He had returned just as he’d said he would. He had returned and sat nearly in the same spot that he had before, at Angel’s feet. Why was he doing that? He didn’t have to sit on the floor. There was a perfectly good chair he could use if it was a matter of not being comfortable that close. Somehow, Angel knew that it wasn’t that he wanted distance, in fact quite the opposite. It had been something else. Every time he drew close, every touch Angel gave, he leaned closer still and would close his eyes. His expression, it was enough to make Angel forget how to breath. This... on the floor crap had to stop. Perhaps Dallieh wasn’t interested in him as an object, like most people were, and the only contact and closeness they ever shared would be nothing more than simple innocent devotion. Angel felt like Dallieh was placing himself there, on a lower level, on purpose. It might even be something he was used to but...

Angel slid off the bed and hit the floor a little bit harder than he’d meant to. He hadn’t even realized it, but one graceful inked hand had reached out to steady him. He would have hit far harder. He smiled sheepishly before looking up, one hand on his book and the other pushing against the floor, righting himself. The bar from the daybed was digging into his back when he tried to lean against it. This was just... horrible. How had he sat this way and been able to read?

Angel took a great breathy sigh. He had to give it a go, even just for a little while, just to prove his point. He pushed himself up a little more trying to cross one of his feet under himself to get more comfortable. He hadn’t even been sitting that way for five seconds before he had to squirm again. He glared at his book. Then at the man who sat so still beside him. The lamplight shone through his hair, giving it the feeling of fire. The places where the lamp didn’t touch, the shadows that played upon his features, were cast in blue. He looked like a statue, perfect and pure, until a small smile crossed his lips. He was amused by Angels discomfort.

Angel put his bookmark in his book and set it on the floor beside him. Then, before he could give it another thought, he got a wicked smirk on his face and flopped into Dallieh’s lap. He looked up at him with big green swirling eyes and a playful expression, despite the faintest touch of evil in his smile.

“I don’t know how ya can read down here.” He slowly curled himself so that his cheek rested on Dallieh’s stomach while the rest of his head was supported in the round basin of his hips and thighs. “Yanno, it’s much more comfy up there.”

Angel let his eyes stray to the surface of the bed, the blankets, the pillows, with this lost yearning for them. Then he looked back at Dallieh. Now his amusement was so much more than subtle.

“Oh you think it’s funny to be uncomfortable, huh?” Angel let his own smile broaden as Dallieh’s finger crossed his lips halting his words.

“Would you like to sit on the bed, Angel?”

“Well, if you insist, but only if I can stay in your lap.” He’d been joking. He thought he had been joking, but when they moved back to the soft comfort of the blankets and pillows just above them, he flopped right back into Dallieh’s lap. Dallieh went back to reading as though it were the way it had always been. His free hand smoothed Angel’s long dark hair and a contented expression relaxed his features. Angel realized he had left his book on the floor. He closed his eyes. It was so comfortable to be here like this with him.

He found himself looking up at the man he lay upon, his eyes barely open. Dallieh’s countenance hadn’t changed. It was something else. It was as though this was how it was supposed to be. Angel had to touch him, had to know what he was seeing. So slowly, so very slowly, he reached up and touched his lips. They parted, as though to draw a breath that never came. His skin was so cool and soft beneath Angel’s touch. Why was it that despite his differences, that he was somehow not quite human, his face held more substance in Angel’s hand than any other man’s that he had touched. He closed his eyes and Angel fought the urge to rise and kiss him. Maybe he would. Maybe he should. Instead he smiled and allowed his fingers to trail along the soft side of his cheek. Now the hand that smoothed his hair gently brushed it away from his face as Dallieh looked down at him and smiled.

“Is this better?” His tone was warm and Angel felt like some part of him was slowly melting.

“Yeah, D... it’s fine.”

He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until he spooked awake. Dallieh had spooked awake himself just a moment before and it had been his jump that had woken Angel. His book was placed to the side of them and it looked as though he hadn’t gotten very much further in it. What had woken him so suddenly. The room was bright and Angel blinked trying to figure out what was wrong. He looked up worriedly at the man he lay upon. What had startled him? It was pain. It wasn’t the kind of pain he was used to seeing in those eyes, but some kind of physical pain.

“What’s wrong?”

“I should have left. It’s too late. I have to change.” He could see that Angel didn’t understand. He could see that elegant brow furrow asking the question that had just left his lips a second time more silently. Dallieh squirmed. He didn’t want him to see what had woken him. He had no choice. He held up his hand. two of his fingers were burned, not as badly as they could have been, but badly enough that Angel got a momentary look of panic. “The light...”

Angel craned looking at the window. The sun never came the entire way across the bed but it had touched where the book lay. If Dallieh had been pressed against the wall and covered in a blanket he might have been fine, but this way, with Angel’s head cradled in his lap, he’d been defenseless. He smiled, just the faintest hint of a smile down at him before tucking his injured limb out of sight. It was bittersweet and made some part of Angel ache so very much.

“I have to go.”

“I’m sorry...” Angel sat up and turned leaning his full weight on one of his arms. His other hand traced one of the delicate tattoos that were on the wrist of his uninjured hand.

“No sorries. I wanted to be here. I...” He changed before even finishing his sentence. Angel reached forward and touched the graceful rise, the soft black feathers that glinted in the sunlight in so many colors, of his back. The bird hopped from the bed to the table and unsettled his wings.

“You don’t hav’ta go. You can stay if ya want to.” Now he jumped back to the bed so quickly that Angel had to force himself not to flinch. He walked over to Angel’s free hand and practically did a somersault into his open fingers. Angel couldn’t help but smile. Even though he knew that Dallieh was still going to leave, to hop back to the table and fly out the window, he smiled and rubbed his face against a soft wing and gently kissed a black feathered head. Maybe soon he would stay. Maybe soon.