Quite Content
A/N: Don't ask. I know, it's not SC fic season, but I had to get this out of my system. The OC in this oneshot drabble may or may not get a full story – too early to tell. But here it is – a load of sugary fluff. Enjoy?
OoOoOoOoOoO
I slowly awaken, and realize it's much too early to do so. The mantel clock, whose brass face looks silver in the moonlight, says that the time is 2:45 in the morning. Well, I have a little plenty of time to sleep – yes, just sleep.
It's Christmas Eve, after all. No work, no pressure, no deadlines or schedules or quotas. Just meand my husband and our first Christmas vacation ahead of us.
As I roll back down into my pillow, I breathe in deeply. Our room smells of ginger, cinnamon, and orange, my favorite scents. I love our room, with its cherry wood and burnished brass and the small fir tree in the corner, which I have so weighted down with antique ornaments and multicolored lights, it's a miracle the thing hasn't fallen down yet.
I wonder what tomorrow will hold. It will be the first time I have ever seen him without anything to do but relax and simply be. I tally up the ways I'd like to spend my time – reading, cooking, playing piano, watching foreign movies (I am something of a romantic.) How does he spend his spare time?
Beside me, he is moving, turning over to lie on his stomach. "Charlotte, what time is it?" he murmurs. His eyes aren't even open and I smile as I wonder if he isn't talking in his sleep. Even in his sleep, is he really so time-impatient?
"It's near three in the morning."
"Mmmph." His face turns toward me, one eye opens. "Has Santa called? Is he back yet?"
I groan inwardly – will it ever end? "He will get back when he gets back, Bernard. You've worked admirably hard today, and now I want you to sleep. You deserve it. Okay?"
"'Kay."
I smile again and begin to stare at the ceiling. It is cherry wood too, and it has oak and holly leaves carved into it. The longer I stare at it, the further I can feel myself falling into sleep. I sigh, arch my back, and stretch out my limbs. This is my favorite part of going to sleep – the surreal, comfortable halfway-point when you are awake, more or less, but your body feels so drowsy that you might as well be asleep.
Again the velvet blankets are rustling beside me. Thinking Bernard is trying to get out of bed, I gear up for a lecture – but it looks like I won't be lecturing. He drapes one arm across my stomach as he nestles close to me, resting his head on my shoulder and against my neck. I reach and awkwardly stroke his dark, curly hair. He burrows his rather prominent nose into my neck, which seems a rather childlike action, and I can't help smiling again.
"Good night, then, Sleeping Beauty," I whisper.
"Mmmph," Bernard says, eloquent as ever. He breathes a quiet sigh of contentment, spreading warmth through every inch of me. A few minutes pass, and his breathing becomes slow and even, signaling that he is asleep.
So he can relax, after all. I snuggle into him, still smiling and quite content. His gentle breathing and steady heartbeat lull me to sleep, and my last thought rings in the back of my mind like a faraway silver bell:
Tomorrow will be lovely.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Sigh...The End. Good night, me hearties!