So I started working on this about six weeks ago and I finally was able to put the finish on it. If you want to truly OD on the sweetness, read this while listening to One Sweet Love by Sara Bareilles.
Title : Pure Morning
Genre: Pure unadulterated gooey fluff. Bring your toothbrushes kids cuz this one will give ya cavities.
Rating : PG-13 for one sexual reference but otherwise pretty PG
Summary : Roxanne wakes up early and watches her boyfriend sleep in.
Authors Note : In my braincanon, this story takes place in the same world my other fluffy one shot, Drunk. But I think it stands on its own. However if you liked Drunk, you will probably like this one too.
Most mornings he was up before her. He simply needed less sleep then she did, in fact he could do perfectly well with a mere five or six hours. So if they went to bed together, she almost always woke up alone. Which is why it was truly a pleasant surprise when she stirred today and still felt his body pressed against hers.
It was a marvelous opportunity to open her sleepy eyes and look at him. She didn't know why he was still asleep, but she was struck by how adorable she found his face, his expression peaceful with his beautiful green eyes squeezed closed. She watched him take in slow deliberate breathes that moved his lithe body up and down against her. There were moments like this where she was simply contented to be close to him.
As usual he was curled up against her side, his chin resting on the top of her breast and the rest of his large head pressed against her shoulder. By now she was mostly used to sleeping with his arm around her waist and hers around his blue back. He had his own pillow of course, but he rarely used it, always claiming to get a better nights' sleep when he was pressed to her skin. Still, sometimes she had to roll him so she could sleep on her side. Then he would sleepily lean back against her, asking her without words to make him her little spoon.
Just one of many little moments that were pure Megamind. With everyone else she had ever slept with, she was always the little spoon. No one ever asked - she was the girl so she just was. And she never got to lay flat on her back the way she preferred. But he had never made those assumptions and she enjoyed both the comfort and novelty of the way they slept. She was happy to wrap her arms around him entirely and press her front into his back. And he fit so perfectly along her side in what she privately referred to as his place, giving her a perfect angle to cover his large forehead with sweet little kisses.
But this morning she felt a bit stiff at that angle so she shifted her weight, putting them both on their sides facing each other. That was better and he didn't stir. It also gave her a better view of his sharp jawline, relaxed brow, cute goatee, and perfectly proportional nose. She still almost chuckled inside whenever she thought things like that. She had looked at him on an almost weekly basis for years but never let herself look at him like that, haunted by the voice in the back of her mind whispering 'Stockholm Syndrome'. But now she was making up for lost time and she relished moments where she let herself be completely spellbound by him.
She wanted to reach out and stroke the side of his face but she didn't want to wake him. She would rather continue to watch his blissful sleep and meditate on what had brought them to this lovely morning.
He still liked to call her Miss Ritchie. She hated it when people called her Roxie or some other diminutive version of her name. He sometimes called her sweetie or love but Miss Ritichie was truly his pet name for her. To anyone else it might seem plain, like it was just her name. But coming from him it echoed their unconventional history back to her and made it special and unique.
When she would pad downstairs to find him sipping coffee and reading science journals in the morning he would often greet her with "Miss Ritchie, we meet again" and a delightful smile in his eyes. She would banter back with him, flirting more outrageously then she ever let herself do back in the old days. Other times she would just kiss his cheek and ask him what he was working on today.
Then the tiny twitch of his fingers, tangled in the hem of the soft tank top she slept in, pulled her back to this moment. She often woke to him gripping her pajamas in some fashion. This time, his long blue fingers were curled as they rested gently against her stomach. For some reason this simple gesture moved her deeply. He was always doing things like this; seemingly unaware of how they showed the million tiny ways he adored her. Simply having him here, so close, so warm, and so free with his affections even after everything they had been through together. Just when she thought that she couldn't love him more, that her heart wasn't capable of it, he would touch her in a simple ordinary way and she would wonder how she ever functioned without being able to have him like this.
And he did so love to touch her. When he saw her at the end of the day, he would put down whatever experiment or project he was working on to rush over and wrap her in his arms. He was constantly lacing their fingers together or resting a hand on the small of her back while walking down the street or just standing in her kitchen talking. If they sat on the sofa he put his arm behind her, or more likely, used her generous thighs as the perfect pillow for his generous head. She couldn't begin to count how often he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder, for no other reason than because he adored making contact with her.
At first she thought it was the novelty of being with her, and that amazement was defiantly a part of it. But when she had asked him about it, he said that it must have been the way it was with his people. He explained that was what he remembered of his parents and how as an infant he spent most nights curled up on the Warden's shoulder, bawling if the man tried to set him in his own bed. Even as he got older, he couldn't sleep without clutching Minion tightly to himself. Then had come the disastrous experience at the Lil Gifted School and he had started pushing people away – literally. Minion was the only one he let touch him and he covered himself in thick leather so he would feel safe.
She remembered the day they found his old school photo. Even now thinking of it she instinctively held him tighter and curled one hand around to rest on the back of his large cranium.
They were shuffling through boxes and files of all his old evil plans, trying to see which ones could be used for good and it was at the bottom of a box of jumbled papers. She had looked at that photo and her heart broke.
All those happy smiling children, clustered together, and him off to the side looking so lost and made to not belong. Her finger brushed his face in the photograph, wishing she could reach back through time and reassure this child that it would all be ok.
She had noticed him watching her nervously as she fingered the photograph. It took her a moment to figure out his expression, but then came the realization that he was afraid that she would see the photo and see what those children did, a freak. Instead she had leaned in and wrapped him in her arms. She gave him light sweet kisses on his luscious blue lips and nuzzled her forehead against his to reassure him. He had held her for a quiet moment, chewing his bottom lip, before they resumed the more lighthearted task of examining plans for Robo Sheep and Typhoon Cheese.
Today she closed her eyes, happy and peaceful to have him in her arms, thankful yet again for the strange turn of events that had finally brought them together and made him realize that he could be more than a villain.
And she breathed in his scent deeply as he slumbered on. He smelled like leather and oil, graphite pencils with a slight hint of burning. But under that was a hint of something that was uniquely him. She tasted it intensely when their tongues met and it was strongest when he came gushing into her eager mouth. She breathed him in again and as usual it made her dizzy. This was her man. Her silly sexy smart spaceman.
A moment passed. It could have lasted a minute or an hour, she wasn't exactly sure. Sometimes in moments like this her sense of time abandoned her and there was nothing but the connection between them. When she sleepily batted her eyes open again, a pair of sparkling green ones were looking at her.
"Good morning Miss Ritchie. You're wiggly this morning," he said sweetly, squeezing her tight around the waist then moving in to nuzzle her with his forehead.
"Mmm," she gave a happy sigh as she melted further into his embrace. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's ok. How are we going to spend our special day together if I sleep through it all?" He kissed her softly on the cheek.
"You slept late today," she observed, her hands stroking small circles on his back and head with her finger tips. Despite his tendency to cling to her with the grip of a barnacle, she knew he also loved her small light touches.
"Mmmhmm," he responded sleepily, and she noticed his eyes drooped closed again as he resumed the familiar sensation of nuzzling his face into hers. She kissed his ample forehead and closed her eyes as well. She continued to stroke his smooth blue skin and simply let herself enjoy the feeling of being here, in her bed with her boyfriend.
These were the best moments, when they were just together and could fall into their connection, this easy calm that flowed between them. They could talk, or not talk at all. And it didn't matter because it was as though the energy that flowed between them was perfectly calibrated to make them both smile. Time became elastic again as the moment stretched before them.
Then he slid his feet over and covered her left foot with both of his. She gave a happy sigh. There was something about the feel of his bare feet on her feet that made her heart race. He knew of this weakness of hers and exploited it often. Now, suddenly more awake, he kissed the corners of her mouth and smiled.
"It seems I have your foot in my evil clutches Miss Ritchie".
She opened her eyes and giggled, kissing him sweetly on the lips.
"Oh no, whatever shall I do?" she feigned innocence and rubbed her nose against his. "My boyfriend will never stand for this. He will come and rescue my foot you villain." And then both of them were giggling and kissing, their happy sighs and noises melded together until she wasn't sure where one started and the other ended.
Eventually they had to come up for air. "Happy anniversary Roxanne," he whispered, his elated face bathed in the early morning sunshine.
"Happy anniversary Megamind," she replied, bringing her lips back home to find his.