I do not own Gallagher Girls.

.Sleep.

Cameron Morgan slept like a log.

That was the time she was most vulnerable; locked away in her subconscious, delved into her dreams, when she's brain-dead to the world around her.

Zachary Goode knows this.

Zachary Goode knows this very well.

Because once upon a time, he was bunking in Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women and he couldn't sleep. No matter the four and a half hours he had spent staring at the blank ceiling, sleep wouldn't overtake him. His mind was racing -- with what exactly, he couldn't name.

So he rose to his feet, silent as death. Grant snored onward and Jonas stirred half-heartedly. Slipping out the door without bothering to adorn his feet with shoes, he wandered the hallways for three minutes and forty-two seconds before sighing inaudibly and pivoting on his heel.

Her door was unlocked.

Resisting a grin, he snaked through the unfamiliar, moonlight-illuminated room as silent as a ghost. A blonde curl was visible in the first bed; he carefully picked his way over a chemistry book and passed it by. The next bed was occupied by a snoring brunette, whom Zach tiptoed by extra-quietly. The third bed was an utter disaster area so complete he couldn't even see the inhabitant of the bed.

Last but not least, he stumbled upon where she was curled onto her side, knees tucked up to her chest and arms constricting the pillow tightly. Her eyes were screwed shut and her eyebrows were slightly creased together with a visible worry line.

His tan fingers itched to reach out and brush the chestnut locks from her porcelain skin, but he wouldn't put it past her to wake up and deck him. So he settled for sitting down criss-cross next to where she slept, so that their heads were nearly even.

After approximately fifty-two minutes of listening to her steady breathing, Zach's emerald eyes gleamed and shot up as Cammie's breathing quickened. Her eyes remained closed, however, and he assumed she was dreaming.

Her hand clutched the pillow tighter and she frowned slightly, a finger twitching subtly. Before he knew what he was doing, Zach was threading his fingers with hers and pressing himself against the edge of the bed. Surprised, he kept his eyes glued to her face…

She didn't wake up. Some of the tension left her body as she responded to the light touch, but her hand lay dormant in his. It was warm, however, and Zach couldn't help smiling.

It was twenty-three minutes later that Zach finally got bored.

He was still holding her hand; he hadn't wanted to wake her up by moving. (actually, he just didn't want to move, period, but he wasn't going to admit that to anyone.) But now she had started twitching again, more violently this time. She was sprawled atop the covers, her hair a splattered brunette mess behind her as she coiled into a smaller ball, her hand tightening in his.

Her eyelids twitched and his delicate fingers were there, moving strands of hair from her face to trail his fingertips across her smooth cheek.

She didn't relax. On the contrary, her breathing hitched dangerously and her toes curled in, her ankles twitching consistently. Slightly panicked now, Zach slid to his feet, blinking at her with wide eyes. Cammie whimpered -- a tiny little breath of noise, but he heard it. That little moan of panic, fear lacing the room and sending a pang of despair through him, that crushed any wall he'd ever built against her.

As she began thrashing quietly, he gathered her up in his wiry arms and settled against her pillow with his arms surrounding her like a protective barrier. She remained unconscious, however, and he was astonished that she didn't wake up and murder him. Her head was sagging on his chest now, her legs splayed on the other side of the bed as he stroked her hair. To his utmost relief, her fidgeting ebbed away and left her motionless once more, slipping into a dreamless sleep.

"Mmph," she murmured, her words muffled by Zach's shirt. He froze, heart skipping a beat as he forced himself not to tense up and alert her of his presence…

Cammie's eyes remained shut. Her breathing didn't waver. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, Zach concluded she was still deeply asleep. He smirked.

To his surprise, she wasn't finished sleep-talking quite yet.

"Zach," she mumbled, nearly inaudibly. He blinked -- did she just say my name? -- and tightened his arm around her waist possessively. She was sleep-talking…about him. A slow grin spread across his face as he, slightly smug, captured Cammie's hand in his once again.

Unfortunately, he realized that there was no way he would be able to rise and exit very covertly. Cammie was using him as a pillow -- which he had no objection to -- but which did lead to him to wonder what time it was, exactly.

3:47 A.M.

Zach would have to be out of here by four fifteen -- because who knows how early these Gallagher girls wake up? He couldn't, wouldn't be caught. It would be degrading. But…he didn't want to leave. It was still and quiet, Cammie's rhythmic breathing exceedingly soothing as he restrained from moving the arm still snaked around her waist.

After what could have been eons, or merely heartbeats, of just listening to her breathe in and out, in and out, his head snapped up. Something was wrong; the tone of the silent room had altered. Silent…too silent. "Baxter," he murmured. Her muffled snoring had ceased.

She was looking at him with half-open caramel eyes, a little smile tugging at the corner of her lips from her position of laying under her blankets. He could almost read her thoughts of blackmail and broken hearts, but she merely mumbled a groggy, "G'night, Goode." before rolling over and falling back asleep.

These Gallagher girls never ceased to amaze him.

He'd taken Bex as the one who'd punch his face in if he got within two feet of Cammie -- yet the Brit rolls over and turns a blind eye when he comforts her at 4:17 A.M? Shaking his head, Zach decides it's time to leave. He'd been compromised already by one of Cammie's roommates, he needn't be caught by another -- or worse, Cammie herself.

So he slid the pillow beneath Cammie's head, gently removing his arm from around her and stepping back cautiously. She looked peaceful once more; her eyelids as smooth and soft as flower petals and forehead unbroken with worry lines.

As the side of his lip quirked up in a slow smile, he untangled his tan fingers from her pale, warm hand and stole across the room like a shadow, leaving the room seemingly unchanged.

Zachary Goode wandered back to his dorm and knew he wouldn't sleep a wink tonight.

The next night:

Cammie thought she was hallucinating. Crazy! She chided herself, chuckled nervously in her head, and rolled over to fall asleep. But the words bounced around in her mind:

My pillow smells like him…

Bex Baxter sure has strange dreams.