Liz exhales a low laugh and tucks her chin; presses her forehead against Red's temple and rests her palm on his opposite shoulder, tracing slow, lazy patterns into his skin with her fingertips.

"Your fault," she tells him quietly.

The nice thing about being petite with a boyfriend who's supernaturally strong and not-so-petite: you never really have to worry about winding him, when it comes to using him as your own personal combination mattress/pillow.