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oom: room 25, millitimed to halloween night
Doc leads the way up the stairs to his room, Katherine trailing behind him (because this way, he's not tempted to check her out) and while he's expecting both of their costumes to disappear...they don't. So he opens the door to his room, which has been cleaned up nicely since the last time she was in it.
The bed is made, the weapons are all put away, his desk still looks like a bit of a disaster area (but that's to be expected, given the books and papers and the fact that he's been writing a lot lately) but it's generally a lot better than it was last time.
"I got somethin' you can wear," he tells her. "Let me get it and then I'll run back down and get us somethin' for dinner."
He rifles through the dresser for some drawstring pants, socks, a t-shirt and a button down, all of them getting put on the polished surface, next to those folded paper cranes. "You may have t'roll the sleeves up a bit," he apologizes. "But that should work."
The bed is made, the weapons are all put away, his desk still looks like a bit of a disaster area (but that's to be expected, given the books and papers and the fact that he's been writing a lot lately) but it's generally a lot better than it was last time.
"I got somethin' you can wear," he tells her. "Let me get it and then I'll run back down and get us somethin' for dinner."
He rifles through the dresser for some drawstring pants, socks, a t-shirt and a button down, all of them getting put on the polished surface, next to those folded paper cranes. "You may have t'roll the sleeves up a bit," he apologizes. "But that should work."
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Just when she's about to drift off completely, she rouses herself with a jerk, blinking hard and shifting closer to him.
"Doc?"
Her free hand stretches up, away from their bodies, until her fingers find that short, spiked hair of his.
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"What is it?"
If his head tips a little towards her hand, that's just because he's tired.
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"I'm happy," she murmurs. In case there were any lingering doubts.
"Thank you. For making me feel safe."
Her voice is thick, and as she finishes, it trails off in a soft sigh, before her breathing evens out and her fingers still in his hair.
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"You're welcome."
It's a whisper, and he knows she won't hear it, but it still needs to be said.
She's happy.
With him.
(He knew they'd make this work.)