“Guess so,” he responded, amused at her humor.  Despite the fact she was taking valerian and something called kava kava, she was surprisingly entertaining and not struggling for words.  Far from it, actually.  She was talking more than she had ever really spoken before and he had to admit he was taking advantage of that fact a bit.  He was not accustomed to women who did not want to talk his ear off about what he was doing wrong or about what they wanted from him, with Ray he was constantly trying to guess.  It almost made him glad for the days of being talked to death, at least then he could have a fallback when he was in the flobberworm house, remember something she wanted and get it for her – Ray didn’t act like that.  

She was hard to read at times and despite the fact they had decided to be more forthcoming with one another, she was harder to understand than ever.  He supposed getting into her personal life was a little harder, at work he knew what she wanted and how she wanted it done.  This was just adding another layer to the complicated problem that was Ray and their relationship.

Continuing to play with her hair, Archer sighed, and thought silently to himself, chuckling softly (a low rumble) when she announced that it wasn’t fair.  “Mmm? Well, it seldom is,” he offered up for her to think about – though he hoped she would not ramble about such a thing.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have said it… whatever the case, he turned his attention elsewhere.  She looked as though she was starting to get tired, but he wasn’t quick to decide to move.

Glancing at his watch, he still had plenty of time and it was far more comfortable on the couch, and she wasn’t heavy, so he had no problem supporting her weight on his frame.  The feeling of her fingertips on his stomach could have blazed fire trails all over him.  He nodded quietly at her advice, a bit of a grin cropping up, “I’m going to hold that over your head now, you know?” he informed her, “not that it would be very hard to hold anything over your head.”  Yes, a short joke – he was not the most mature man in the world.  

“Genius, really,” he noted with a bit of a laugh, "You should become a politician," readjusting just a little so that they could both be more comfortable.  “So… tomorrow, if I remind you that you need to be more physical, is that going to get me smacked?” he raised his eyebrows curiously, but amused at the whole situation - and wanting to get her to loosen up a bit, to remember that it was possible for this to happen and try to coax it out when she wasn't doped.  It would take a while, but he figured he'd be around for it - as long as she was willing to work on it too.  

Of course, she now knew something of what he wanted, and he realized he was still in the dark on what she wanted.  It went back to a long standing tradition of women who were far to willing to tell him what they wanted.  She told him how to help her help him, but... how did he do what she wanted?  Sighing, he wasn't sure he wanted to open this can of worms - but he'd never have the opportunity again.  "What about you?" he questioned, "what is it that you want from me?"

She felt more than heard the rumbled chuckle as his chest vibrated beneath her head. It was valid, his point about life. And it was a point she knew all too well, though that line of conversation was far too heavy and deep for her even to consider undertaking at the moment. Instead, her mind kept it in regards to the – what should be illegal – manipulation of the conversation. Far too lethargic to plot a serious revenge, she kept it simple. Shifting her head, she pressed her lips against the base of his throat, over the stead beat of his pulse.

“It rarely is,” she agreed, nudging her head back into its former resting spot. The hand absently tracing patterns stopped, as if realizing that she had been doing it, and slide up to rest more fully against his torso. The lethargic effects of the herbs were truly starting to take effect, granted a little sooner than anticipated. He truly was turning into a pillow.

“You already are over my head,” she replied, clearly missing the intended joke, though she smiled slightly, the corners of her mouth pulling back genuinely. “If being smacked is your definition of being physical.” It had been meant as a joke, but an innocent one. She was not intending on smacking him… not unless the suggestion was exceptionally crude …she believed they were beyond that stage. If she had been more coherent, given the mental capacity of the man she was dealing with, she might have worded that statement differently.

The smile slipped into a frown, becoming serious once more. “Becoming a politician is something I am trying to avoid.” For as long as she could avoid it. She did not say that, thought, as she did not find it particularly relevant. Especially not in regards to his next question.

What did she want from him? Was that some sort of trick question? … Was she suppose to want something from him. She lapsed into a long silence as she contemplated the question, eyes closed and so still that one could have mistakenly believed she had fallen asleep. Only her still uneven breathing suggested the contrary. Was this some social etiquette she was unfamiliar with? She was determined to stay awake long enough to answer it. How he had worded it… it seemed important.

Did he mean was there anything he could give her? It was a silly notion, but she  considered it. No, she already had a livelihood. And she most certainly did not need money. The question was beginning to frustrate her. There was nothing she needed, except...

“I do not understand,” she finally admitted. “I want you… I do not want anything from you. Is that the same thing?” Frowning, she considered her words. Wanting ‘him’ as a whole as opposed to a specific detail. “That sounds selfish,” she thought out loud.

Her inability to understand the joke just reminded Archer, once again, that she was not in her normal frame of mind.  If she were, she probably would have swatted him or something, made some kind of comment about how he was the abnormal one, something of that nature.  It wasn’t typical for her to just take a joke about her height and let it slide.  Generally, he didn’t even notice that she was close to miniature, except when he was carrying her, or using her as an arm rest, and at those times, he was ridiculously pleased that she was so small.  His experience with carrying a normal sized woman, well – that had not ended up being as nice as it could have been. 

Whatever the case, right now, he was enjoying the fact that she was small enough to not crush him while they were on the slightly small couch and laughed, despite himself, on her note about being a politician.  “I was being sarcastic, Ray,” he clarified – figuring that was one joke she really did need to understand – he would never suggest she become that much of a politico and involved in the… less savory aspects of trying to balance the public and the office without regard for the way things needed to be done.  Once the sides became involved, it was an unending battle.  “You’d be a horrible politician, if that makes you feel better.” 

Honest, really.  She would be horrific, offending everyone in her wake and making decisions that were right, not what people wanted to hear.  He respected and admired her for it, but if she ever got promoted beyond their office, well, things would start to become very interesting.  He didn’t want to even consider that change – too much change for his liking right now, let alone later. 

He was too worried about her answer, to be perfectly honest.  He didn’t know what he could give her that she didn’t already have.   He wanted to know what she wanted from him as a person, not materialistically, and she wasn’t the type of person to really examine what she wanted.  It never even seemed to cross her mind on a regular basis.  What she wanted was not always in her vision. 

Her answer was milder than he expected though, and shifting so that he could lean her up.  “Ray, there has to be more than that.  I’ve already tried that part.  I mean, what do you want me to do?”  Perhaps that was pushing it, but he was running out of things to do to make it work the way a perceived normal relationship should.  Well, they weren’t normal, but that couldn’t be the whole of it. 

Shrugging, he resumed playing with her hair, looking up the ceiling in thought.  "It's not selfish, by the way," he added, as he continued to gaze up at the slightly bumpy surface.  He could have counted the dots if he wanted, but his mind was moving in too many directions to focus.  He should have used that as a technique, but it wasn't working.  Maybe this was just how it was going to be.  Glancing down, he didn't know if he minded that too much.  This set-up didn't seem too bad.

Her head nodded heavily in agreement to her lack of political abilities. Many department heads had come in gone in her years at the office. People were beginning to wonder if there was truth to the position being cursed. She had begun to wonder that herself. “The press would be even harder to avoid,” she joked. The lack of love between Tamis Raynor and reporters was not classified information.

And he was really pushing this ‘want’ question.

If she had been that type of woman, she might have cried in frustration. Lucky for both of them, she was not nearly so melodramatic. By her very nature, she did not like questions she could not answer satisfactorily. Quite obviously, he was not very satisfied. Wilting against him as he leaned them up, she shook her head slowly.

There was nothing more that she wanted. He already respected her, and even though he may not always agree with her, she knew she could count on him to have her back – their years in partnership had contest to that. He was one of her closest friends and possibly knew her better than anyone else. She knew if she chose to talk about something, that he would listen. Physical affection, well, that was her blunder. He had most certainly been trying on that front. She could not ask a man to give who already gave.

“You already do enough,” she murmured. Even in a stupor she knew that he was going to want more than such a simple answer. A long sigh escaped her and she leaned back against his shoulder while he continued to fuss with the ends of her hair. She thought it was best not to mention split ends with all of the friction. “It has been a long time since I have let someone into this part of my life,” she admitted softly. “It… is not easy… But I want to… share it with you,’’ verbal skills really were deteriorating, apparently.  In her newfound, elevated position she had better access to his face and she tilted her head up to brush her lips against his jaw line, punctuating the statement in ways words could not. The effect was ruined by a follow-up yawn, which she tried to stifle. “Women… tend to forget that… men are not mind readers.”

Pressing her forehead against his neck while he studied the popcorn of her ceiling, one corner of her mouth quirked back. “It is selfish,” she corrected him, eyes closing again. “But... maybe selfish will help.”

She was clearly tired; Archer gathered that when he saw her leaning on the table with the glassy look in her eyes, but like a small child, she denied it.  Now, leaning against him, she was practically falling asleep, her eyes closed as she spoke and resting comfortably with deep breaths – pauses between most of her words.  Seeing her like this, not alert or on guard, was appealing in some ways and disconcerting in others.  She was proving she was very human, which, for a long time, was a major rumor around the office. 

Archer had always made light of it and told everyone they were being ridiculous, though, at times, he began to play into the idea that perhaps she was not all humanoid.  Fortunately, it was all put to rest, if it had ever really gotten off the ground anyway, and Archer sighed – her confusion was another marker of her inability to be superhuman.  He, on the other hand, was surprised that he was doing so well in her eyes as she made it sound.

For some reason, he thought he was doing everything wrong, but she thought he was doing a damn fine job – or at least a good enough one.  He couldn’t help but be a little proud of this fact, but at the same time, frustrated that if he was doing the right thing, why wasn’t it working?  He would have furthered it, but she started talking more – so odd for her – and he did acknowledge that she was a bit out of practice and that it wasn’t going to be easy for her, but she had to cut him some slack too.  It had been thirteen years of this back and forth. 

“You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes,” Archer laughed softly after she finished, resting back down.  The woman was exhausted – she couldn’t even properly kiss him without yawning, and he knew he wasn’t a boring kisser.  “In fact, at least once a day, you should be selfish about something.”  He hoped he would be on the end of the selfish actions, of course, but did not say so out loud. 

A smirk spread across his features, “Maybe we’re not mind readers always,” he consented, “but right now I know exactly what you’re thinking – you’re tired and need to sleep.”  He shifted a bit, ready to lift her if she wanted it.  “Why don’t I take you to bed, Ray?”

What, at the end of the day, did it truly mean to ‘be human’?

The definition of the word was very subjective.

It could be a very scientifical matter of species; one was born of the human race and therefore was inherently human. It was a very muggle explanation.  To others it was more a matter of the quintessential. It was the actions of an individual that made them human; there strengths and their weaknesses, the capacity to do good as well as the capacity to do evil. It was the ability to become angry, or sad, or happy, and quite possibly all at once. Tamis Raynor was not immune to the rumors that she lacked these characteristics – according to both definitions.

She strove so hard to seem invincible on a daily basis and usually succeeded. It was almost as if she constantly had something to prove to the world, even when neither she nor the world knew exactly what that ‘something’ was. To care for someone, in her opinion, meant to assume responsibility for that person. Too often that had ended in misery and too often she had told herself never again and it was too often that she ended up caring anyhow. She just was not very expressive about it. Continuously, she tried to deny it. It gave her the ability to look at the world objectively, and with a career such as hers, that was crucial. While it gave the impression of callousness, in reality, Tamis Raynor was probably one of the most fallible, human, of all.

Right now she felt every bit of it. And she was finding it very hard to come up with a negative feeling about it.

“It will work,” she told him sleepily, as if summoning clairvoyance in her languor and reading his thoughts.

They were riddled with issues, it was true. Neither had been too successful with commitment, if for varying reasons. And Archer could successfully wage war for the title of Ministry’s  largest workaholic. She had never been to his apartment, but she knew he did not have the healthiest of habits. They were Law Enforcement. Diagnosable psychological conditions and unhealthy lifestyles supplemented the career path.  Normal people just did not want to tolerate the stress of the job or want to draw a wand against a criminal as fervently as they did.

She was getting far too philosophical. Perhaps she really was tired. Archer apparently agreed.

“That sounds like what you are thinking,” she mumbled, stirring a bit as he shifted. At the question, some of her humor revived. She did not want to admit that she would have a rather difficult time getting to her bedroom at her own, but she knew that they both knew the truth. Did not mean she had to say it out loud. “Will… my answer actually make a difference?”

She was quite positive she had stifled the yawn that time. Mostly positive.

Of course she was tired, Archer could see it on her face – she never would have settled against him like that and closed her eyes, head resting gently against his chest if she weren’t.  She looked as though she were trying to cuddle a giant teddy bear.  He would never let anyone know he thought of himself as a teddy bear at this moment, and she wouldn’t know either.  That was just slightly horrifying to his ego and reputation.  He could only imagine what someone like Eddie would think – or even Adon, oh Merlin.  That would have been torture in the worst way. 

Shaking his head, noting the movement on her part, Archer was not going to let her attempt to get up herself – she couldn’t even stand before, and he could only imagine how loose her muscles were now.  “I think we’re sharing this thought,” Archer laughed, despite his seriousness about the issue, and he again moved to put one arm under the crook of her knees and the other behind her back and under one arm.  He had to thank whatever Heaven he was going to go to again for the fact she was small.   

Standing up slowly, he readjusted her in his arms once they were upright and snorted, “Nope. Already up – too late to answer now anyhow.”  It was an easy solution – make the decision for her, and it wasn’t as though she could fight him anyway.  Her wand was in her bedroom, as far as he was aware, and she wouldn’t even be able to hold it up, so she was powerless to the man within full capacity. 

Carrying her from the couch and down the small distance from the living room to the one bedroom, Archer looked down at her.  Yea, she wasn’t long for the conscious state of being and she really needed the sleep, so it didn’t matter to Archer how she got it.  Making sure to lay her down on her side of the bed, the side closest to the window, and sat on the side closest to the door.  He didn’t have to do another detail for a while – he could relax, and he kicked off his boots (he knew she would kill him if he put his boots on her bed), and swung his legs up, relaxing far more comfortably than he would have on the floor. 

“So this is what a bed feels like – I thought I had forgotten,” Archer laughed looking over at her, wondering how long it would be until she passed out.  He gave it a good five minutes, if she was really resisting.

“I knew it,” she grumbled back, “stubborn.”

Tamis made no mention of the hypocrisy in that statement as he hoisted her up. Since there was little she could do about the situation, she tried to be graceful about the experience, but there was still something so entirely unnerving about being so high in the air. How did he deal with that all the time? The floor felt impossibly far away.

Her bedroom was as insignificant of a distance as the kitchen had been from the living room. Nothing particularly was in her mismatched flat. There were a lot more antique appearing fixtures in the bedroom than the living room, though it was much more sparsely furnished. A bed, a nightstand near the window as that was the side she slept on, a wardrobe, and a looking glass. Just the essentials, if grandeur essentials, and of course, the adjacent bathroom.

Archer deposited her on her side of the bed and she did her best to ignore that downward tug of the dream world. It usually was not a pleasant place to go, anyhow.

“The terrorist group,” she sighed, “It has me worried.”

It was a simple statement, an admittance of a rather predictable emotion, but still admittance.

It was a last futile attempt to stay awake. It was a childish resistance, it was true. Yet, she knew Archer and she knew he had been getting significantly less sleep than she was. At one point, she had even suggested that he was going to be useless as a protection detail if he was exhausted, but she did not think he had listened to her. Tamis did not want to fall asleep so early and leave him up with, oh good Merlin, with Squeak for company. 

The singular thought was horrifying.

Kicking off his boots (to her immense relief), he settled on the bed next to her and Tamis swore she could hear his back sigh in relief. They could do something about those sore muscles, she knew a number of natural remedies, but could not recall any of them at the moment.

“You do not have to sleep on the floor,” she offered distantly, letting her eyes sneak closed again. Just resting then, she assured herself. The bed really did feel nice. Soft, plush, and comfortable. Though she now had a stronger appreciate for strong, muscular, and warm, she allowed. Yes, that was not too bad, either.

Archer did not bother to pay much mind to her comment about him being stubborn.  She was usually the stubborn one and he ignored it on the principle he wanted to have a pleasant rest of the evening and not stress her out until she fell asleep.  It wouldn’t be long anyway and the chances of her remembering much of this were very slim.  He didn’t really know all of the effects of the two herbs mixed together, but he was fairly sure it was not going to result in a totally restful sleep that would have her completely fine the next morning. 

Squeak said she would get over it in the morning, but that did not necessarily she would be fully recovered.  He thought he recalled something about valerian from training that it was quite strong and could result in agitation after the effects wore off, but he didn’t really know if it was tat or something else.  It was never his favorite part of training –as he teased Ray about it – you had to be a hippie to really enjoy that sort of thing.  It had, over the years, earned him many punches to the arm. 

When he finally settled her down, he was sure she would drift right off, but instead, she made a comment that actually made Archer turn his head and regard her with caution for a moment.  That came out of nowhere and he raised his eyebrows at her.  “Ray,” he put his hand on her shoulder, “We’re working on it.  And you are completely safe.  I can assure you of that.”  Honesty, in this case, was not feigned. 

He would do whatever it took to keep her safe, and even if that meant being a little overtired and overworked, so be it.  Besides, he could rest.  He had a host of alerts set up all over the building that would allow him to be prepared for almost anything.  Keeping his wand on his side at all times, he wasn’t worried about not knowing anything that was going on and settled down even further on the bed.  He just seemed to slip down from the fully upright position – perhaps he was tired too. 

“Thanks, Ray.  I think I’m going to take you up on that,” he chuckled softly, yawning just a tad. His eyelids were a bit heavy, and it was evident he had not gotten enough sleep either.  Even though it was a queen size bed, it was a comfortably close range, and Archer was glad for it - he could feel her next to him even if he shut his eyes... dammit, he thought, shaving.

“That is not what I am worried about.” The words were no longer coming out stagmented, but the words felt sluggish in her mouth, as if someone had numbed the back of her throat. “If I had been a target, there would have been funeral arrangements by now.” Which was what she had argued when they insisted on this ridiculous assignment. She had noted Aberdeen Spencer had been a little off of late but had deemed it either to ill health or Kabir Ahmed’s case. If they had been attempting to destroy Level Two’s hierarchy, she would not have perceived the threat any better than the departed Gawain Robards had. 

No, the goal was not to outright attack the government. They were being cleverer than that.   That was what bothered her.

The hand on her shoulder seemed to placate her – the confidence in the assurance of her safety had been sweet --, or perhaps, she just was not interested in arguing it further. She felt the bed shift as his weight fell more heavily on it. That meant he was lying down and therefore gaining some semblance of rest as well. She could live with that. 

Another, much lighter weight, joined the congregation on the bed. Since she doubted it was Squeak, there was only one other living creature it could be. The purring that ensued from Archer’s side of the bed confirmed the identity a moment later. “Cat,” she murmured, both naming the creature and identifying the species.

Said Cat rubbed her feline face against Archer’s and licked the tip of his nose with her rough, sand-paper tongue. It was disturbingly unusual. Cat never took to anyone, not even Tamis. And she was the one that fed her … usually.

He did not like the way she was speaking.  Part of this special herbal tea thing was good, but her candidness was even worse than usual and he was quite perturbed by the fact she was acting like that.  Granted, she was right.  IF they wanted to kill her, they certainly would have – of course, regardless of the situation, Archer was fairly sure the perpetrator would not have gotten out alive.  Immediate reflex would have been to strike, regardless.  Ray would always be, in many ways, one of the only people that he would react so violently about.  She joined the ranks of his immediate family in that respect, so to hear her even talk about the prospect… it made his stomach churn slightly. 

She had a point, regardless of her ability to hold up her head or not, and he sighed.  It was a conversation he did not want to have right now.  Granted they would have to talk about it at some point, but it was a work conversation and with only one of them on duty, it was not the conversation he wanted to have.  No, this evening he was not concerned with that and he murmured something that sounded vaguely along the lines of not now, but was also tired and did not want her to ask too many questions about it.

When he was finally fully comfortable, he lifted his wrist to his face, checking the dragon leather band watch, setting the alarm like he needed to.  It would beep on his wrist – considering she was going to go out like a log, it wouldn’t matter anyway.  Archer closed his eyes for a moment, sensing the quiet in the room, and the way the bed felt almost luxurious in comparison with the floor, he did not even try to stifle his own yawn. 

He was about to turn his head when he felt something bound up onto the bed and onto his chest.  With a little “oof,” he cracked open his eyes and blinked, seeing the cat on his chest.  For a moment he almost jumped out of the bed, but Ray did not seem fazed, and then it rubbed its face against him – was that purring?  He could only stare at the creature – eyes widening as it licked his nose.  He could not believe it – he did not even like cats. 

“I didn’t know you had a cat,” he replied with all honesty.  It was a surprise, mostly because it was probably always hiding.  He had been here for days and he had no idea.  Bad observation skills, he reasoned.  Perhaps he did not need to sleep after all.  Reaching up, he stroked the cat’s head, and it settled on his chest, staring back at him while vibrating like some sort of badly crafted muggle machine.  “I am not a cat person,” he said out loud for no particular reason, wondering if Ray was even awake as he idly ran his hand over the cat’s curved back. 

Perhaps she had been a bit crude. More than ‘perhaps,’ she decided when Archer shrugged off the conversation with incoherent mutters. So, she let that dog lie back down and did not provoke it again. The truth was that Tamis Raynor saw herself as expendable, all Aurors in essence were. The possibility of dying in service of the government was a realistic one. They were the pawns, the dogs as it were (in her case, literally). Growing up, the cold corrupt Ministry had been the closest, twisted entity she had to a family. While she knew she joined the Auror Corps after Tait’s death for justice, she also knew she had done it out of searching for a feeling of security. Her world had been torn asunder and she had sulking returned to the one structure that had always been stable in her life.

It was a depressing thought when she delved into it too deeply. For sanity’s sake, she abandoned it.

Sighing long and heavily through her nose, Tamis let the remainder of her weight sink fully into the plush contours of the mattress. A notable insomniac of multiple years Squeak had spared little expense in that luxury of life. From fluffy pillow tops, to magically altered foam pads that could detect an appropriate level of firmness and comfort based on size, weight, and build. She was not sure where the house elf had found the sheets, but they were of a decent quality as well. It had to have been expensive. The little creature insisted that if her Mistress was not going to use the family funds, Squeak would at least use them on her Mistress. Despite all these efforts (and to Squeak’s dismay) she had never really been able to appreciate them, until now.

Which was odd. It was not the first time she had an induced sleep – if the first time since her promotion to Head Auror. She still had never felt quite this… relaxed or at ease.

Eyes now indefinitely closed, she was keenly aware of the uncomfortable warmth emanating from her bunny slipper-clad feet. It was bothersome, but she did not have the energy or motivation to attempt to kick them off. She shifted her position and when they remained, she left them alone. Not a major issue anyway.

The purring and Archer’s voice were coming from a distance now, despite the close proximity. “Cat,” she repeated again, as if it were a single-syllable explanation he could understand. “Part kneazle.” Luckily without the trademark tail. But they were a notorious judge of character and had an aptitude to picking out individuals with ill-intentions. Obviously, Cat did not find anything horribly ill-advised about Archer. Tamis might have pondered that, if she had been awake.

But her breathing had evened and her face had relaxed and Tamis Raynor was in the deepest sleep she had had in the last few months, if not the last four years. If she had any luck at all, that sleep would be blissfully dreamless.

Cat, on the hand, was very nocturnal in nature and had no such notions of sleep. Instead, she arched up against the hand that ran down her back, kneading the man’s chest. Tail swishing, the feline flopped against his chest and rolled, still purring as she considered him with those large, clear yellow-green eyes.

He did not know if she had named the creature cat, or was just telling him what it was again – though he was sure he knew what a cat was.  She must have named her own pet Cat.  Alright, well, that didn’t surprise him.  It also wasn’t much of a surprise when she indicated the cat was half kneazle.  That was something she would do – own a pet that was distinctly wizarding, at least partially.  It certainly didn’t look like the kneazles he saw in Diagon, so he assumed it was only a half-breed. 

Whatever the other breed was, it made for an interesting looking cat – one that really liked Archer.  He didn’t have pets, though if he did, it would certainly not be a cat.  He had always considered getting something, but his long hours and unwavering dedication to work disallowed for such a venture, particularly because he would want some sort of canine.  If only crups were larger – he’d be happy to have one, but it would look ridiculous trotting alongside him on some chain when it was barely up to his knee.  No, that wouldn’t do at all.  He lived in a wizarding area, so exposure to muggles would be limited at best… he would have to look into it.

The problem was, he promised himself he would go do something and then something else inevitably got in the way.  It was like he was purposefully putting off the things he wanted.  Thankfully, right now, he was doing something he intended on doing for a long time – making headway with Ray and just relaxing.  The cat was amusing enough in its own right, kneading at his chest (nails pricking slightly – this was why he was not a cat person), and then rolled over, exposing soft belly fur and purring even louder as a result. 

Archer gently rubbed the fur (he didn’t want to hurt it by being too rough) and yawned, lifting it from her stomach and placing it on the side of the bed.  He turned on his side, the only way he could comfortably sleep and saw Ray in a somewhat awkward position, though appeared comfortable and breathing steadily, slowly, with her eyes shut.  Her lips were parted just a tad and her hair was everywhere, but she looked peaceful and content.  Stretching a little, Archer sighed as the cat trekked over his legs and perched in the space between himself and Ray. 

She looked at him with her greenish eyes and meowed, rolling over on her side and against his stomach.  The cat was going to provide an interesting barrier, and scooted up toward his hand, her whiskers tickling the sides of his hand.  He yawned again and glanced at his watch - he could get a little less than an hour of sleep, but it'd be alright.  He could use it regardless.  And with that, he closed his eyes. The bed was so much better than the floor.