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Peace is hard for them to come by– the night lingers around them with darkness creeping about, a certain unknown lurking in it that they both know is harmless but their minds don’t stop conjuring images of needle teeth and claws and saws and guns. But they protect themselves with the shields of each other’s arms and blankets that ride up to their chins in the fading winter chill of March. Their swords are the words they whisper to each other when one of them starts shivering and glancing around as if they’re seeing something that’s not there, and Ashley wishes for nothing more than the magic powers that she writes about in her new fantasy novel– powers to blast away anything that would dare come near her or Sam. Normally she’d scoff at such a notion– but she’s been questioning the reality of a lot of things lately. Anyone who wasn’t on the mountain would suggest she see a doctor (which she is doing, thank you very much.) But she’s always kept a list of reals and unreals. Math tests– real. Unicorns– unreal. Puppies– real. Wendigos– they used to be unreal. What else can make its way to her real list? She wants to be able to fight off anything that comes to hurt her– be it men at a party getting too friendly or a werewolf trying to have its next meal.
But now she holds a head of blonde against her chest, an effective blanket burrito surrounding them both and holding off the terrors of the darkness that fades in her room. This is probably one of the more peaceful moments they had. Neither of them were thrashing in a nightmare, there was no howling of the wind outside, neither of them had any appointments to dread tomorrow– it was a bit easier to relax into the comfort of Ashley’s bed. Though, it was obvious that neither of them would sleep yet. Trying to sleep only brought terror behind forcibly closed eyelids– they both learned to simply lie awake until sleep, in its gentler embraces, claims them. A hand is gently threading digits through blonde locks, and Ash can’t help it, she’s always been a bit of a romantic. The redhead pulls just slightly back, enough to look down at Sam but not enough to remove their bodies from each other. Hand removes itself from hair to take a feather light grip on the girl’s chin, lifting it just enough to let Ashley’s head slide down and let lips slot together in a fashion that they were growing more used to now. It’s chaste, careful in her movements before letting lips part after a few moments. She doesn’t say anything– she doesn’t really have anything to say that was important. Neither of them were up for conversation, anyway. Ash just smiles before letting herself pull them back together, chin resting atop the blonde’s head. They don’t try to sleep. It’s around 2 am when Sam finally succumbs. Ash just listens to steady breathing, content with Sam’s lack of a nightmare as she gently falls as well.