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Watching her sleep was comforting, because although he found it difficult to sleep peacefully, she did not. Her duvet was twisted around her and her dyed blonde hair was sprawled over the pillow. There was a content smile playing at her lips and her skin glowed gold in the dim light. She didn't like sleeping in the dark. She said she saw shapes moving around, coloured dots moving across her vision. The lamp was on from the second she lay down, to the second she got up.
She also liked to stay up until the morning and watch it get lighter. Liked to see the world slowly wake up. She didn't like the sunset though. The sunset signalled the end. She didn't want anything to end, not anymore.
She sighed lightly in her sleep, turning over and getting more tangled in her duvet. Light snores filled the room and the Doctor closed the door quietly, not wanting to disturb.
Watching him sleep saddened her. She always found it easy to sleep, but he didn't. Once he finally slipped out of consciousness, things were worse. He never told her what he saw, he didn't even know she'd watch him. He'd writhe in his sleep, sweat glistening on his body. He'd yell out names of people who she'd never heard of, and always, without fail, would apologise over and over, for doing God knew what. He'd confess that it was his fault, and the worst of it was living with that knowledge. He'd wake up breathing heavily, eyes darting around the room, before falling backwards onto his pillows and swearing, ashamed that he let nightmares affect him so much.
He did get some peaceful nights, but only when she would dare to sit on the chair next to his bed, and hold his hand, trying not to wake him. His breathing would slow down, he'd stop twisting around, he'd stop yelling in mid-sentence. He did wonder sometimes, what caused this, but the next time he saw her he'd realise that it had something to do with her.
He needed her to hold his hand, and without a doubt, he knew she would all the way. Even if he didn't ask her to, even if he didn't say anything as he was ashamed of his night time dramas. She'd hold his hand, and wouldn't let go until she had to.
He liked to stay up and hold her hand while they watched it get light.
They liked to fall asleep on the sofa, twisted up with each other. They fell asleep quickly, and peacefully. She didn't mind the light not being on if he was there. He didn't mind her being there because he knew if she was, no dreams would haunt his mind. She liked being held while she slept. He liked to have something to hold onto.
She never wanted him to let go.
He didn't want to let her go.
They liked to wake up together and watch it get light.