I was going through some really old files in my computer and stumbled upon this, one of many forgotten files. No point in deleting or just leaving it be, so I decided to post it.

Be warned it hasn't been beta'd.

It was past one in the morning now, almost two actually. And Ryan Wolf was nowhere in sight. She wasn't used to waiting for him. Ryan and his OCD were always on time.

Being so late after a hard day of work and a relaxing shower, it was almost cruel making her wait up for him. Not that he said she needed to. He probably thought she was in bed right now, and maybe that was the reason he wasn't making any efforts to get home any time soon.

Well, truth is she is in bed right now. Not exactly wide awake, but not deep in sleep as he would expect either, she was lying in his bed; with his scent surrounding her everywhere - on his covers and pillows – it was almost the most comfortable scenery to fall asleep, only one piece was missing: the subject of her late-night thinking.

Taking in his scent with every breath, was making her eyelids feel even heavier. It was becoming harder to be awake with every second that ticked by. In a state she was neither awake nor sleeping, she could imagine – almost feel - his touch.

His fingertips tracing her jaw line, taking some of her wet hair from her face. Warm touch that made her shiver like it was actually ice.

It always seemed funny to her why his touch made her shiver, since no one else seemed to have the same reaction. She remembered that when she first noticed her strange reaction to his touch, she started to avoid it. She was back at the time she didn't even wanted to work in the same case with him just to avoid contact. Eric's mood had never been so good like at that time, he was happy believing she would do almost anything just to avoid being in the same room as Ryan Wolfe.

But then she decided that she liked the shivers, she liked the hair of the back of her neck standing up in a mixture of hot and cold. It was unbelievable what he could do to her so effortlessly.

Like when she would give him a file while working - a test result maybe – and their fingers would brush against each other. It was like electricity running through her skin.

His touch was, in every single degree, disorientating. She hated it.

Or maybe she liked it. No, she definitely liked it.

And when she said his touch made that to her, she had meant every contact to any part of Ryan Wolfe. Including his lips.

In fact, for several times she had imagined if he was running a fever just because he lips felt so hot. Sometimes she would put her hand to his forehead just to check and she always ended up getting to the conclusion he had a fever. He always denied it. She started believing his body temperature was higher than most people. Or, her second and not much acceptable option: his body temperature was normal and there was something wrong with her. Point is, he was hot. At least, she thought so.

His warm lips would keep her warm – even if it was 117 degrees outside and she didn't need any warming at all. And even when he made her sweat; somehow his touch would make her shiver at the same time. Goosebumps going down her spine that made her hold on to him even harder. Or hot breath that felt like velvet and tasted like vanilla.

And again, his fingertips came to her. Sliding down her arm, making her shiver – making her warmer inside and out. The damn fingertips that would caress her so lightly, always touching the right spots. A touch that felt almost as good as hear him whisper her name in his vanilla-flavored voice.

"Calleigh?"

How funny, she just noticed that against her will her eyelids had betrayed her and fell closed. And he was there, his touch wasn't part of her memory nor imagination.

"You really shouldn't fall asleep like that. You'll end up falling off the bed."

He was right, of course. She was curled up just a couple of inches from falling off.

"What took you so long?" Her voice sounded softer than she meant it. She could feel perfectly now; his palm burning hot against her cold freshly-showered skin.

"There was a lot of paperwork to do. And what have you been up to?"

His fingers were caressing her skin again, leaving a burning trace on her cheek and neck and forehead and scalp.

"Making a list." Being so sleepy worked like some kind of truth serum. She shouldn't have tell him that. Or perhaps it was his touch that was distracting her and stopping her mind from forming any coherent thoughts.

"A list? What kind of list?"

His thumb tracing her lips were really persuading her into saying what she really shouldn't.

"I was trying to figure out why I like you."

Saying those kinds of things was dangerous. Soon enough he would be laughing at her.

"Got anything interesting?"

"No."

It was late. He was late. And she wished he would shut up, change and come to bed with her already. She needed that unnecessary warm.

"Calleigh?"

He was way too real to ignore. His scent, his touch, his presence was overwhelming.

"What?"

She sound a bit upset and he probably thought she was mad at him for taking so long. She didn't care. Maybe he would learn something about not keep her waiting.

His lips so close to her ear, whispering so she would remain in her half-sleep-half-awake state and his hand caressing her cheek.

"Can I make a list too?"

The End.

Clearly there'll be no sequel to this. If by any chance you feel like doing it, go for it. ;D

Cheers.