Author's Notes: The song here is Rhyme and Reason by Adam Pascal. Not mine.

The desperate look in our eyes

Holding onto one another

Her fingers are unpolished, for once, as she digs them into the fleshy underside of his arm. She feels her heart beating with every gasping breath, raising her lips to meet his at odd intervals. She begins kissing him first every few seconds, then falters, waits nearly a minute, and starts up again. Her breath is heavy and fast, uncontrollable; her movements jerky, she maintains none of the grace she does on two feet. The bed is a world of its own, transporting these two individuals and their personalities into another dimension where they are completely and utterly different, and alone.

Holding on for all our lives

Just letting go to discover

Panting, they merely hold each other for a moment, his arms draped around the back of her neck. She rests her palms on the small of his back, planting fast, rushed kisses on the damp, snow-colored shoulder nearest her. Whether it is hers or his, she may never know, but kissing it feels right. And here, so very unlike the world surrounding them during the daylight hours, everything seems to feel right. That may be what they love so much about the bed and its surroundings: the way everything blurs to nothingness apart from them.

That love don't need a reason

Now, filled with fervor and passion beyond that which they have ever felt before, their hands touch. They entwine fingers with one another and let their fists fall to their sides, each one's palm pressing into the other's. They breathe through their mouths impossibly loudly, rickety in breathing just like their robotic movements and throbbing pulses.

And love don't need a rhyme

She clutches at his shoulders, eyes gazing into his own. Sweat trickles down her forehead and down her face; her skin, normally pale, is pink with the strenuousness of her motions.

I'm standing here pleading

Hands trembling, he takes her hand into his own, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses it. It shows just how passionate he is at this moment; having a career that relies on his dexterousness, very rarely do his hands tremble outside of this bed-world.

And you just cover your eyes.

Tilting her neck at a bizarre angle, she presses her lips against his. They separate quickly enough and move their lips away, but it is for several full minutes – which, in this universe, feels like just about an hour – that they remain in this position, foreheads touching with their hands laced together.

I'm standing here pleading, and you just cover your eyes.

Simultaneously, Roger and April's backs hit the mattress. Hair splayed out around the pillows, eyes wild, and skin a shade that closest resembles red, they are quite a sight. The blankets, long abandoned, remain on the floor as the pair falls into their deepest sleep in a long time.

Tomorrow night, Roger will sleep alone.