Pam woke up at 8:30 on a warm August Saturday to find her husband still sleeping in bed next to them. She could hardly blame him. He had spent the entire previous day working on their lawn and pool, and it had been one of the hottest days of the year. Too hot for them to wear clothes to bed. They'd pulled a sheet over them, but Pam, as was the usual, had pulled the whole blanket to her side. Most mornings, Jim woke up before Pam, and Pam didn't get to see how peaceful Jim looked like this. His face was snuggled right up at the middle of the bed, and since Pam had gotten up, Jim had pulled her blanket into his chest with his toned arms. His hair was mostly smooth, but occasional tufts stuck out, in a way Pam thought was totally adorable. Pam saw the sketchbook and charcoal pencils she had left on his nightstand the previous evening, and silently grabbed them along with her robe, pulling Jim's desk chair next to their bed as she sketched. She started by drawing their bed, which had a simple oak frame and purple plush pillows. She then drew the outlines, from Jim's disheveled hair, to his muscular arms, to his torso to his legs, which were woven with a bit of the blanket. She then filled in the details of his hair and face, shading in the puff he had at his forehead which she so enjoyed, and delicately drawing his drooped eyebrows and lips. The torso required minimal work, due to the pillow he was clutching, so she added the necessary detail to his arms, and then moved to the area between his legs. She'd never even considered doing a nude portrait before, and felt herself blush as she did it. She looked up to find Jim's eyelashes fluttering open.
"Babe, what are you doing?" Jim asked, his voice low, groggy, and gravelly as he rolled to the other side of bed and stood up, moving next to her.
"Nothing," Pam quickly responded, shutting the notebook quickly as he walked behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Come on, Beasley. I've heard that one a million times." Jim said, leaning forward to open the book back up and flip through the pages, looking for a drawing he hadn't seen before.
"Jim, it's not finished!" Pam protested just before he landed on the page she'd just been drawing on. "You just looked so peaceful. I wanted you to be able to see it, because you probably see me looking like that every morning, but you always wake up first, so neither of us gets to see how peaceful you look in the morning.
Jim crouched down so he was right next to Pam's ear. "Draw me like one of your french girls," Jim whispered in a female British voice.
"I hate you," Pam laughed, hitting Jim in the chest.
"You sure?" Jim asked, kissing her cheekbone and slowly tracing the hem of her robe with his index finger.
"Well, hate is a strong word." Pam said softly.
"Thought you might change your mind," Jim said, punctuating his sentence with a slow but brief kiss to the lips. "How about we get dressed, and I take this gorgeous girl I spent the night with last night to breakfast?"
"Sounds perfect." Pam said, standing up and kissing Jim again.