A/N: This was my entry for K18 Week 2017 over on Tumblr. The prompt topic was "Morning Ritual" and I really enjoyed coming up with this one. There were a few other prompts I wanted to do, but didn't have time during the week, but I think I'll still do them, because they were really cool prompts. But in the meantime, I hope you like this one.
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Easy Like Sunday Morning
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He was trying his best not to make a sound.
18 buried her face into her pillow to hide her fond smile, lest she give herself away. She lay still as Krillin slowly rose, stretched his arms to the ceiling and stood up. He slid his feet into his slippers, carefully remade his side of the bed and slipped out of the bedroom, unnoticed.
Or so he thought.
This had become somewhat of a tradition. A morning ritual if you will. 18 rolled onto her side, watching the door her husband had just left through, and begun counting down the minutes until he would return. It would be exactly thirty. Underneath the covers, her hand reached out towards the warm patch of bed Krillin had just vacated. It was already growing cold.
He would sneak out of bed at 7.30 on the dot, every Sunday morning. He didn't have an alarm to wake him, he just seemed to know. Downstairs, he would commandeer the kitchen, shooing away Roshi and Oolong who were already awake, and get to work. Every Sunday morning it was the same, a small stack of pancakes with a pot of syrup on the side, some fresh fruit, eggs – sometimes poaches, sometimes scrambled, bacon, toast, a glass of freshly squeezed orange and pineapple juice and a pot of tea. He would reappear in their bedroom at precisely 8.00am, a tray laden with his mornings work balanced in his hands. He was careful to never spill a single drop.
The bed was warm, and 18 snuggled in deeper, pulling the blanket all the way up to her chin and tucking her legs up beneath her. Sleeping in wasn't so bad, really. She wondered why she was always so reluctant to let herself give in to such a small creature comfort. Every other day of the week, she was up shortly after dawn. Her eyelids begun to feel heavy.
Outside the door, the old staircase creaked, and a moment later, Krillin gently nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and let himself in. How long had 18 closed her eyes for? She could swear it was only a minute or two.
"Good morning my love," he said quietly. 18 noticed the small wrinkles that were beginning to show around his eye whenever he smiled. They were cute, she noted, as she sat up to receive the tray Krillin was about to hand her. She knew this routine well.
"Good morning to you too." 18 accepted the tray and watched her husband closely as he moved about the room, pulling open the curtains and opening the window. A warm breeze carried in the salty scent of the ocean and 18 inhaled deeply. It smelled like home.
Krillin slid back into bed beside his wife and swooped in for a kiss. His mouth caressed 18's with equal parts passion and tenderness. It was a long kiss, lingering and sweet, and 18 felt a pang of sadness strike her when Krillin eventually pulled away. She loved the way he kissed her. It made her feel alive in a way that nothing or no one else ever could.
"Where should we begin?" Krillin asked, and 18 wanted to suggest that they throw this whole feast out the window and pick up where they had just left off. But instead, she picked up a pancake, folded it in half and dunked it in syrup before biting into it.
"Good choice." Krillin smiled and followed his wife's lead.
They ate in silence for the most part, the gentle whooshing of the ocean rolling in and out against the sand was the only soundtrack they needed. 18 sipped on her tea and nibbled on a few slices of fruit, and Krillin polished off the rest of the feast. Whose breakfast was this meant to be, anyway?
"So," Krillin licked the last remnants of sticky syrup from his fingers and removed the empty tray from between them. "How was it?"
"Wouldn't know," 18 shot back playfully, and shrugged her shoulders. "You ate most of it."
"It's not my fault you're a slow eater."
"Life's not a race, Krillin, some of us enjoy taking our time. Isn't that what Sunday mornings are for?
"You're not wrong." 18 didn't stop Krillin from wrapping his arms around her and sliding them both back down the bed. He pulled the blankets back over them and kissed the top of 18's head and she snuggled herself in against Krillin's chest. "This is exactly what Sunday's are for."
18 sighed and closed her eyes. She could feel Krillin's heart beating, it was slow and rhythmic, hypnotic almost. If the roles had been reversed and it had of been Krillin listening to her own heart, he would have been able to hear it pounding, like a racehorse about to be let out of the gates. She tried her best, using the slow breathing and meditation techniques Krillin had taught her, to steady herself, but it was no use. Her body was not programmed to be this close to another human being unless it was for a fight.
"I love you."
Krillin's sweet voice and the feeling of him gently squeezing her, redirected 18's train of thought off the unpleasant path she had been about to venture down and back to the present.
"I love you too," she replied. It wasn't something that she said very often, words weren't exactly her strong suit, and certainly never when anybody else might be able to hear. But something about this this lazy Sunday morning, cocooned in her husband's strong embrace was making her feel all emotional.
To say that Krillin was a good husband would be like saying Mount Everest was just a hill. 'Good' didn't even come close to encapsulating everything about him that made him so uniquely him. He was kind and funny, smart and loyal, handsome and brave, and above all else, he loved 18 with a ferocity so intense that she could almost feel it radiate of off him. Everything he did, he did with the sole purpose of making 18 happy.
Like breakfast.
When exactly the tradition had started, 18 couldn't remember. But she knew it was long before they were married, or even before they were officially dating. When she had first come to live on the island, in the spare room, of course, Krillin had begun to leave trays of food outside her door in the morning. She never really ate much of it – that part hadn't changed, but she had always appreciated the effort nonetheless.
As their relationship had evolved, so too had the breakfast routine. From leaving it outside the door, to Krillin bringing it into 18's room, to him sitting at her desk and chatting while they shared it together, to sharing it in his room, to now, sharing it together in their bed, as husband and wife. Sunday morning breakfast had been a constant of their relationship right from the beginning.
A sudden dull thump in 18's abdomen reminded her that their relationship was soon going to be changing again. She lifted her head to catch Krillin's eyes, which were beaming with delight. "Did you feel that?" she asked
"I did!" Krillin pressed his warm palms against 18's ever so slightly bulging stomach, hoping for some more movement. "She's going to be a cheeky one, our girl."
A grimace washed over 18's face. "It might be a boy you know," she said as another powerful kick struck her from the inside. It was a strange sensation, one which even now, almost seven months into her pregnancy, still managed to catch her off guard. "He sure feels strong like his daddy."
"It's not." Krillin shook his head, he wasn't budging on this. "It's a girl." There had never been any doubt in his mind that he was going to have a daughter. "It's a girl, I'm telling you," he repeated, and laughed when 18 raised a teasing eyebrow in his direction. "It's a girl and she's going to have your blonde hair and my dark eyes. I'm one hundred percent certain."
"Whatever you say," 18 conceded smugly, and returned her head to Krillin's chest.
What would their lives look like when they were no longer just a couple, but a family, 18 wondered, as she began to drift back towards unconsciousness. When their secret gang of two became a party of three. She wouldn't have to wait very long to find out, but for now, 18 was content to bask in the warm morning sun, curled up against her husband in their big bed. Whatever they had planned for beyond this perfect moment would just have to wait.
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A/N: This was my entry for K18 Week 2017 over on Tumblr. The prompt topic was "Morning Ritual" and I really enjoyed coming up with this one. There were a few other prompts I wanted to do, but didn't have time during the week, but I think I'll still do them, because they were really cool prompts. But in the meantime, I hope you like this one
