Their first instinct is to stay where they are, but the day won't wait for them to be ready. With hair tousled and the glorious realm of sleep still calling to them, one Mathias Faulkner and Elizabeth Bell slowly sit up in their bed, her a few minutes after him, both stifling yawns and rubbing at eyes.
She squeezes her eyes shut and crinkles her nose as she stretches her arms above her head, succumbing to temptation and leaning her head against his shoulder, nearly falling back to slumber as soon as she does.
Slightly rough fingertips touch at her hair, brushing the stray strands from her cheek.
"Come on, dearest."
"…I dun wanna…"
"But we—"
"…wanna go back to sleep…"
She embraces him lovingly before slumping back to the mattress, pulling him down with her in a tangle of limbs.
"Dearest."
She clings to him a little tighter.
"Noooo…"
"I will get up and piggyback you around the house if I have to."
"…great idea…"
"…and you will still do your assigned chores and cooking."
"…noooo."
He nearly heaves a sigh, but he doesn't want to hurt her feelings, and especially not so early in the morning.
"Come along now…"
He carefully sits up, and as he gently pulls her up with him, he hears a small moan of protest, though she immediately relents. She clings a little tighter to him before burying her face in the fabric of his night shirt, and he swears he hears something that sounds suspiciously like "dun wanna".
"Remember your chores?"
She nods slowly, rubbing an eye.
"Should we go over them?"
She shakes her head "no".
Slowly but surely they stumble out of their bed, pulling up sheets and blankets and tucking loose edges beneath the mattress. She lags briefly as they leave their bedroom, trudging behind him towards the living area to, if he didn't know any better, curl up on the fluffy sofa for an early morning nap.
She reaches down, smoothing out the wrinkles in the tablecloth before setting towards the kitchen, pulling a cast-iron pan from a wide cabinet and setting it on the stove before setting her sights on the icebox. He sees the shiver as she reaches in, withdrawing a lump of butter and a pair of dodo eggs for frying.
The sounds and smells of sizzling butter and eggs soon reaches his ears and his nose, and he slowly approaches her, a gentle touch to her lower back.
"Are you alright?"
She nods.
"Are you sure?"
She nods again.
His gaze drops to the contents of the cast-iron pan, an eyebrow raised.
"…you're frying the eggs a little too well."
She pauses, then blinks.
"…so I am."
He casts her a side glance.
"…you know, after we clean this up, maybe we should go back to bed."
She leans her head against his shoulder, heaving a great sigh as her eyes slide shut, and the faintest of smiles tugs at her mouth.
"Great idea."