Disappointment flooded through her when he didn't immediately move to touch her. They'd both "slept" in the same bed now, each one taking their turn as the vulnerable one, and that kind of shared intimacy was not something she'd ever had with anyone. Ever. The few times she'd slept with a man at her side in her human life, it had been anything but intimate. But this? She was starting to realize that she didn't really know who she was without him anymore. When he wasn't there, he consumed her thoughts. When he was, he consumed her senses. Once he was well again, she might need to take some time to herself, to regain that sense of self that she seemed to lose the minute he looked at her. She wondered if he'd understand. He seemed genuinely happy when she was around, and she was loathe to take that away from him. She knew he cared about her a great deal, but she wondered if that extended to knowing her. Did he know her well enough to understand that sometimes, when they got too close, she needed to run away for her own safety? She was a demon, and while loving someone was not a foreign concept for her, being cared for in return apparently was. She'd thought Alastair's respect had been the same as caring. She'd thought Azazel's respect might have been the same. She'd thought Lucifer's kindness had been love.
But she'd been wrong. She could see that now. She could see why it had taken her so long to abandon her doubts about him, considering what her limited experience with kindness had been.
His question brought a smile to her lips.
"Most movies have different endings, Clarence," she teased. She thought she might have an idea why he would ask, though. The last time they'd watched a movie together it had left them both feeling a bit confused, but Meg wasn't truly confused anymore. Not about him, anyway. She'd chosen this particular film because it was the single least confusing, downright happy film she had, though she had a mild worry that the singing might confuse him. She decided that, since she was clearly so incapable of keeping to her own rules about contact, she might as well enjoy herself. She slid closer to him on the bed and reclined, resting her head in his lap and curling her arms under her head as a pillow, her face turned towards the television, so she couldn't see his reaction. It was an innocent form of contact. She could deal with innocent for the time being.