Disclaimer: Though not named, they are not mine.
A/N: Sometimes I get butterflies and I have to write them into a story.
She felt cool fingertips sliding over her forehead and moving to tuck a strand of fallen hair behind her ear. The fingers were followed by warm lips that left gentle kisses peppered on her face. She tried to keep her eyes closed for a moment longer, loving this quiet time with him, even if he didn't know it was happening.
"You awake yet?"
Foiled again. He was on to her plan.
"Not quite. Try again."
He chuckled, the rich sound coming from deep in his chest. His hand moved down her arm and settled on her stomach, his thumb stroking her skin gently.
"Awake now?"
"Under protest."
"Hungry?"
"I don't know. What are you going to do if I say no?"
"Drag you out of bed anyway."
She grinned and rolled over in his arms, locking her eyes with his. She had never been a morning person, but he was, and he wanted her to be one too. She wouldn't trade the look in his eyes for any extra time with her pillow, no matter what.
He leaned down very slowly, teasing her in the moments before his lips came down and captured hers. Her eyes fell closed as she sunk back against the bed. Every kiss was like the first one, but also so new, and she wished the mind was capable of cataloging every single one.
"Come on," he said, pulling back just slightly. "Let's go make breakfast."
"Give me fifteen minutes."
He nodded and placed another kiss on her forehead before he left the room. She stood up and stretched, letting her back pop before she went into the bathroom. The shower was fast and she dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt and toweled her hair nearly dry. She glanced down and noticed that her toes needed repainting. The dark red was chipping off. She shrugged and padded into the kitchen, finding him getting all the breakfast ingredients out of the cupboards.
"So when you said breakfast, I didn't know you meant actual food. I thought you meant Frosted Flakes."
"It's Saturday. I thought it was a foregone conclusion."
She chuckled and took the blueberries out of the freezer.
"I knew there was a reason I married you," he said, pulling a blueberry out of the bag.
"The whole being in love and wanting to spend your life with me was secondary to my addition of blueberries to your pancakes?"
He fed her the blueberry and smiled.
"They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
She snickered and moved to the stove, turning on the burner underneath the frying pan.
"Bacon?"
"You start that and I'll make the pancakes."
"Deal."
They set to work, both purposefully getting in each other's way for the next twenty minutes until breakfast was ready. She pulled the plates out of the cupboard and felt his hands settle on her hips.
"What'cha doin'?"
"Nothin'."
She turned around, keeping the plates between them.
"Go set the table."
"Yes ma'am."
He put their plates down on the table and poured them each a glass of orange juice.
"So what's on the agenda for today?" he asked as she sat down next to him.
"We need to go pick up that present for my mom, and we need to get the rest of the food for Easter."
"Remind me again why you offered to host Easter dinner here?"
"Remind me again why you are still confused about this."
"You're such a brat."
"You love me, so who has the bigger problem here?"
"I'm just going to read the paper."
"Can I have half?"
He handed her the Life and Entertainment section while he took the Sports and front page for himself. They finished their food and newspaper in relative silence, their feet meeting in a shy, middle school dance under the table.
"Are you going to be ready to go soon?" she asked, standing up from the table and taking their plates to the sink.
"Yeah. By the time you do your hair and put your make-up on even though I don't think you have to."
"You're the only person in the world that can compliment me and not make me feel awkward."
"I suppose that's good, right?"
"I hope so."
He pulled her down into his lap and kissed her softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him there while his hands traveled up and down her back.
"We'd better go," she said, pulling away from him.
"But-"
"You're stuck with me for life. There's plenty of time for that later."
He chuckled and let her stand up.
"Alright, but only if you promise."
"Pinkie swear."
He chuckled and stood up from the table.
"I'll be ready to go in a few minutes. Warm up the car?"
"That's a man's job."
He rolled his eyes and left the room.
Evening found them both in old, well worn sweats, cuddled up on the couch with a blanket and reruns of COPS. They were sharing a bowl of popcorn, the majority of which had ended up on the floor during their fight for the remote. She was tucked under his chin, almost dozing as the TV played and his fingers ran slowly through her hair. She was almost drooling.
"Maybe you should go to bed, honey."
"Nah. Not unless you're going too."
"Oh really?"
"It's cold in there without you. I like it right here."
"Me too."
She smiled, never wanting anything to change. It wasn't glamorous, and it wasn't all that exciting to the outsider. But it is what she had been craving her entire life. It was what she needed. She'd never give up this warmth and security and love. Not for anything.
