Waking up next to a warm body was an unfamiliar sensation for Em. She didn't like to sleep next to anybody. She certainly didn't want to be held. At least, she thought she didn't. Laying in bed half-conscious with Quentin Blake wrapped around her like a koala felt surprisingly good. He really was warm. Often being held filled her with a sense of loss she never knew how to deal with, but in this moment she just felt peace. She was almost sad to think she'd be losing this.
And she was losing this, absolutely, because there was no way in hell Quentin Blake would want anything to do with her after witnessing that breakdown. He was still here, probably out of some sense of obligation. He wasn't shitty enough to abandon someone who was crying. There was something to be said for that. He wasn't a complete dipshit. Em knew he wasn't a complete dipshit. She wouldn't have hooked up with him if he was. But it didn't matter, in the end. Their arrangement was essentially over, now. He would probably try to be nice about it, too. Pretend he was just busy or something, that it wasn't because she'd embarrassed herself in front of him. He wasn't the kind of person who'd say out loud that he didn't want to deal with someone's damage.
Em didn't want to have the conversation that followed what happened. She tried to lay perfectly still, to not give away that she'd woken up. Because of that, she didn't even know what time it was. How long had she been asleep? Or, really, how long had Quentin been in her apartment. She needed to move at some point. She needed to do the little dance of reassuring him that she was okay without having to reveal too much of what had happened, and then he would leave and she could be by herself again. Maybe she could take a day off of work. Stay home and get her shit together before dealing with society again. But then she'd be leaving the team to make up for her part of the work. They were too busy these days to carry her as well. She sighed, which evidently gave her away.
"Em?" Quentin whispered. He shifted, trying to see her face. Em reluctantly opened her eyes.
"Hey."
"Hey. How are you?" Quentin had that concerned lilt in his voice that made Em want to jump off a cliff.
"I'm fine. Sorry about that." She sat up, rubbing her eyes and straightening her hair out. "What time is it?"
"Half past eleven," Quentin said. "You've been asleep for a while."
"Oh, shit." It wasn't so late that Quentin couldn't go home, but it was late enough that Em should probably offer to let him stay. She didn't mind the idea of him staying over. He wasn't the kind to read into it too much. Still, she'd never had someone stay the night. She didn't know what it would mean.
"You don't have to be sorry." Quentin put a hand on her waist.
"What?"
"You apologized earlier, but you don't have to be sorry."
"Oh." Em didn't know how to respond to that.
"...Was it something I did?" Quentin asked. His voice was so small at that moment. That must have been why he stayed. He felt guilty about causing her breakdown. It wasn't his fault, not really. She'd never explicitly asked him not to call her by her full name. Though, the whole thing wouldn't have happened if he'd just stayed home instead of barging into her house like an asshole.
"Kindof. It's whatever. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Quentin leaned a little bit closer to her. He was still under the covers with her, tangled in her sheets like they'd just fucked. Em rolled her eyes.
"I'm still mad at you." She said, "You shouldn't have come here."
"I just wanted to talk to you."
"You don't get to demand my time. I'm not one of your underlings, Quentin."
"I know. I was worried about you, damn it!" To Em's surprise, he sounded genuinely concerned.
"Why?"
"... I care about you, Em." She considered this. She probably would have responded in some way if she saw him crying. Might have sent a text making sure he was okay. That was just common courtesy, especially if you had any kind of connection with someone. Thinking about that reminded her of his actions earlier and she got mad all over again.
"You only care when you're off the clock, huh?" She scoffed. "I really don't need your bullshit sympathy. And if you can't keep our work and personal lives separate, then we can't keep doing this. I really don't know what your problem is. Do you not have anyone else you're hooking up with right now? Is that why you're being like this?"
"I haven't been with anyone else since I met you." He said.
"... You're kidding."
"I'm not." He had adjusted himself so he could look her right in the eye, and it was making her stomach turn in ways she didn't really understand. It didn't make sense. They were fuckbuddies. She'd never asked him to be exclusive, either. She hadn't been with anyone else, sure, but that was because she hadn't met anyone else she had good chemistry with. She'd assumed that one of the kings of the city would have a roster of women to choose from. She knew she was good in bed. She didn't think she was that good.
"... I really need you to leave." She said, "I'm not trying to be a dick or whatever, but I've had a stressful day and I really want to be alone."
"I won't bother you." Quentin said. He leaned forward, burying his face in her neck. "I'll be quiet, so just let me stay."
"You said that earlier, too. Why do you even want to be here?"
"I just…" For a second, Em had this completely delusional thought that he was about to say he loved her. She had no idea where it came from. "I know what it's like to be alone and depressed. I don't want that for you."
That was… understandable. She didn't know what part of his life would make him depressed, but there was always more to people's stories than they showed. It made sense that he wanted to stay out of some sense of empathy. Wanting to do the right thing. It wasn't behavior that she would normally associate with Quentin Blake, but it wasn't impossible.
"...I guess. I'm going back to sleep, anyway." She ran a hand through his hair absent-mindedly. "If it'll make you feel better, you can stay. Set an alarm or something, though. We both have work in the morning." Quentin nodded eagerly, and reached to the bedside table to grab his phone. Em lay back down.
Quentin turned the lamp off and wrapped himself around her again. Em tried not to think about how good it felt, or how long it had been since anybody held her like this. It wasn't too hard, because she was so incredibly comfortable in his arms that she was asleep before she knew it.