[The question itself doesn't quite take him surprise, but the small note of hesitance he can hear in her voice, in that pause, does. He lets out a soft chuckle that rises from somewhere deep in his chest, opening his eyes once more to turn his gaze on her without turning his head, warm, boyish smile persisting.

He's sure he would look completely foolish to anyone else, with how much he's been smiling lately, but to be quite honest, he doesn't much care what anyone else thinks of him at the moment. He feels happier and more himself than he has in years, thanks to her.]

Dearest, you can stay as many nights as you wish, as far as I'm concerned. My door is always open to you, and what's mine is yours.

[Some men, he reckons, might be a touch hesitant about making such an open, standing offer, but he has always been one to pursue what he wants once he's certain of what, exactly, that is. Whatever may or may not happen when she stays does not matter nearly as much as her presence, her company. Even if they were to simply read their own books on the same sofa in companionable silence, he would be overjoyed.]

I rather enjoy waking up next to you.