Let me clarify one thing before I start ranting: I like waking up with John, I really do, but waking up tied to him by possessed dog tags that seem hellbent on cutting off my air supply? That I donít like.
"What did you do?"
Of course, I know it isnít his fault, no more than itís mine; the damn things just tangled together sometime during the night, and now weíre stuck together - and not in a good way.
"Let me see what I can do..."
I canít pull back enough to see the damn things, so I work by touch, my fingertips brushing against Johnís chest as I ease the chains out of their Gordian knot. The pull of his coarse, curly chest hair distracts me, and I curse as I drop the loose end of the chain, losing it in the midst of the tangle.
John shifts as I reach for it, and I automatically move to stay closer, compensating for that little distance that has sprung up between us. Strange; I was never what you would call a cuddler. I wanted my own space, both physical and emotional, but now - okay, heís spoiled me. Going to sleep without him next to me, curled around me or me curled around him, isnít easy.
Hell, half the time I canít sleep at all if he isnít here, and isnít that a bitch of a thing to admit.
I finally locate the loop of chain Iíve been looking for, but, instead of getting back to work detangling us, I hook it around my finger and settle back against Johnís chest, smiling at his startled interrogation.
"Like it this way," I murmur, moving upward enough to get a bit more tension off our tangled chains. "Just for a little longer, okay?"
Just a little longer, but itíll be enough, to know weíre together, to know heís safe, or as safe as I can keep him anyway.
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