I'll be there if you want me to
No one else that could ever do
Got to get some peace in my mind
/
The sound of sirens blaring through the street wakes you, although only slightly. Your brain is fuzzy as you bury your face deeper into the pillow. You feel slightly drunk as your body slowly begins to wake and you feel the soft cotton of her bed sheets swallow you whole, brushing smoothly over your naked frame. Your left eye peeks open, waiting to be blinded by the early morning sunrise that you know shines far too bright through her creamy coloured curtains. You've complained to her before, threatening to cover her window with blankets to keep out the light.
She just laughed and kissed you hard.
Your leg is numb with the weight pressed on it, you realise quickly it's the soft skin of her legs, thrown haphazardly over yours as she lies flat on her back, her head close to yours as she takes up more than half of the bed space.
Movement is not your main priority right now but you know for a fact that her alarm is going to start blaring any minute now and she's going to be cranky as hell. You feel as if you've only slept for an hour when its not actually that far off it, maybe three at most, it wasn't your fault of course, she was the one who suggested you stay the night even though it was a Sunday, it was definitely not your fault…
Okay, maybe it was partly your fault.
You reach over her sleeping frame, carefully grabbing her phone and cancelling the alarm fifteen minutes early. You're awake now, maybe not fully but the fact that the sun is literally hanging outside her window makes it far too bright to fall back asleep anyway.
You hold your weight above her for a moment, -ignoring the slight stab of pain in your chest- taking in her sleeping features before grinning and pressing your mouth to her collarbone that was peeking out from beneath the pale sheets. As you reached her shoulder she shifted beneath you, waking from her heavy sleep.
"Five more minutes, babe" She murmurs with a dream soaked voice, trying to turn herself onto her side, her arms flopping over your waist, trying to take you with her.
You let her.
You let her do anything; it may only have been a couple of months into your 'relationship' -the wonderful secret that the pair of you have kept quiet from prying eyes and gossiping mouths- yet you'd do anything for the brunette who had already captured your swinging brick of a heart.
On her side of the bed, your back to the window, the room doesn't seem as bright and you silently curse knowing that if you close your eyes, the combination of exhaustion and her heavy bed sheets would drown you and she'd be late.
You watch with a smile as her sleep-filled eyes open and quickly close again, shutting out the bright light from the sunrise.
"Told you, you need darker drapes" You lean forward and press your mouth to hers, her soft pink lips break into a smile beneath yours and slowly you meld together, her arms reaching around your neck and waist, pulling you against her warm, sleep burdened frame.
"Shut up" She mumbled, her eyes still closed as you brush her messy, bed hair back from her face.
.
It takes you a few minutes to realise that it's Monday. Without work to keep you on track, your days all meld into one and you can barely tell what day of the year it is without asking someone. A smile slowly spreads across your tired face as you pull your white t-shift over your head; this is the first time you've woken up with her on a Monday.
Monday is the beginning of a new week, its quickly recovering from the weekend, its busy and hectic and usually has you sitting at your desk or undercover somewhere wishing that Friday would roll around warp speed, but not recently. Weekdays for you have become a lonely wander around the city until your lungs ache because you haven't yet been cleared for your usual intense work-out routine, it's grabbing coffee somewhere and sending your girlfriend cheeky texts and replying to your over-worried mother who since the incident has taken to checking up on you every day despite the fact that you are pushing forty-five and know how to look after yourself.
You've never seen her on a Monday morning; you've never really known her weekday morning routine. Sometimes you would meet her at a diner just before eight and you would have a quick breakfast of too much coffee and innuendos that would make her blush and reach over the table to smack you before she'd stand to leave and return to her badass Benson role, the SVU lioness and you'd turn back into the persona you had been told to become -Ganzel's dog body- and sneak away from the booth, winking at her before slipping out the door and back into the underground world that your job had taken you to.
But not now, that was months ago, it was a life of backstabbing and hookers, drugs and gunshots and bleeding out on the street, Olivia gripping your hand with hers and pressing her weight down on your chest to stop the blood from staining the sidewalk.
Now it's quiet date nights, cooking for her when she gets back from work and trying to not overdo things as the bullet wound that covers the left side of your body does its best to heal. It's daily phone calls from your mother checking up on you and your sisters desperate for gossip on who your new girlfriend is and why she's with you, it's glasses of wine and long brunette hair splayed across your lap as she falls asleep half way through the movie she had picked and it's anxiety about the future of your career. A career spanning almost twenty years that now hangs in the balance, swinging limply in front of the police commission as they take their sweet-ass time to decide your fate.
You listen quietly as her voice filters into the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom. You know she's in the shower because you can hear the water hitting the bottom of the tub in uneven flows. She's humming to herself, you vaguely recognise the tune but couldn't even begin to guess the song.
The logical part of your brain knows you should finish getting ready and start making coffee for her while simultaneously trying not think about how she didn't freak out on you this morning, on how you actually stayed over on a work night and she didn't throw you out as soon as she woke this morning. However the other part, the irrational part of your brain, the part that has you acting like a geeky teenage boy who somehow got paired up with the miss America-like, homecoming queen, wants to join her in the shower and make sure she is completely late for work.
Sadly, logic wins.
The bathroom goes silent and the pipes rattle quietly as the shower is turned off, you make your way into her kitchen in your boxers and t-shirt and head straight for the coffee pot. Waiting for the steaming liquid to brew, you wash up the wine glasses that were used the night before and try and not think about the fact that your 'sort of' girlfriend, the woman with whom you've been kinda dating for the last four-ish months is currently standing in the middle of the bedroom naked.
Your back is against the sink, your mouth filled with coffee when she enters the room, her long robe dragging on the floor and her brunette hair, darker than usual hangs in a mess down her back, droplets of water staining the silky material covering her body as she throws you a smile.
"There better be one of those ready for me" She says mid-yawn and nods suggestively at the pale blue mug in your hands and you laugh, pointing towards the counter to your left.
"Of course"
"Hmm, thank you" She whispers as the warm ceramic heats her hands and the caffeine enters her veins, instantly perking her mood up.
"So, what are the plans for you today?" She asks, gulping down another mouthful of coffee.
"Check up with the doc at eleven," You tell her, drinking from your own mug and glancing at the clock that hangs on the wall above the TV "Then I'm gonna go see my mom" You roll your eyes and laugh "She's playing the 'you almost died' guilt card with me"
"She's right" She replies seriously for a second, her dark eyes misting over as she stares at your chest as if you wore a sign over the healing scar that said 'bullet entered here'
"Yeah but I'm not"
"That's not the point" She retaliates almost without taking a breath. "You could've"
"But I didn't" You place the mug by the sink and walk over to her, trapping her body against the counter, your arms on either side of her as the scent of her coconut body lotion and the dark roast coffee drown your senses "You made sure of that"
She glares as you smirk at her and kiss her lips; her free hand goes to your hip and grips the white cotton in her fist. Her tongue pushes into your mouth and you smirk, your hands slowly grip the tie holding her robe together and the sound that escapes her throat hits you straight in the groin.
"I'll be late"
"So…" You take the mug from her hand and hold her face in your hands, your lips pecking hers softly "Be late…"
.
review/
Lyrics: Monday Morning - Fleetwood Mac
Twitter: ahoycinderella