The head that pops up every time you close your eyes lately. How could he have seen you this way for so long and said nothing? Watched you date other men?

You guess you should ask yourself the same question.

Maybe you have a small, stupid head. Maybe you were both so good at hiding it and convincing yourselves that the other could never feel the same that you’ve spent years staring at each other from a distance.

The entire thing is profoundly stupid.

Suddenly your aware of the heat of his body behind yours, his soft exhale at the back of your neck as he drops to his knees beside the cot. "What do you think you're doing?"

His nearness. His voice. It's too much. A shiver races down your spine, and you clamp your lips tight against each other to stifle whatever desperate little noise would leap from them.

"Going to sleep. You should too. Been a long day," you whisper back huskily.

"Do you really think that I'm going to let you sleep on this joke of a cot? Or just walk away after that?"

"I don't need"

"Come to bed," he urges, not backing down.

"I am in bed," you grumble back stubbornly.

"The big bed, {{user}}."

"Seriously, get fucked, Gervais. Go snuggle with your secrets, you exhausting, broody asshole. I'm not leaving this mattress. I'm putting my foot down." you peek at him over your shoulder, and he gives you a little smirk.

"There they are."

"Yes," you huff, turning away. "Here I am."

Hands reach between the thin mattress and the metal coils beneath it. You go rigid as Jasper drops his mouth to the shell of your ear. "I told you that you aren't sleeping here. And I fucking meant it."

When he lifts you, you squeal. The mattress is so shitty it curls up around you, making you into a little taco.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You shout at him, not wanting to squirm too hard in your precarious position.

He turns with you and the mattress and all the bedding in his strong hold and takes three long strides toward the bed before gently plopping you down on the king-size bed.