She was so close. So close he could literally stretch his fingers and he'd be brushing her arm. He could feel the heat from her body, hear the whisper of her slow sleep-breathing, sense every twitch and flinch as she flitted between dreams.
Sweet torture, he thought, letting his eyes slide open and his gaze fall upon her unconscious face, the curves and contours bathed in moonlight from the open window. Beautiful.
And she was. She always had been. He couldn't remember a time when she hadn't made his stomach twist with a single smile, when her fingers in his hadn't sent electricity crackling through his body. And now here she was, sleeping right beside him, and he didn't have the faintest idea what the hell he should be doing about it.
Turning over onto his back, Fred sighed heavily, fixing his eyes on the ceiling to go through the notes of the case. They had a note and a meeting-place, and he would have to organise back-up if they were going in alone. He had a feeling Red would prefer it if it was just them, rather than the rest of the state's cops blundering in with them. He had to make sure they were safe- well, had to make sure Daphne was safe. He could hold his own, but she would be more vulnerable, probably not as strong as Red, nor a strong runner like him.
…Daphne, fast asleep next to him, face bare of make-up, looking innocent and beguiling and majestic snuggled beneath his light blue duvet, her whole body angled as though begging him to cuddle her, smoothly-curved lips just open to show a glimpse of even ivory teeth…
He'd have to do some negotiating. Maybe he'd have a radio, a wire, just so anyone outside would be able to track what was going on. He doubted the higher-ups would let him and Daphne get so close to danger without some kind of tracking. If he shot at Daphne, he'd have to be close enough to get in the way. No matter how much she'd yell at him later for it, he would never allow her to come to harm if he was close enough to stop it happening.
His Daphne, one slender arm encased in his football jersey nestled almost against his body, eyelashes flickering as her eyes moved, deep in a dream…
He was a lovesick teenager. No other way of putting it.
And he'd never get any sleep here.
Sliding his legs out of bed, Fred gently shifted his weight onto his feet, making to get up and head to the sofa. It was comfortable enough to spend the night at least, and the way he was going, he'd do something completely stupid and either wake Daphne up or spend the entire night lying awkwardly beside her like a kid. He was Fred Jones, a fully-qualified detective, and just because his chest was aching at the thought of leaving her alone in his bed when he could be holding her didn't mean that he would let his emotions make a fool of him.
Behind him, Daphne mumbled something in her sleep, reaching out towards him, delicate fingers brushing his arm and latching onto it.
Oh wow… her hands are so warm…
Fred stood stock still, only realising when his chest began to burn that he'd forgotten how to breathe.
"Frrred… c'mon, it's late… get back into bed."
Tugging gently on his hand, Daphne tried to pull him back to bed, and with the warmth of her smooth fingers on his, there was only ever going to be one outcome.
Fred sank back down beside her, sliding himself back under the duvet, his eyes tracking her in the dim light as she shifted further towards him, her hand sliding over his chest, one foot brushing against his beneath the covers.
Now or never.
And he slid his arm around her shoulders, a deep sigh breezing out from his chest as Daphne shuffled into his body, pressing herself to him, resting her head on his shoulder as he gazed down on her, unable to tear his gaze away, unable to move, frozen in perfection for this one wonderful second.
A tiny smile on his face, Fred let himself lie back onto the pillows, the last thing he saw being Daphne's moonlight-bathed face before he slid into sleep with her, curled round each other, comfortable and secure.
Mirrors. Mirrors everywhere. Everywhere he looked, he could only see his reflection staring back at him, almost judging himself somehow. The expressionless face stared back at him, ice blue eyes burning into his identical ones. He had to get away; get away.
Suddenly, the image began to contort, twisting before his very eyes. The ice blue turned deeper, more cobalt in colour.
"No..." he breathed, trying to run away but only to find himself staring at the same image. The sweatpants were replaced with black, work trousers, and a blue shirt with black tie morphed over his previously bare chest.
He was finding it hard to breathe, wanting to tear his gaze away but at the same time being transfixed by what was happening to the reflection. As he glanced at his face, wrinkles had appeared in his previously young skin, accompanied by scars and finally a moustache.
He gasped. The mirror was reflecting an image of his father.
Run. Run fast and don't look back.
So he did, he took off, tearing down the mirrored corridors, only to see his father staring at him wherever he turned.
"You can't run from me, Fred. You can never escape the past..." a voice echoed, and Fred collapsed to his knees, burying his head in his hands.
"No! I'm not like you, I'll never be like you..." he shouted, tears streaming from his eyes as he sat up. The voice laughed menacingly, causing Fred to cry out in frustration.
"You can't escape me, Fred. I live in you. As long as you keep running, I'll always be here. Watching... waiting..."
Fred roared in fury, punching his father's reflection with all of his might. The mirror shattered, and like a shockwave, the entire structure exploded with amazing force. Fred collapsed, his tears flooding the floor as the shards fell onto his lifeless body, one by one...
Fred's eyes snapped open, his breath hitching in his throat as he lay motionless underneath the covers. Sitting up slowly, he stared down at his hands, his eyes wide and anxious. Daphne stirred beside him, mumbling sleepily as she realised he wasn't holding her in his arms. Fred didn't seem to notice, breathing heavily and running his hands through his hair.
His father. The one man Fred never wanted to be. But what did the dream mean? He was so confused.
"Are you alright?" Daphne's gentle voice brought him back down to Earth, and he sighed when he felt her hands on his bare back, softly caressing the toned muscles and shoulder blades. She was sitting beside him, her head leant on his shoulder as they both stared into the darkness of the room. Fred closed his eyes, suddenly feeling the need to cry.
No, crying means showing emotion. You don't do that, remember?
"I..." he paused, thinking of the correct response to her question. She looked up at him with concern, her hands now at the nape of his neck and gently massaging the short strands of blonde hair that grew there.
Goodness, she was so caring towards him. He almost felt obliged to offer her care in return. Hell, he would still look after her even if she was a total bitch towards him. Because he needed her. It was quite pathetic when he thought about it.
"Bad dream?" she asked, and he found himself nodding. She was a detective, after all.
"Yeah... I guess..." he replied, and she smiled.
"Forget about it for now, you need some sleep," she whispered, removing her hand from his neck and instead moving it down to hold his own. He squeezed her hand lightly, wondering if it would be possible to stay like this forever.
"I wish I could..." he sighed, and she leant back, her head resting on the pillow with their hands still linked. He turned to look at her, and she was smiling back at him. How he loved that smile.
"C'mon," she said, patting the space beside her with her free hand. Slowly, he laid back down again, pulling the covers back over their bodies as they huddled together.
"...night, Daph," he whispered, and she grinned.
"Night, Freddie," she replied, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again, "Tomorrow's going to be exciting, right?"
Fred chuckled, leaning his forehead on hers.
"Yeah, it will be. We'll catch Red, and that'll be the end of it," he smiled, and she nodded.
Fred leant in to kiss her cheek, but as he did Daphne shifted slightly against the pillow. Fred's lips lightly grazed her own, and both of their eyes snapped open in shock and surprise. Pulling away, he gazed into her eyes as she gazed back. The look in her eyes, he couldn't describe it. Sad? Confused? Lust? All he knew was at that moment, he didn't want to anything else apart from kiss her.
So he did.
Cupping her head with his hands, he pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss. She kissed back, her eyes closed as she savoured the experience. Fred smiled, and almost as if she had felt it, she smiled also.
Pulling away, he continued to smile and pulled her into his body, holding her in his arms like before. She sighed contently, feeling as secure as she had in a long time.
"Good night, Daphne," he whispered, and her smile widened.
"Good night, Fred."
Aw :3 Aren't they sweet? :D And what a dream, huh? Freaky... Big thanks to Jazzola (again!) for helping me with this chapter, and this story in general! She is the very talented writer who wrote the first part of this chapter up until the dream sequence. You rock, buddy! Berty congratulates you on being awesome ;D Please review, and tell me what your favourite moment of Blake and Jones has been so far! Adios, amigos!