Imagine person A of your OTP falling asleep on the couch when Person B gets home, they're torn between joining person A, covering person A with a blanket or just carrying them to bed.

She's asleep on his couch. Again. The third time in a month. William sighed, hanging his overcoat on the stand before ignoring Sutcliff for the moment and entering his bedroom.

His pyjamas were missing from his bed, as were a pair of winter socks from his drawers, and one of his spare pillows from the linen closet. Honestly.

It wasn't as if her house had no heating, or she lacked a place to sleep. It wasn't as if her flat was uninhabitable, and certainly no threat prevented her from accessing it.

She gave a small shiver, squeezing the pillow closer and burrowing her face into it. I should fetch her a blanket, he thought, or would it be better if I carried her to the guest bed? Body heat was also an option, though that thought turned him red-faced and weak-kneed. Honestly, he chided himself, just make the logical choice.

Grell rubbed her eyes, pawing in the general direction of the coffee table for her glasses. Her palm met soft fabric instead, warm to the touch. She sat up in alarm and someone made a displeased groan, curling away from the movement.

Giggling softly, Grell slid back beneath the warm quilts and spooned against the broad curve of his back. Resting her chin atop his head, she pressed a kiss to his dark hair before closing her eyes. Idiot.