Summary: Future fic. Established relationship Jane/Kurt. Jane really loves Sundays.
Sunday afternoons in spring are her favourite. When they finally make it out of bed, yes, in the afternoon, and he finds a spot on the lounger by the ceiling high windows overlooking the city, the sun sneaking in lazily. He sits there with a newspaper, enjoying the warm sunlight, usually in nothing more than a pair of pyjama pants, or shorts. She watches him from her spot in the kitchen as she makes coffee, the only thing she does better in the kitchen than he does.
She joins him then, two coffee mugs - matching Han Solo and Princess Leia mugs - a gift from Reade a few Christmases before - placed carefully on the small table next to the window and she settles between his legs, rests her back against chest, and he kisses her shoulder, clad in one of his shirts - she rarely wears anything else at home - usually the light blue one he was wearing the day they first met, it reminds her of what it felt the first time she knew what safe meant, what home meant. They spend the next hour or so like that, wrapped in each other, reading the paper and solving the cross word puzzle together.
They eventually get up and get dressed early in the evening and go for a walk. They love the city then, when it enjoys a rare moment of quiet, the bustle of the midday crowds dying out, and the rush of the night crawlers yet to begin. They walk hand in hand through the urban jungle, a chance to experience this glorious city in a way they cannot during their day to day, when they're either speeding down the streets in an SUV or running madly through its chaos chasing criminals.
They eventually find a small coffee shop and sit down for a late lunch - early dinner - usually when her stomach growls loudly because they haven't eaten yet, not since the night before and they've completely forgotten. They order two dishes but always end up stealing each other's plate half way through. And sometimes they just grab something from their favourite deli and go to the park, find a quiet spot and spend the next few hours there. She loves those days. And so does he. Especially when she brings a book along. It's amazing watching her read all the classics, the ones she reads for the first time, and fall in love with them.
He watches her as she reads, lying down with her head in his lap. He spends the whole time just watching her, the way her eyes widen in shock, or she bites her lip in anticipation, or her eyes swell with unshed tears over fictional characters she's falling in love with. They've spent entire afternoons with her reading whole novels and him just watching her, and when she finishes, finally coming back to join him in reality, she smiles sheepishly at him, apologising that she's lost track of time but he just smiles back and shakes his head, tells her she has no idea how much he has enjoyed those three hours, lying down in the grass, with her head against his chest, watching her read. He kisses her then, softly, gently and it's more magical than all those kisses in those books she spends hours devouring.
After the sun sets, and the city comes back to life, they walk back home, hand in hand, and she cannot wait for Monday to come because that means another Sunday is just around the corner.