burningletter- asked: Good morning kiss
Felicity drifted up from sleep slowly, in pieces.
First she felt the heaviness of her limbs, nestled in thick, soft sheets and a warm comforter, the drag of her overlarge tee shirt and sleep shorts against her skin. Then, more gradually, she became aware of the slow, steady puffs of air against her forehead, the weight of an arm nestled in the dip of her waist, and the radiating warmth close from head to toe.
Her brow twitched, consciousness bringing disorientation and confusion, lips pulling down in a little frown. Felicity’s lashes fluttered, her eyes slowly focusing on the shapes in front her.
Slowly, so slowly, the sight resolved into a male chest, clad in a white tank shirt, dark chest hair peeking up at the neckline as the chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm. She blinked slowly, tension slowly beginning to climb up her spine as she muddledly pushed back against her sleep-shrouded brain for memories of last night—of why there was a man in her bed.
And who the man was.
Simple solution, Smoak. Look up.
Felicity followed her own sensible advice and shifted her cheek against the sheet, tilting her head back to take in—Tommy Merlyn.
She blinked, brows curving in and up as she took him in; lips softly parted, a little dry, the slightest hint of morning stubble darkening his jaw, brow smooth and lashes thick, dark crescents on his cheekbones. The arm that wasn’t propped on her waist and draped along the small of her back was tucked up under his head, disappearing beneath the pillows.
Pillows that weren’t hers.
And it hit her all at once that Tommy wasn’t in her bed; she was in his.
She hadn’t meant to fall asleep in here. She was crashing at Tommy’s while her townhome was being fumigated. She’d gotten in kind of late last night at the end of a long, generally frustrating day. Tommy’s bedroom door had already been closed, so she’d assumed he was asleep.
She’d changed into pajamas, brushed her teeth and washed her face in the bathroom across the hall from the guest room she was using, and then gloriously stubbed her toe on a hall table on her way out.
The thump and muttered swearing had drawn Tommy out of his bedroom in pajama pants and a vest shirt to find Felicity on the floor in the dark, tears in her eyes.
He’d invited her into his bedroom to talk about what had gone so wrong with her day—he swore he hadn’t been asleep yet, but she wasn’t sure she believed him—and they’d sat against his headboard, venting annoyances for more than an hour.
Clearly, they’d managed to fall asleep in pretty much that very position.
Although they’d definitely shifted some in the night. Felicity realized quite abruptly that her left knee was tucked between Tommy’s, and gently eased it free, fire burning in her cheeks. She’d come in here last night to vent with a friend, and she was sure Tommy hadn’t signed up for pajama cuddling when he’d offered her his guest room for four days.
She valiantly squashed the part of her that reveled in the simple physical closeness and comfort, something she’d always felt a bit starved of and longed for in her few close relationships. However, she always worried her tactile neediness was off-putting, and strove to strike a wobbly balance.
She’d pretty clearly tipped onto the “too much” side of that line sometime in the night—nevermind the part of her that wouldn’t mind a little more closeness, of a less platonic physical nature.
It’d been too damn long.
Swearing under her breath on that inappropriate thought, Felicity pulled her arms into her chest and experimentally wiggled backward a little, hoping to slip out of the bed without having to wake poor Tommy.
This backfired immediately.
Tommy’s arm twitched where it lay in the dip of her waist, her movement jogging at him as she scooted back a couple of inches on the mattress. With a sudden, muffled groan, his palm flattened against the small of her back and he hauled her back toward him, simultaneously rolling so that she was pulled into his warmth and his body half covered hers, one of his legs crossing over her knees and his torso snuggling against the length of her own body.
He nosed sleepily at her collarbone and she let out a little squeak, stiff beneath him and unsure what to do. Wake him? Embarrassing, really embarrassing, but what else could she do? Try to go back to sleep?
Tommy’s hips shifted to settle more comfortably against her thigh and Felicity felt herself flush from head to toe. Yeah, no, going back to sleep was definitely not an option.
Felicity lifted her hand, pushing back the edge of the bedcovers and tentatively tapping at Tommy’s bare shoulder, hoping to wake him gently. “Tommy.”
"Mmm," he hummed groggily, sounding anything but aware. His nose brushed against her neck, followed by a soft, sloppy press of lips to her shoulder.
Felicity sucked in a sharp breath and froze. What?
"Mmmf," he murmured, kissing higher on her neck now. The hand that had been curled around her left side squeezed a little, and Felicity swallowed hard. Tommy shifted against her, shoulders lifting up to bring their faces even. His eyes were still closed. "Good morning."
And then he kissed her, right on the mouth.
It was a soft, lingering press, unbearably tender, his slightly dry lips enfolding her bottom one. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips before they parted from hers, the tip brushing her mouth and making her gasp, a curl of heat snaking down into her belly.
Her hands landed awkwardly on his shoulders, not pushing him away, just bracing there. “Tommy. Wake up.”
She watched his brow furrow and his lashes flutter as he pulled away from her face. His eyes blinked open, clear and blue—confused, and startled. “Felicity?”
She didn’t know what she looked like, unexpected beneath him in his bed with a flush blazing up her neck into her face—and no doubt her hair a crazy, tangled mess. She winced as he leveraged himself onto his elbow, blinking rapidly as he glanced down at the position they were in.
"We fell asleep," she blurted awkwardly. "Last night, when we were talking. I’m—I’m really sorry."
Tommy glanced back at her face, wincing and slowly easing his weight off of her, the tips of his ears turning bright pink. “I—wha—you're sorry? Felicity, I’m pretty sure I just sexually assaulted you in my sleep, why are you apologizing?”
He slid a couple of inches away and sat up, propping his weight on one arm to look at her as he uncomfortably scrubbed his free hand back through his bed-tousled hair. Felicity sat up herself, wrinkling her nose both at the characterization of their little mishap as sexual assault—and at the thought that he looked really good in the morning light, hair a mess and vest shirt riding up to reveal a slice of stomach above the blanket at his hips.
"Because—I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in here, I’m sorry, that was—really rude of me to inconvenience you like that, and you’ve already been so nice to me by letting me stay here instead of at some hotel with their creepy sheets and bathtubs—"
"Felicity." Tommy shot her a deadpan stare, and she inhaled.
"—and I really wouldn’t say you sexually assaulted me. I—really wouldn’t."
She cringed at herself and pushed her hair back from her face, quickly scooting to the edge of the mattress and throwing her legs over. She glanced back at Tommy apologetically.
"Okay," he drawled slowly, eyeing her with an unfamiliar expression. "So we’re… not going to talk about how I just kissed you good morning?”
Felicity forced a little smile, and hoped it didn’t look as sad as the little pang that shot through her chest. “What’s to talk about? You were half-asleep and not expecting someone else to be in your bed. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me you were dreaming about. So. It’s no big deal.”
She nodded as if saying it could make it so, and stood, tugging her shirt into order as she stepped towards the door. “I should—go to my own room. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at breakfast.”
She made a quick escape, and Tommy was left staring, a little blown away, at the door she closed softly behind her.
"…But it was you.”
I hope that’s a good reaction.
I’m slamming my face into the computer screen; how could that be a bad reaction?
Well, that seems painful! Pain isn’t good?
Pain is always good. I don’t trust fictional characters who don’t cause me pain.
I think we just might have an unhealthy relationship with fictional characters, dear.