A/N: Just another Erik/Meg fic, only this one was inspired by "Angel" byt Sarah McLachlan. Yeah...
Summary: Closing her eyes, she tells herself that she needs to get up, but she doesn't move. It feels to lie here for a while, basking in the afterglow.
Meg knows it's morning before she even opens her eyes. She shifts around on the huge, soft bed, before she pulls the blanket tighter around her. Closing her eyes, she tells herself that she needs to get up, but she doesn't move. It feels to lie here for a while, basking in the afterglow.
She feels strong arms encircle her waist and pull her closer. She smiles to herself and rolls over to face him. He is sleeping peacefully, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. It has been so long since she's seen him smile. His mask is slipping off, but she has seen his face so many times that she hardly thinks twice about it, and she pushes it back up.
He stirs a little when she touches him, and she gently kisses his forehead. His eyes, yellow as the sun, blink open: once, twice, three times, and he sees her and smiles. She smiles and kisses him, softly. One of his hands comes out from under the blanket and caresses her cheek. She sighs and gets closer to him, and his arms wrap around her, as though protecting her.
"If only we could stay like this forever," she murmurs, quietly.
He chuckles and kisses her hair. "You're needed at the ballet. The best dancer shouldn't be found in bed with someone she's not married to."
She scoffs. "They won't come looking for me," she says, and burrows farther under the covers. As she moves even closer to him, she realizes that he doesn't smell like Death anymore. Or maybe he still does, but she's become so used to the smell that she doesn't notice.
"Of course they'll come looking for you," he says, quietly. "You're the star ballerina. They need you." He bushes some of his dark hair away from his face, and he rests his cheek on her head. She reaches for his hand and their fingers intertwine and she lets her head fall back on the pillow and she closes her eyes and, for once, she's not thinking about the ballet or her mother or the Opera Populaire. She's happy just lying here with Erik, holding hands and basking in the afterglow.