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[Saul was up before her this morning, bitten by the motivational new year bug that seems to get him every January first — go out, go jog, do something useful that doesn't involve being in the house and-slash-or office. He'd kissed her goodbye while she was still asleep, one light press of his lips to her temple, and left a note just in case: Out for the morning. See you when you get home. ♥, S.

So he's not expecting to see her in bed when he returns home, noisily making his way into the bedroom (read: singing something by Journey) to change into a suit.

He falls silent the moment he catches sight of Mike snoozing atop the lump under the covers, hands dropping to his sides.]

Steph?

[At some point she got up just to grab her ipod, so she's got headphones in and is listening to the assortment of classical music she's got. But it's turned down low enough that she still hears Saul coming in, especially when he's singing.

In the interest of not worrying him, she keeps her tone light, though she also stays buried under the covers.]

Hey, baby.

Hey. You okay?

[Maybe she's not feeling well.

...maybe it's her period?

He abandons his plan of changing and instead steps out of his shoes, moving to perch on the edge of the bed and rest his hand on what he thinks (hopes) is her shoulder.]

It's been a year.

[She's sure he can fill in the gaps; she's sure he probably could have figured it out himself, since it's not like she's made a secret of how long she's been in this world.

With a sigh, and a mumbled apology to Mike, she wriggles out from under the covers, turned to face Saul, and she manages a small, rueful smile.]

[Ah.

Saul waits, silently, as Steph moves and Mike repositions herself on the foot of the bed. And he swears he can feel that smile coming, because he knows before it's there that he doesn't want to see it.

It hurts. It hurts because he knows she's hurting, and she's trying to cover it up, and he doesn't want her to feel like she has to do that.

In response, he cups her chin and draws her in for a quick, soft kiss.]

[She sighs against the kiss, sitting up so he doesn't have to lean down too much.]

I'm okay.

[It's just... homesickness; she'll be fine.]

I know.

[He doesn't really believe that, though, which is why he follows it up with:]

Mind if I be okay with you?

That was a weird sentence.

[Just so he's aware, though she smiles again (a little more genuine this time) and nods.]

I don't mind.

English is weird.

[Abandoning his post for the moment, Saul moves to the other, slightly more unoccupied side of the bed, then slips beneath the covers and immediately drapes one arm over Steph's middle.]

Hey.

[While he does that, she winds the cord of her earbuds around her ipod and sets it on the nightstand, and by the time he's draping an arm over her, she's settled with her head back on the pillow, facing Saul.]

I think we already did that bit.

[She's trying to keep things light and playful, not because she doesn't want him to worry, but it's just easier than wallowing.]

Yeah, but that was out there. Not in here.

[Like their bed is somehow located on a different plane of reality.

(For all the happiness and safety he feels while in it, it might as well be.)]

Oh, of course. How silly of me.

[Saul r u drunk]

Duh.

[He's not drunk; he's just being goofy. That seems to cheer her up, so he wriggles a little closer and bumps his nose against hers.]

Were you sleeping?

[It does cheer her up.]

Just listening to music.

[She'd briefly considered watching a movie, but she has too many Disney films and she's not that masochistic.]

Anything good?

[Teasing.

...mostly.]

Ballet symphonies.

[Because why not.

She misses the grand piano in Wayne Manor.]

Oh.

[He sounds surprised, but not in a bad way.]

Is this where you tell me you used to do ballet?

[And she just rolls her eyes at him.]

I just like the music, it's good for patrolling.

[Not that she makes playlists of fight music for patrol or anything.

But she does.]

Oh, so what you're actually telling me is that you beat up criminals to the sweet sounds of The Nutcracker.

[Wait wait WAIT — ]

Or is it the sound of nut-cracking you enjoy more?

[She just - stares at him.]

Get out of my bed.

[She won't put up with jokes that terrible.]

[He laughs.]

Since when is it your bed?

I pay the rent, pretty sure that makes it my bed.

[just saying]

[Oh.

That actually shuts him up.

whoops]

[She sighs, then leans in for an apology kiss.]

I'm just teasing, McGill.

[He looks sheepish, drawing back once the kiss is broken. Saul doesn't want to make this about him.]

I know.

[Another bump of noses.]

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I didn't sign up for this

then why is your name on the VIP list?

take it off

cue funky 70s porno music

OH MY gOD

good afternoon ma'am did you order this pizza

NO I DONT WANT IT

are you sure? one pizza with extra babe?

i'm not even dignifying that with a response

but we even made it extra hot for you just like you wanted /STRIPS

PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON I'M CALLING YOUR MOTHER

NOT IF I CALL HER FIRST

wh

yeah that's right