Note: I have a lot of bigger ideas floating around, but I wanted to write a short post-ep. This is stream of consciousness Annie.
Note 2: I don't think I can possibly get another title out of my favorite Shakespeare quote. I think I have a story that uses it in every fandom I've written in.
Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.- Measure for Measure, William Shakespeare.
In the darkness of her bedroom, Annie lay propped up on her elbow watching the outline of Auggie's back rise and fall, rise and fall, in the steady breath of sleep. There was just enough light trickling through the window from the moon and the streetlights for her to make out his tattoo in the middle of the well-defined muscles. The urge struck to trace it with her fingertips, but she resisted. Better to let him sleep. There would be plenty of time for more of that. As it was, the clock read 4 am, and they'd gotten maybe an hour and a half of sleep.
Annie couldn't fall back asleep this time though. Her mind was racing as with the events of the day as she watched Auggie sleep in her bed beside her. The day had started out fairly ordinary: paperwork and lots of it. The usual return from a mission abroad. The declassification ceremony wasn't ordinary, but it wasn't nearly as incredible as the two huge—HUGE—turns of events that the day had ended with. She wasn't sure which of the two was weighing on her mind more.
The file from Henry Wilcox filled her with dread. She hadn't yet figured out his motive, and that made her nervous. As he expected, the contents of the file made her angry—very angry. But from the little interaction she'd had with him, she knew that Henry Wilcox was an opportunist, and was likely counting on that anger. Should she have accepted the mission? What seemed like the right thing to do sitting there in that diner was seeming less and less like a good idea. She needed to give the file a good, thorough reading. Auggie's arrival had interrupted her first attempt at that.
She was still a little overwhelmed at all that had happened since he arrived. She hadn't seen it coming. No, she had. Sort of. There were lots of little hints, looking back. Something had been eating at him for a while, ever since she was in Russia—no, since right before she left, on that car ride to the airport…maybe earlier? She wasn't sure. She had been so caught up in her own mess that she'd ignored everything else going on around her.
It was only a few days earlier, in Amsterdam that she'd gotten a sense for just how strongly he cared for her. And he had come very close to finally getting into something big on that boat. She hadn't missed how frustrated he was when that phone call from Langley came in. He was her rock through everything on that trip—he really was quite good in the field, despite his limitations. And he had her back even when he didn't agree with her.
Then he asked her out to dinner. In a way that sounded so much like a real date it made her giddy. For the rest of the plane ride she had to tell herself not to read too much into it, that it wasn't really a date. Now, of course, it was clear he had been asking her out on a real date. She made a mental note to ask him if they were still on for Friday at 8.
The file from Henry Wilcox lay on the small table she'd tossed it to when Auggie came over—she had moved the file from the bed, so maybe her subconscious knew that's where they were headed. It hadn't taken long for them to end up there. Neither of them had a history of taking it slow in relationships. Maybe they should have proceeded more carefully, but really the intimacy—sexual intimacy, because they were already fairly intimate with each other as friends—was the only thing missing from their relationship. True, there were a lot of tricky feelings involved and a lot of talking to be done, but they hadn't done any of that tonight. Tonight was about getting to know each other on a purely physical level.
He stirred beside her, curling onto his side facing her. Annie lowered herself off her elbow, lying next to him and taking his hand. His arm wrapped around her waist, and she pressed her forehead to his chest, sliding her knee between his. She paused for a moment to see if he'd woken, but it didn't seem like he had. His breath was still even. She closed her eyes. Maybe sleep would come now that she was wrapped in the cocoon of his arms.
He was a more playful lover than she'd expected. It didn't surprise her that he was very tactile. He took great pleasure in touching her as much as he could. That made sense, touch was how he experienced the world. But the touches were often playful. He'd discovered her ticklish spots—the ones he didn't already know—quickly, and had great fun making her squeal and squirm. Like most everything else in their friendship, the sex had come easily, and with lots of laughter.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
"Not this time," she told him, burrowing closer to him.
"Everything okay?" He ran the heel of his hand up and down the bare skin of her back.
"Mmmhmm," she purred. It was very distracting when he touched her like that.
He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "Really though."
"Just a lot of …new," she shrugged. She couldn't tell him about the file, she didn't want to draw him into another of her messes, though he always ended up drawn in whether she wanted him to be or not. "And unexpected."
"Was it?" he asked curiously.
"Somewhat," she answered. "At that moment, unexpected. Looking back, less so."
"Yeah, I was pretty fucking obvious sometimes," he chuckled. "It kept getting in the way. I started worrying too much."
"You've always worried. You just don't like to admit it," she teased him. "And it wasn't super obvious," she laughed. "I get kind of caught up in myself…"
"You focus on the tree and lose sight of the forest." She smiled. A very true analogy. After a silence, he asked, "But you're not freaked out by this, right?"
"Freaked out? No." she assured him. A little nervous, maybe. She really, really didn't want to fuck this up. He meant too much to her.
"Why does there have to be a but?"
"I meant to talk a little more…before we just…" he said sheepishly.
"We will," she told him. "Just not right now. Somehow I don't think lying in bed naked at 4 am is the best time for a serious heart to heart."
"Then what is the best choice for lying in bed naked at 4 am?" he asked with a grin, running his thumb along the inside of her hip bone.
"Ah!" she squealed, batting his hand away from that very ticklish spot. She slid up and captured his lips with hers. "What did you have in mind?"