Chapter 44 44- Never Accept The Dangerous Comfort Of Falling Asleep On A Dragon’s Chest
LEXI
I finish putting away my notes and books, then smile at Blake.
“To the library now? We still have time before dinner.” I remind him. He raises an eyebrow, that familiar assessing look flicking over me like he’s checking a list only he can see.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be lying down?” Blake asks doubtfully. I frown.
“I want to go see the library. I’m just a little tired. I’ll be fine.” I say confidently. He studies me for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced, weighing something in his head. Then he exhales quietly, like he’s decided not to fight this battle.
“Alright.” He says at last. Not arguing, but there is something in his expression that says he is humouring me. He takes my arm the way he always does, steady, sure, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and starts us walking. Apparently he actually remembers where the library is. Of course he does. The library turns out to be its own separate building, with huge glass doors and tall windows that let the light pour in. The moment we step inside, I freeze. Shelves. Everywhere. Floor to ceiling, row after row, stretching farther than I can see. The air smells like old paper and dust and something warm and comforting underneath it all. The kind of smell that sinks straight into your chest and makes you want to breathe deeper.
“Oh.” I whisper. It’s bright and open and somehow quiet without being oppressive. Exactly what a library should be. I let go of Blake’s arm without even thinking and wander a few steps ahead, nearly tripping because I’m too busy staring to look where I’m going. Blake makes a low sound behind me and stays close enough that I know he’s still concerned I’m going to fall over again. Toward the back of the room is a study area filled with mismatched furniture that somehow works perfectly together. Big cushioned chairs meant for curling up with a book. A long table with plenty of chairs, good for group work, or hanging out, or even playing a board game. Small single desks tucked away with headphones waiting neatly on top, angled away from distractions like the library itself understands the weaknesses of students. There are even tables clearly meant for only two or three people. Quiet, intimate little spaces. There are students here, but they’re all absorbed in their own worlds. No staring. No whispering. No tension. I hadn’t realised how much I needed that until this exact moment. I should probably be picking out a book. I know that. But my attention gets snagged on one of the little couches instead. It looks impossibly soft. Deep cushions. Low enough that you could curl up properly. It’s an objectively terrible colour, patchy and weird, varying somewhere between moss and half-dead grass, but it looks like heaven. I barely hesitate before heading straight for it and dropping down. Oh. Yes. Perfect. I sink into the cushions with a happy sigh, already curling slightly on my side, kicking off my shoes as I go. Shoes definitely do not belong on this couch. This couch was not made for shoes. This couch was made for existing. Blake follows a moment later and stops in front of me, arms folded loosely, eyebrow raised.
“I thought you wanted to research.” He points out.
“That was before I fell in love with this couch.” I reply contentedly.
“I have zero intention of standing up right now.” I add. Blake snorts softly.
“Because you’re tired?” He asks, clearly amused. I frown at him.
“No… Well. Yes. But I’m still glad I came here. I wanted to see the library so badly.” I say happily. Something in his expression eases at that, like the fact that this matters to me makes the tiredness acceptable. He nods once.
“I’ll go find a book or two, then I’ll join you.” He says. I smile and wave him off, already settling deeper into the cushions as I watch him turn toward the shelves, calm, unhurried, completely at home here in a way I hadn’t expected. And honestly? I think I might already love this place more than any other place I have ever been.
By the time Blake gets back with his books, I am about ninety percent of the way to being completely asleep. My eyes are technically open, but I’m blinking a lot, and some of those blinks last longer than they probably should. My body feels heavy, pleasantly so, like gravity has suddenly doubled. The only reason I haven’t fallen asleep is that I’m a little bit cold. Blake sits down on the couch beside me, careful not to jostle me. The cushions dip slightly under his weight. I notice immediately how warm he is. Perfect. Without pause or hesitation, I shift closer, pressing myself against his side and leaning into his arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The cold fades instantly. Much better. For a moment, Blake goes very, very still. Not startled. Not tense. Just… Still. Like he’s registering the change, taking inventory of the situation, and deciding exactly how to respond. Then, slow, deliberate, he moves. His arm slides behind me, adjusting just enough to support my weight properly, to give me a solid place to rest. It’s careful, controlled, unmistakably intentional. He’s not just being accommodating though. I don’t see his face, but I can feel the shift in him. The faint hum of satisfaction. Like this confirms something he already suspected. I can practically hear that smug dragon part of him that seems to say ‘She chose this.’ I should probably be embarrassed by how clingy I’m being. But Blake isn’t objecting. In fact, he’s the one settling us more comfortably, angling his body so I fit better against him. And after earlier, after the way he refused to let go of me in the classroom, it feels a little unfair to pretend this is only my doing. He didn’t SAY it out loud. But he made it clear over the last couple days that this invitation exists. I’m just taking him up on it. Besides… I feel warm and completely safe. Moving feels completely impossible. He picks up one of his books with his free hand and flips it open, casual and unbothered, like having me tucked against his side is just part of the environment now. Like this is how things should be. My eyes grow heavier. My blinks stretch longer. The words on the page blur into nothing. The last thing I’m aware of is the steady warmth at my back and the quiet, smug certainty radiating from Blake as he reads, perfectly content, perfectly still, and very clearly not planning to move anytime soon. My eyes get heavier and heavier and my blinks get longer and longer until I stop opening my eyes at all.
When I start to wake, it doesn’t take me long to realise that I’ve moved. Mostly because I’m no longer sitting even a little bit upright. I can’t have moved very far, though, because I can still feel Blake, warm and solid and unmistakably there beside me still. Or… Under me? It takes a few sluggish seconds for my half-asleep brain to piece it together. I’m lying across his lap. And honestly? That seems perfectly reasonable. In my drowsy state, I can’t think of a single compelling reason why I should ever move from this spot again. His warmth seeps into me, grounding and steady, and I become dimly aware of the soft, repetitive sensation of his fingers brushing through my hair. Not restless. Not distracted. Just slow, absent-minded strokes, like he’s been doing it long enough that it’s second nature. I should probably let him know I’m awake. I absolutely do not want to. So I stay still for another minute. Maybe two. Letting myself exist there, breathing him in, letting the weight of my body stay draped over his lap like it belongs. Then someone nearby clears their throat. Soft. Careful. Nervous. Blake stiffens instantly beneath me.
“What do you want?” Blake asks. His voice is cold. Flat. All warmth gone. The response comes out almost as a squeak.
“I… I just… Um… Wanted to let you know that dinner is only available for another forty-five minutes or so…” The words trail off, like the speaker is very aware they are one wrong syllable away from being incinerated. Blake makes a low, conflicted sound in his chest. I can feel it beneath me. The tension. The internal debate. Wake me, or let me sleep. That decides it for me. I crack my eyes open and shift slightly, then push myself upright with a yawn, blinking the sleep away.
“Thanks.” I mumble toward the librarian, at least I think she’s a librarian. She nods far too quickly and practically flees. I glance around as my surroundings come back into focus. The library is darker now. The sunlight is gone, replaced by soft, glowing lanterns scattered throughout the space. They cast warm pools of light across the bookshelves, turning the whole place golden and dreamlike. I’m a little concerned about the fire slash books combo here, but I figure the Academy has it handled. Plus it’s just… Straight up beautiful. From outside, I bet the entire building glows.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Blake mutters, not quite meeting my eyes.
“You didn’t.” I reassure him, rubbing at my face.
“And I’m hungry. Also, I don’t want to miss the announcement thing at dinner… Although we might have already missed it.” I say with a frown. Blake shrugs, one arm still loosely behind me like he hasn’t fully registered that I’m sitting up now.
“We can always ask… Someone.” He says, clearly not sure on the logistics. I laugh softly.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” I agree. And just like that, he’s already shifting to stand, ready to help me up, calm and watchful as ever, like me napping on his lap was no bother at all. In fact, judging by the faint, satisfied look in his eyes? He didn’t mind it at all.