She wakes up at 5:30 every morning. Not a minute before, not a minute after. It's winter now, and the frozen air bites at her viciously, but she is a trained soldier. She's handled a lot worse things than cold mornings.

Everything she does in the morning is timed down to the millisecond. Her shower, 20 minutes. Breakfast, 20. Getting dressed and preparing for the day, 10 minutes. Walking to Headquarters, 20. Making the colonel's coffee, 5 minutes. Then the day goes on, she goes home, and the cycle starts the next day.

She wakes up, 5:30. But this morning, she sighs. Sometimes I wish I could have someone that would make me slack a bit.

Then she wonders, does he have timed mornings as well? Does he wake up alert and ready to be productive too?


He doesn't.

He pressed the snooze on at least a dozen times, and when he forces himself to get up, it's 6:47. But he's mastered the art of pulling things together at the last minute. He takes a 5 minute shower, eats a 5 minute breakfast, does an expert shaving job and is out by 6:55. What do you know, he's only 10 minutes late today, and the scolding from his lieutenant isn't nearly as scathing as any other day.

He tells himself he should get up when he's supposed to, and he makes a vow that the next day he will. But when he wakes up, the bitter Winter air is too cold and his bed is too warm, so he vows that the next day he'll do it.

He sighs into his pillow. Sometimes I wish I could have someone to keep me on track. Rolling over on his back, he smirks.

One day, he thought to himself. One day.


They wake up together. It's spring now, the air is warm, and the blankets only cover half their bodies. His arms are around her waist and she is pressed against him. Their noses touch, but they don't speak. She gets up to begin making breakfast. He pulls her back down on the bed with a playful glint in his eye, then climbs on top of her. She tries to push him off, telling him there's no time to do this now.

But there is. He somehow always gets her to comply.

She gets up a while after their morning "roll in the hay" to move across their too big bedroom into their too big kitchen in their too big house. He said it was a nice place, that they'd need the space for a lot of things that he couldn't name at the moment, but she knew. She knew why he decided on a house that had three extra bedrooms, and it was only a matter of time before each of them were slowly filled by a carbon copy of each parent.

She smiles at this thought while cooking eggs, and he comes up from behind her, freshly showered and warm in his bathrobe. Kisses her ear and thanking her. Not just for breakfast, that she knows. He's thanking her for every morning they spend and will spend together.

And when she abandons the eggs, turning around to kiss him with such a ferocity that their lips would bruise, she thanks him too.


Hey!

I was up at 2 in the morning last night doing homework listening to Half Alive by Secondhand Serenade and thus, this drabble was born! I was struggling to find a way how to end it all day. But I finished it! And for only functioning off of an hour of sleep, I feel pretty satisfied with how this turned out. But I didn't mention their names for a reason. I don't know why, but I felt I didn't really have to. Hope you like! Please review or favorite, it makes me happy :) And thank you very very much to those who favorited/reviewed my previous story/stories! Kisses to you! Anyway, sorry for this rant. Love y'all!

xoxoxoxox,

ChloeLoveee