Rowan yawned as he absentmindedly flipped through the pages of one of the books that Wren had brought him.
It had been a while since Wren had vanished inside to cook, and the urge to nap had crept up on him as he half-reclined on the pillows in the sun. He really was still worn out by everything that had happened to him, and his eyelids had grown heavier and heavier as he waited, until he was struggling to keep them open at all.
Actually, other than when Wren had given him a bath and massage after he'd absorbed the poison at the cemetery, this was the first time Rowan could ever recall truly relaxing for an extended period of time in the care of another person.
He could tell it was doing Wren good to shower him with his attentiveness and small gestures, but Rowan could admit that it was doing *him* good, too.
It felt nice, this reciprocity between them, the give and take that came so easily now.
