Title: Mornings.
Summary: Because, you know, married life takes a little adjustment. Blatant James/Lily fluff.
Rating: PG-13. Nothing too awfully explicit, but definite innuendos.
A/N: Just to get back into it…it's a little more risqué than usual, but it had to be written. Read and review, please.
Married life has its pros and its cons. On one hand, he can kiss her whenever he wants, and the first and last thing he sees each day is her smile, her eyes, her hair. He can definitely live with that. On the other hand, she takes showers in the morning in their shared bathrooms and distracts him from brushing his teeth. It's really rather difficult to complete mundane tasks when the love of your life is standing two feet away.
Wet.
And naked.
He can't decide which is better, but they're both significant positives in his mind.
She catches him ogling her for the third time that morning, toothbrush forgotten in hand, and cries again: "Brush your teeth, James! You're creeping me out!"
He rolls his eyes and turns back to the sink, scrubbing vigorously and secretly watching her out of his peripheral vision. When the shower water turns off, he sees her stick a hand out, the teasingly semi-transparent curtains still drawn.
"Towel," she demands.
He realizes that he has an unfortunate amount of white foamy spit dripping from his mouth, so he rinses and spits before replying. "What about it?"
"Give it to me," she says, like he's the stupidest person to roam the earth. "Give me my towel."
Rinse, spit.
"Are you being serious?" He asks incredulously, turning to her in amazement.
"Yes," she insists, sticking her head out now, long hair dripping wet. "Now give me my towel. And turn around while you're at it."
"Why can you come out here to dry off?"
"Because," she replies haughtily. "It's awkward. You'll see me naked."
He snorts, rinses and spits again. "And I haven't done that before? You honestly didn't seem to mind last night."
She blushes so strongly that he can see the flush through those damn curtains. It's ridiculously endearing.
"It was different then," she mumbles. "We were both naked. Now it's just me, and you're going to stare and be a creep, and it's awkward. Just…please, James? Either give me my towel or turn around or both."
He rolls his eyes again, but obeys, both handing her the cloth and turning around. He stands there for a few moments, exasperated, until she says primly: "I'm dressed now."
He turns to her, looks
her up and down.
"Finally," he growls, before placing his
hands on her waist, pushing her into the bathroom wall, and kissing
her senseless. By the time they're done, she needs to put her
clothes back on again.