Vala's head is heavy in my lap, her hair and breath tickling my arm. There's an entire ship, and she takes a nap on top of me. Mitchell snickers when he ducks his head into the cargo bay, Sam is silenced by my glare, but it is Teal'c's pointedly raised eyebrow that heats my cheeks. Damn them. Damn her.
She shifts in her sleep, lips opening slightly, breath expelling in a soft sigh. Her skin is pale, like the coffee creamer Sam pours into her mocha-blend. A strand of dark hair shifts over her face and her nose twitches. Her eyes flicker behind their lids, her upper lip curls in distress; she's pulling out of her peaceful slumber.
Sense dictates I brush the hair off her face—to keep her quiet and asleep. It's practical: if she's asleep she can't proposition me.
But my fingers stay in her hair, gently stroking, until she settles down again, her chest expanding rhythmically in shallow breaths. Vala's lips close, pursing slightly in the memory of a kiss. My hand keeps her hair out of her face because it's logical to keep her asleep.
Though, the hitch and flutter in my chest isn't logical.