"I know I said you could stay over whenever you want, but…" Lightning scratched the back of her head, hesitating for a moment. "Hope, my couch is pretty damn uncomfortable. Why do you keep coming here?"

Hope shrugged. "Your place is closer to work. Saves time."

He grabbed a blanket and a pillow from her closet and placed them on the couch before lying down. He'd already changed into a tank top and his sleeping sweatpants, taken from the drawer in her bureau that had somehow become his. His button-down shirt and slacks lay neatly folded on the small ironing board squeezed in between the closet and the bureau. If it weren't for him and his damn shirts, she wouldn't even have owned an ironing board. Things were getting out of hand.

"Hope. Come on. Cut the crap." She crossed her arms. "Is there something wrong with your apartment?"

"You're not there."

Lightning blinked. She wasn't sure what she'd expected him to answer, but that definitely wasn't it. "What?"

"That's what's wrong with my apartment. You're not there." He gave her a smile, kind but with a hint of sharpness in it—a smile she usually interpreted as I'm exhausted, you're silly, and I'm way too done with everything to sugarcoat things for your convenience.

"So you're staying here, because…"

"Because you're here." He draped the blanket over himself and closed his eyes. "Less nightmares. More sleep. Good for work."

"Good for work. Of course." She paused, unsure what to say. "Well… goodnight, then."

His lips twitched. "Goodnight."

A part of her wanted to tell him about the way his presence improved her sleep, too. Another part of her wanted to tell him just how terrifying she found that fact. A third part wanted to tell him to stay away before things got seriously complicated. A fourth part wanted to tell him to just get up from the uncomfortable couch and share the bed with her.

Lightning turned off the light and went to bed without telling him anything at all.