Beverly snapped awake with wide eyes, her heart beating frantically in her chest. Her eyes flew around the dark room, and it took several beats for her to remember where she was. When she did, she noted that the theater room was still quiet, the clock on the wall indicating it was only ten at night, meaning her nap had lasted just under two hours.

She still felt tired, though, so why on earth had she woken up?

The answer came in the form of a shout.

"Beverly?! Jesus, where the hell are you?!"

Awwww, crap on a cracker.

She should've known that Griffin would return, find her gone, and freak out; she'd probably given the poor guy grey hairs with how many times she'd taken off on him. Taking her blanket with her, she poked her head out of the room, her brows furrowing when she didn't see Griffin in the hall. Either he'd been shouting at the top of his lungs, or he'd already moved back downstairs.

Stifling a yawn, Beverly strode towards the staircase, her steps halting abruptly when she registered the voices coming up from the living room below.

"Did you try calling her?" That was Cynthia, sounding concerned and a bit wary.

"Of course I called her!" and that harsh snapping of words could have only come from her favorite grumpy giant. "But her goddamn phone is still dead!"

Oops, Beverly groaned inwardly, realizing he was right. I forgot about that.

"Griffin, I'm sure she couldn't have gone far." Wait a minute, Francis was still there? Beverly almost wanted to applaud the man—staying in a house and trying to reason with a guy who recently punched you twice took a lot of guts.

Or, perhaps, stupidity. 

"Don't talk to me!" Griffin's voice was an animalistic snarl. "You're lucky I didn't punch you three more times, asshole. I should've—"

Beverly, having heard enough, cut her awfully violent boyfriend off by calling his name, not having to fake the sleep tinging her voice. "Griffin?"

The room below went dead silent for a moment, before, "Beverly!" Following the word came the sound of pounding footsteps, and Griffin was in front of her in the next instant, his skin pale, knuckles busted, and eyes shining with terror.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, his words shaky. "God. Holy shit." Instead of embracing her tightly as she'd first expected he would, he tripped backwards, slumping against the wall and sliding to the floor with his head in his hands.

He kept mumbling words, but Beverly couldn't make them out; a quick glance down the stairwell showed Cynthia and Francis staring up at her, wearing matching expressions of stress and confusion.

Beverly tried to pass them a reassuring grin, knowing perfectly well that it probably looked more like a pained grimace. "Sorry about that," she told them. "I fell asleep." Her eyes shifted to Griffin, who had yet to change positions. "I think I need to handle this one."

Francis and Cynthia nodded in perfect unison, and Cynthia said, "I think you're right. I'll see you both in the morning, alright? I'm going to show Francis out." Upon saying her ex's name, Cynthia's face didn't screw up with disgust, so Beverly figured that was a good sign. She'd have to get the in-depth version tomorrow, though—she had a bigger issue to handle.

Spinning around once the pair had vanished into the entryway, Beverly felt her heart swell with pity at the sight in front of her.

Griffin had fallen apart.

He was rocking back and forth now, his hands clenched in his hair and his mumbles growing louder in volume as he began to grow hysterical. Sucking in a calming breath and releasing it just as slowly, Beverly crouched next to him, ignoring the twinge in her side.

"Griff," she soothed, pulling her hands up to grasp his own, tugging gently until his fingers loosened and his hands fell from his head. Pulling his face up, she was shocked by the blank, haunted look in his eyes, as though his entire world had crumbled underneath him and he had no idea how to put it back together.

"Griffin," she tried again, her words soft and even, like she was speaking to an injured, cornered animal. "Griffin."

Just when she thought she'd have to sit back and wait for him to come back on his own, Griffin stopped rocking, his entire body stiffening as his gaze cleared. "Beverly?" he asked, her name strangled with awed shock as it came from his lips.

"Yeah," she mustered up a small smile. "Right here."

"I . . . I was so scared. You, God," he ran a hand through his hair. "You can't do that to me, Beverly."

She frowned at the emptiness in his words. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to, but I fell asleep."

Seeming to realize she had no idea what was wrong with him, Griffin pulled his hands up to her cheeks, his thumbs tracing circles over her skin as he confessed, "I couldn't find you. I thought something happened to you. I've been trying to protect you, you know? But I'm obviously shit at it, and I figured you'd finally realized that too."

Oh, my poor, sweet, lovely Griffin.

He'd worried she'd left, Beverly realized. He'd thought that she blamed him for all the trouble she'd gotten herself into and had walked clean out of his life for good.

No wonder he'd sounded so terrified.

"You're my favorite thing," he croaked. "You're all I have left," he continued, and Beverly tilted her head into one of his palms, her eyes never straying from his. "You and Cynthia. If anything happened to you, though . . ." he gulped audibly, his jaw clenching as though he was preparing himself already to fight off whatever tried to take her away. "I—Jesus, Beverly, I don't know what I would do if you left me, whether it was your choice or not."

She had known that was one of the main reasons he was hovering so much, but she understood his never-ending fear better now that she knew the truth about her condition. If Griffin had been declared dead for a full minute . . . well, she'd never let him out of her sight. Plus, it was their job to watch over one another, right? So she would have to let him watch over her (even if it was extremely closely, though she'd only allow until she was back at one hundred percent).

A sudden, random thought stalled her, and she took a moment to absorb his appearance. Besides his busted knuckles and the sorrow in his features, she made note of the lines of worry carved into his brow and the paleness of his skin. They were supposed to watch over one another. Looking at him now, Beverly felt ashamed. How had she missed the stress in his face and the bags under his eyes? How could she be so selfish and blind to his needs?

Running a finger along the crease of his brow, she asked, "Have you not been sleeping?"

He sighed shakily and shook his head. "No. Not really."

"Oh, Griffin," blowing out a breath, she moved her other hand until it rested against the back of his neck. "What's going on?"

"I don't want to burden you—"

"Griffin."

He sucked in an unsteady breath, and when he looked at her again, Beverly could feel her own breath catch in her lungs.

Griffin—her sweet, strong, beautiful, loving Griffin—had tears shining in his eyes, and, with one blink, they were trailing down his cheeks like saltwater crystals. "Come here," she cooed, pulling him forward until his face was nestled in her neck. It was the second time she'd seen him cry, and it didn't hurt any less than the first.

"Tell me," she urged, her fingers trailing over his scalp and through his hair.

The only sound was his light sniffles for several beats, before he choked out the words, "I can't . . . I can't sleep, Beverly. I, I can't sleep."

"Why can't you sleep?" her voice was soft, like a lullaby, the same voice her mother had always used with her when she had been little and unsettled by a nightmare.

"All I can think about is you," he confessed, nuzzling his nose deeper into her neck and breathing her in. "I worry. I worry that your heart is going to stop and that I won't be there to realize it. What if I wake up one morning, but you don't? What if your heart stops and I'm not there to start it again? I'm so scared, Beverly," he broke down into choked sobs then, and Beverly had to work hard not to join him.

Seeing Griffin, of all people, become so torn up because of his worry, only cemented the fact that when he cared, he cared deeply.

And, as lucky as she was, she couldn't help but feel unworthy. This man, who had gone through so much and worked so hard to become better, had been broken because of her. Because of her stupid decisions and careless actions.

"Griffin," she whispered sorrowfully, her own voice clogging with tears as the dam behind her eyes broke, "I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean to cause you this pain; I never want you to be in pain."

He pulled back, his gaze steely even through his tears. "It's not your fault, Beverly; please don't ever blame yourself." She could only smile sadly, knowing perfectly well it was her fault. She was the one who couldn't keep herself from meddling in things way beyond her control, after all—no one else could be blamed for her nosiness (though she would admit that only Dennis, Red, and Harris were at fault for kidnapping and injuring her).

"I won't." She lied, knowing perfectly well that her guilt wouldn't vanish instantaneously, regardless of what Griffin told her.

A heavy, shaky sigh tumbled from Griffin's lips as he pulled her back into his embrace, his breath dusting against the top of her head when he murmured, "I . . . I feel better, now that I've told you."

"I'm glad you told me—you can tell me anything." Beverly swallowed, and then added, "I've been having nightmares."

Griffin's entire body stiffened. There was a pregnant pause, followed by a low whooshing of air as he struggled to remain unaffected. "They're not bad," she continued in a rush after a minute passed and he still hadn't responded. "Not great, but not bad either."

"You didn't tell me." Is all he murmured, his tone sad.

"I should've," she confessed, raising her head so he could see the sincere apology in her gaze. "I guess I thought I'd burdened you enough, you know? You check the wound, make sure I take my medication and eat, and are always ready if I call you for something. You've done more than enough for me."

"I would do even more, if you let me." His voice was barely a whisper, so filled with emotion it seemed to get clogged in his throat for a second. "I would do anything."

Beverly stared at him for several long beats, her mouth falling open with shock at what she found in his hazel eyes.

It's true, she realized. He does love me.

There was no doubt in her mind anymore—not with the earnestness she saw in Griffin's features, nor with the words he told her. This man loved her, and she considered herself a fool for not grasping the fact sooner.

"Can I tell you a pun?"

Griffin blinked, clearly thrown by the sudden change of subject. "I . . . yes?"

Leaning up until her lips dusted against the shell of his ear, Beverly smiled, muttering, "I love you a latte."

There was a moment of complete silence, and then—just as Beverly began to worry—a huge, toothy smile spread across Griffin's face. "That was awful," he said, though his smile didn't dim. "The worst one I've heard, and I've heard a lot of them."

"I doubt that," Beverly huffed, before sobering and letting her fingers dance across his lips. "They're not so chapped anymore." She noted with a light smile, her thumb resting against his lower lip.

Griffin's own grin faded, until his features expressed complete tenderness. "I love you," he croaked after a beat, his eyes showcasing his inner fear—as though saying the words would make things change between them.

"Yeah?" Beverly asked, moving her thumb and pressing a chaste kiss against his now mostly-smooth mouth. "A latte?"

"A whole latte." He replied, swallowing audibly. "So much; more than I've ever loved anyone, I think."

Beverly didn't want to ruin the tender moment, but she couldn't stop her mouth from moving when she asked, "Is it because I bought you ChapStick?"

He laughed, but the sound was mangled by emotion; leaning his head back against the wall, he shifted and pulled Beverly further into his lap, until she was steadied on his hips, her legs dangling to one side. "I opened it right after I found it outside, you know." He was referencing the present she had left outside his apartment that day, which now felt like years ago instead of less than a month.

"And did you like it?" she questioned, snuggling her nose into the space beneath his ear and pressing a gentle kiss there.

He shuddered lightly, and she smirked against his skin when his voice came out strangled, "I, uh, yes. Pe—" he startled violently when she nipped at his earlobe, "Peppermint," the word was wheezed. "I don't . . . I don't remember what I was saying."

Beverly broke, laughing brightly and wrapping her arms around his neck so she could pull herself up to dust a flurry of kisses over his face. Once she decided he'd been tortured enough, she clambered up and offered a hand down. "I'm tired; are you ready for bed?"

One of Griffin's brows quirked curiously, and she had to fight off a wicked grin when she saw how red his ears and neck were. "I guess." The words were posed as a statement, but she didn't miss the questioning look in his gaze as she helped him stand.

"Should we go to your room or mine?" Beverly mused as she trundled down the hallway towards the bedrooms. "I was thinking yours, but I'm a bit biased, since I really enjoy the smell of your aftershave." Realizing her boyfriend wasn't next to her, she whirled around, crossing her arms and eyeing him expectantly when she found him still standing where she'd left him. "Coming?"

"What—I don't—huh?" Not for the first time, Beverly noted that her giant was absolutely adorable.

"You worry about me at night and have trouble sleeping, right?" she asked, and, at his slow nod of agreement, continued, "Well, I'm trying to get over my nightmares, and could really use someone to snuggle with when they wake me up. If you don't want to, I guess I can go find Alicia, or Deb, or maybe—"

He was upon her in the next second, rolling his eyes at her antics even as he laid a sweet kiss on her forehead. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Let's go to my room, okay?"

"Okay."

Once they were nestled under his thick down comforter, they curled against one another with such ease that an outsider would probably assume they'd done it a hundred times before; Beverly decided at that exact moment that she wouldn't mind sleeping beside Griffin for the rest of her life.

"Good?" the word brushed against the back of her head, where Griffin had settled his chin as he huddled against her back.

With the peaceful silence and his comforting presence, Beverly was able to push aside the many issues that had been keeping her up. She was able to forget the earlier drama with Francis and the looming spring semester. There with Griffin, in their little bubble of silence highlighted only by the glow of moonlight seeping through his curtains, Beverly was at peace.

"Good."

***

A/N:

I figured y'all deserved some #grifferly, after sticking through so much craziness!

Sweet, sweet #grifferly. Gah, how I love them. 

(ᵔᴥᵔ)

Stay sweet, parakeets,

A. R.