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Kara has never seen Wade so miserable. Even more jarring is how he clung to her while resting in her lap, curling his arm around her legs and settling in like she somehow made it better just by being there.

Not long ago, he was fresh off isolation and pressed up against the wall to avoid her. Funny how quickly things change.

Food poisoning is rarely deadly, but she’s hypersensitive.

Seeing him suffer taps into a deep-seated fear of losing him again.

She’s been awake half the night, watching the rise and fall of his chest after she urged him into bed, exhausted from the ordeal.

He passed out fast once she tugged off his boots, pulled the blanket around his shoulders, and joined him, but her eyes took forever to finally close and only netted her a few hours of sleep.

What if she wakes up later, and he’s gone? Dehydration isn’t something to mess with.

It’s not the plague, she reminds herself. They’ve already survived that. He can survive this lesser ordeal, too.

Then, his socked foot shifts under the blanket, seeking her out even in sleep until he makes contact with her leg. She holds still, checking his face for any reaction but finding none.

Curious, she moves her leg away, wondering if it’s a fluke. Doesn’t take long for him to find her again, nestling his foot atop her own. She’s practically playing footsie with him. It would be funny if she didn’t like the idea of him wanting to be close to her as much as she does.

He’s quiet and relaxed so long as they’re touching, so she doesn’t move an inch until her thirst gets the better of her and she turns away to grab a drink. The instant she’s gone, he clumsily shifts his whole body in her direction, trying to find that contact again.

Kara’s never known him to be this way. Now she wonders if he always has been and she was simply never in a situation to find out. How often has he wished for a soft touch and never gotten it when she could have been right there, ready and willing?

She won’t deny him this time. Turns on her side to face him and gently nudges his leg with her own, settling against him from knee to toe.

It’s innocent, chaste, and always very far away from any danger zones.

She’s been starved for contact, too. Not from just anyone, but from him.

When he snorts himself awake with a few drowsy blinks, an uncertain expression passing over him quickly, she worries she’s gone too far.

“It’s okay,” she says softly, trying to stave off any awkwardness for them both before it festers. “It’s cold, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, not entirely convinced.

“You’re just lending me some body heat.”

She puts an extra tease in her words because that’s familiar between them. He knows how to react to it, and it’s a good cover for the truth.

As if on cue, he turns fondly irritated. “Well, come on then, if you’re cold. Promise I’ve got no more vomit in me. I’m all tapped out.”

He’s clearly inviting her to snuggle up to him. His tone is oblivious to how badly she desires it, as if he hasn’t a clue he’s offering her a slice of her most guarded dreams.

If she says no, that’ll make it weird, so she dramatically tucks in against his side as he turns onto his back.

Friends can sleep in the same bed.

They can get close if it’s cold.

Best friends who have said I love you to each other and who seem to be doing a bang-up job of avoiding that those words meant anything deeper, can cuddle. It’s completely acceptable.

Nothing strange about it. Nothing to see here.

“Shit, you are cold.” He rubs her arm briskly as if she’s caught in the middle of an Arctic winter.

She muffles a laugh, forgetting for a brief moment that they aren’t a couple and there are lines they can’t cross.

She’s in bed with the man who has always felt like her soulmate, and her instinct is to curl into him and nuzzle her face against his chest, tossing a lazy leg over his thigh in a move she’s never willingly done in her life that feels like second nature.

It’s enough to break the spell that allowed her to be here in the first place.

He freezes at the newly intimate contact, and she scrambles to the other side of the bed so quickly she nearly rolls right off the edge in her haste. The only thing that keeps her from cracking her skull open on the side table is Wade catching her by the arm and dragging her up again.

“Easy. Easy,” he says, gently. “Are you okay? Hit anything? Are you hurt?”

“Fine. Clumsy, that’s all. We should have breakfast and then see about hitting the road again. All this laying around isn’t checking off items on our list.”

Kara braces for him to object or draw attention to her mistake.

Mercifully, he lets it go, nodding in agreement and following her abrupt lead to gather food from their packs.

She’s already getting too comfortable out here alone with him.

This is a stark reminder that she needs to respect the boundaries they’ve set.