goawayleavemealone

He wakes with a start, his eyes darting around the room quickly, and then falling on Kitty, still asleep with her head on his chest.

He blinks, looks around again, and frowns as the events of the day before come back to him.

What had began a simple phone call to check up on an old flame had turned into him inviting her to run away to London, and her confessing that she thinks they belong together.

Which is terrifying, brilliant, and probably short-lived.

She'd promised the night before that she wouldn't hurt him again, and he wants to believe that, but he knows that jumping into this so soon after she was supposed to marry Piotr Rasputin is playing with a very specific kind of fire.

It's hard to ignore how good it feels to have her so close though. He lays back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the last time they were like this. it was so long ago, before things had gone south. By that point, they'd been sleeping on opposite sides of the bed, barely touching.

But before all that...when things were good?

Things were really good.

It's painful to admit how much he's thought about being able to do this with her again; how pathetic it makes him that he kept missing this.

He closes his eyes and tries not to think about it.

"Right," Pete says as he opens up his flat in Mayfair.

It's not huge by any definition of the word, but it's nice and a bit spacious. The bookshelves are full, and there's a modest record collection on a shelf in the corner, along with an old record player. The kitchen is small, but there's a relatively spacious bathroom, and the two bedrooms are next to each other, his own bedroom unkempt, but nowhere near the levels he used to keep his personal spaces back when they were first dating.

"Kitchen's through there," he points. "Living room's here, loo's back there, and your bedroom is the guestroom in the back."