Normally, Morgan never pestered Robin before waking, but today he had some sort of bug up his butt, or, in this case, on his cheeks. He climbs up onto her cot like it's Christmas morning, hovering over her sleeping self in a straddle. Knees knocking against her hips and gravity shifting become the first signals to waking.
"m O M cAN I HA vE A KISS?" Palms splayed on either side of her neck lean him over her head as his request calls her consciousness to attention. Inflection sounds almost INHUMAN and broken, like he speaks through a pillowcase. She blames it on barely roused ears, even if tucked beneath the mumbling is the same excitement as when he tries to lead her into a trap…
Blearly lids open to meet the black and brown "eyes" of a giant moth. Perched much too happily on his nose, her son wears its wings like a blasted mask. She blinks while attempting to comprehend the sight, and then,
"KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGH!"
Her chest feels so heavy; she can't even breathe between the weight of the boy, remnants of sleep still on her soul, and her lungs collapsing to scream out every last bit of air they could possibly contain. Fortunately, her holler scares the creature to flying away, but unfortunately it does so by fluttering against her face , strangled, and panicked, she flails, and Morgan must have been expecting it, because he clings to cot rails like some sort of damn monkey, hooting laughter all the same. At least he's happy.
He doesn't even have to say it; she can hear his voice in her head clearly, How cool was that!
She'dnever say it out loud, trampling all over his interests and crushing him like she wants to do to the damn critter that invades her personal space, but, Not cool. Gross!
When she can finally gasp back enough air, vocal chords turn it into the single, most beautiful syntax a mother can manage, "NO." Hands shoo at him, not pushing him away, but neither letting him anywhere near her lips, "At least not until you wash up, young man. Do you know how many diseases that thing could be carrying?"
(But of course washing up in itself would become the gentle massage of her fingers against his scalp, and about a thousand kisses to his ears and shoulders in the process.)