A/n: I AM NOT DEAD! Wow, shocker right?! Guys, I am all out of Jibbs muse. The plot bunnies have gone into hibernation. I have no fluffy thoughts about Jibbs anymore :( I don't know guys I just haven't read anything very fluffy in the last few months. I need a really fluffy oneshot to read. I thought if I wrote this then maybe my muse would be back... nope.
Well I hope you guys like it though. Its just a drabble.
He cherished those moments when he would wake up in the morning. Her red hair would be fanned out against his chest or the pillow. Her mouth slightly open with her hand resting beside her head, her fingers slightly curled. Her silky sheets would be pooled around her waist or sometimes pulled up past her shoulders. Sometimes she would be on the other side of the bed, spread out with her arms above her head. Or other times she would curl up into a little ball and cuddle into his side.
She liked to sleep on her stomach when she was in Paris he noticed, and it was a habit she never grew out of. She also always had a cup of her favorite tea before she would go to bed, and she prefered silky sheets. She had once told him that she liked the coldness of them when she slipped into bed. She would talk in her sleep as well, and maybe her tea was the reason. He would say caffeine, but she would be strange without it. She never did it in Paris.
She slept differently when the weather would change to. Nights when it would snow or rain she would basically be sleeping on top of him. She would pull the blankets up to her chin and clutch at his shirt, keeping herself warm with his body heat. Other times when it was a hot summer night the blankets would only be covering her legs. She would sleep with her back to him, and would on let him throw his arm over her waist. When it was hot she didn't like to cuddle. This is why he prefered winter, she was more clingy during the winter when they slept.
He had also noticed when she got hot, she would sleep with one foot out. It was always her left foot, and if she did stick it out the blankets would never go past her knee. He always found it odd, but strangely adorable at the same time. He had managed to pick up on all of her habits and little quirks about her after years with her. He noticed how some things changed since the years they were separated after Paris. Things like when she was a probie she always slept on the left side, but she now prefers the right.
He could also recall a few time he would have to hold her as she thrashed in her sleep. She would have nightmares, nightmares about Svetlana at the diner or missions from when she was a probie. He would hold her arms down and pin her to the bed, whispering for her to calm down. Those moment he hated, he hated to see her scared and in pain. But it happened, and neither of them could escape them.
But the best moments in the morning were when she would open her eyes. Those green eyes that looked so innocent and relaxed. Sometimes a beam of sunlight would leak through the curtains and shine out of her face, like a scene from a movie. The air would be still and the room quiet, just as their eyes met. It was that loving moment they could have before their day as director and agent started.
"Good morning beautiful." He would say, and she would smile.
"Morning."