by thy gracious self

i really, really loved this scene when i wrote it originally, but felt like there was something missing. i thought about it for a long while and added some more to it last night, and i think it's getting there. but it's new, so i'm still not sure. :) after the last scene, Marc tells Dakota that he's basically going to become her shadow to insure that nothing bad happens to her again. he feels insane with guilt for assuming she was out of the flaming shack when she was actually still trapped inside. so he's following her everywhere, despite her obvious embarrassment, because as he says, "I cannot lose you. It would be too much to bare.” so, this scene follows when it's time to go to bed. enjoy!

Ten minutes later we were standing in his bedroom glaring at each other with our arms folded firmly across our chests.
“You are not sleeping in that chair,” I said through gritted teeth. He crossed to the chair next to the window and sat down, pulling a blanket over his chest.
“Watch me,” he said, closing his eyes.
“You are being completely absurd!” I stomped my foot.
“That may be, but just for a little while until I can make sure that you’re safe, you’d better get used to me here.” He gave a dramatic yawn and sat still.
I stomped over to the light switch, slammed it off, and threw myself under the covers without another word. I seethed into the darkness for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I thought about what he had said in the living room. He had seemed incredibly pained and guilty about what had happened in the fire. Still, there was certainly no need to follow me around and baby-sit me. But how would I feel if the roles were reversed? I tried to picture myself pacing the edge of a burning house where I knew Marc was trapped inside. The image flooded my mind of his face twisted in pain, choking on smoke, the bright flames lapping at his white blonde hair. The idea caused my heart to throb painfully against my ribs. I sighed and rolled over to look at him. He was in the same position, his hair gleaming beautifully in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. My heart accelerated in my chest and I turned over, pinching my eyes shut.
Every time that I felt myself drifting near sleep, Marc would toss loudly in his chair, readjusting himself. After nearly an hour of this, I was feeling tired and very guilty at his obvious discomfort. He yawned and shifted in the chair. I held my breath for a moment, gathering courage, and then scooted to the edge of the bed, against the wall.
“Just get in,” I sighed in his direction, my voice shaking a little.
“What?!” I heard the blanket slide to the floor.
“Get in bed, you’ll never get any sleep in that chair.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“I... it’s... you don’t have to do that...” He sounded embarrassed.
“Marc, please. You’ll be cranky if you stay awake all night.”
“I... ok...” He got up and walked to the edge of the bed, blocking out the moonlight. He stood there for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I pulled the blanket back for him. “I can sleep on top of the covers, if you’d like,” he whispered.
“It’s cold,” I said. I felt immediately embarrassed by how rejected I felt. He was quiet.
“Dakota, are you sure it’s alright?” I couldn’t make out the feelings behind his voice.
“Yes,” I said, almost soundlessly. He waited for a moment and then climbed in.
We both laid there awkwardly for a long time, the sides of our bodies pressed up against each other, staring at the ceiling. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. I took a deep breath and he sighed. He shifted uncomfortably, brushing his bare feet against mine.
“You’re feet are freezing!” he said, startled.
“They’re always like that,” I whispered. He rubbed the soles of his feet against my toes.
“Better?” he asked after a minute.
“Yes,” I breathed. He took his feet away. The silence stretched on. I took another deep breath. Suddenly, I could feel his body shaking with silent laughter. I blushed, sure that I had done something already to embarrass myself.
“What? What’s funny?” I asked him.
“This is so wonderfully awkward!” he choked.
“I’m glad you’re having such a great time,” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” he said, catching his breath. “It’s not very often that I lie in bed with a woman, I don’t exactly know the protocol for this.”
“Oh, and I do?!” My face was hot.
“Don’t you?” he asked seriously.
“No!” I almost yelled. He chuckled again.
“Fair enough,” he said, and we were quiet again. “Really, Dakota, it’s alright. I’ll go back to the chair,” he said after a long time.
“No, it’s ok.” I didn’t want him to go.
“You don’t have to feel guilty.” He shifted as if to climb out of the bed. Without thinking, I rolled onto my left side and held him in place with my right arm around his waist. He froze. I put my head down on his chest, always forgetting when he was far away how wonderful he smelled. “You don’t really want me here,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I breathed into his neck, “I do.” He shivered. After a moment, he rolled toward me and pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. He was so warm that I felt instantly comforted, hardly afraid at all. He rubbed my back slowly and I nestled my face deeper into his warmth. He chuckled again, his chest rumbling against my body.
“What?” I whispered.
“I know that this means something different to me than it does to you,” I could hear him smiling, “but I’m not sure that I care at the moment. If you’re leading me on, feel free to do it forever.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re wonderful,” he whispered into my hair. He reached down and took my hand, twining his fingers between mine. He held our hands up in front of him, examining them in the moonlight. He traced shapes and swirls along my skin with his thumb, breathing evenly. "Your skin is incredibly soft," he whispered against the darkness. I smiled and nuzzled the warm skin of his neck with the tip of my nose. He shivered again, so I stopped.
"Does that tickle?" I asked, feeling embarrassed that I couldn't return any affectionate gesture correctly. He chuckled.
"Not exactly. I have... a neck thing."
"A neck thing?" I laughed with him.
"You're mocking me!" he cried in fake horror. He turned toward me and slid his face down my hair until his skin touched my neck. I could feel his warm breath along my collar bone. His lips moved against my skin.
"You're telling me this does nothing?" he murmured. I tried to lay perfectly still, suppressing the twisting of my stomach and the racing of my heart. I failed, trembling slightly. He pulled away quickly, dropping my hand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, "that was inappropriate."
"I really didn't mind," I choked.
"I have trouble, being this close to you," he whispered. I opened my mouth, but closed it again, unsure of how to respond. After a second I reached out and took his hand again. He squeezed it for a long moment. I pulled myself closer to him and he wrapped his arms around me once more. A comfortable silence filled the darkness.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so comfortable,” I said, wishing I could squeeze myself closer to him somehow, “I don’t know if I’ll ever move.”
“Stay forever,” he breathed into my ear. I meant to say something to him, but I was asleep before I even realized that I was tired.