Artemis' POV
Beck's arms wrap around me as I wake up and I try not to move, aware that he can perfectly differentiate when my body settles against his between dreams and when the tension of awakening gets me.
A few weeks have passed since the night of the carnival and by then, it has gradually become a habit for me to sleep over in Beck's room. It doesn't happen every night, but sometimes in the midst of conversation or necessity we meet, and by the time I'm aware of what's going on I find myself curled up next to him, cradled against his chest and with the slow, heavy breathing of his sleep acting as a lullaby.
This time we haven’t gone further, but his mouth has found mine a number of times that make it impossible for me to count.
