Rafe was sick. Very, very, sick. He couldn't get over the cold. It was winter in the OBX, so it wasn't surprising.

He sat in darkness while you were away working during the day, watching old movies or just sleeping. He hated this. But what he hates most of all was not being around you.

He told you to stay away because he didn't want you to get sick because of him. He had been doing everything himself for the past few days. God, he was touch starved.

So when you came home that after noon, he walked over to you, got in his knees, and wrapped his arms around your legs. He looked up at you with tired eyes and physical pain from being away from you.