and still sleepy. For a moment he isn’t sure she spoke at all. But she does, “Go back to sleep ‘Raak.” He can do that. Will do that. He falls back under the spell of sleep with her heart under his head, not noticing the sleepy smile that had been plastered on her face.
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When Kynadora awakens, it's far later in the morning than she is used to. They’re still entangled, legs and arms wrapped around each other and Miraak has returned to his back. The wall is gone, and it seems that both had migrated to the middle of the bed sometime in the night. The sun is shining through the window and she’s surprised that the noise from outside didn’t wake them earlier. Candlehearth Hall had been full of noise last night, and it appeared that it would be full of noise tonight as well.
She adjusts her head, looking up at his still-sleeping face. She fights the urge to move her hand from his chest to cup his face, the soft smile present on his face making it even harder. His breathing is still steady, and Kynadora could probably fall back to sleep now but she’s far more well-rested than she remembers ever being. And today has to start eventually. Maybe they can not talk about this. And just continue it. Sleep had been rare and hard for her since childhood, but here she was. Well-rested and having slept through the night.
She’s memorized his face at this point, but this is a version of it that she is not yet used to. There is none of that worry or stress that decorates it on a normal day, no lines on his face from glaring at the world. Part of her misses those eyes on her. They always feel like they’re on her, following after her in a way that causes her face to redden when she catches him watching. His breathing is steady, and if it were not for the fact that they will need to pull themselves from this bed eventually, she would allow those steady breaths to lull her back to sleep. Her heart picks up its pace when he shifts, arms pulling her tighter to his chest. He’s soft and strong and he probably could envelop her in his robes and his arms if he wanted. She wants him to.
As if he can read that she is thinking of him, Miraak finally stirs, his eyebrows coming together and eyes squeezing tighter. The calmness from his face drops and she wishes she could call it back. Keep him in this place of safety and quiet forever. But that’s just not possible for them. His breathing changes and Kynadora is met with the dark brown of his eyes. They’re an almost inky black, and they are still sleepy-soft. He’s not awake yet, and a plan formulates. The gears of her mind turn, and it might be in a rather dangerous fashion. But she doesn’t think she could survive without waking up like this again.
“Good morning Miraak.” She has to work quickly. If they don’t talk about it then there can’t be an agreement to find separate beds. So she just won’t. She begins to untangle herself from him, careful not to jostle him too much.
“Good morning?” He sounds confused, still lost to sleep in a way. She’s out from under the covers and adjusts to finish crawling out of bed. Due to her rush, she slips slightly. Her hand catches on Miraak’s thigh and the sharp intake of breath and the way his whole body tenses shocks her so thoroughly she vows never to do it again. Even if it was an accident. She hears him curse under his breath and nearly runs out of the room to change into her day clothes.
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Miraak has only just woken and has already gone through more emotions than he did during most of his stay in Apocrypha. And he isn’t quite sure what emotion he’s on right now. Right now his brain was still stuck on the fact that she’d just touched his thigh. Fuck. And then she’d nearly teleported from the room and the bed. Well, at least she didn’t mention the position that they’d woken up in. Again. Memories of the point in the night when he’d awoken come running back. At least he hadn’t said anything damning. Hadn’t confessed anything that could ruin them, ruin her. His Little Dovah had not mentioned it, and he took that to mean that everything was fine. She’d never avoided speaking if she was uncomfortable before, and he doubted that she would avoid it this time. Maybe if they continued to not talk about it, they could do it again. Miraak pulled himself out of bed and went to change into his traveling clothes. The road ahead of them was still long, and the bed was cooling.