His eyes are intent, analyzing mine tenderly.
I'm curled up at the end of our bed, his body stretched out toward me. Two soft, clothed feet stand in front of my eyes, sweetly showcasing a few dancing toes. I angle my head to the side, picking at the material and smiling to myself.
"It's odd," he says clasping his hands together behind his head, "that my feet amuse you."
"Why do you think that is?" I say, tossing my playful spirit to him. My fingers meet the sole of his foot, massaging it lightly.
"Because they're that damn cute."
I shrug.
"Yeah, yeah," he teases, fetching one of the throw pillows next to him and throwing it toward me.
I put my arms up in blocking protest, catching the pillow as he smiles at me. I return my own goofy grin and rest my head on the pillow. Gazing up at the ceiling, I blink twice for no reason at all.
I turn to the side, making moves subtle, and take his feet. Propping them on top of my stomach, I continue my fancy with them. Rubbing the inside lovingly with one of my arms over his legs.
"Oh," he says suddenly, eyes sealed peacefully. "Weaver said we can take next Tuesday off."
"Oh, good," I reply, still focused on the job in front of me. I sigh, turn on my side. "I'm so happy for you."
He laughs and pulls his arms apart to invite me. I grin and crawl into his hug, warm and loving. Like no other; that's the way he is. He cuddles into me, and I gladly counter his actions, nuzzling my nose deep into his shirt.
With a dozen kisses to my forehead, I emit a dozen giggles.
His fingers comb through my morning heap of hair, tendrils coming between each of his digits. I can feel his face breathe into my hair again and again. I love it.
"How do you feel?"
He shrugs into me. "I don't know."
"You've wanted this attending position for how long," I say in a quiet voice. My eyes fall on his. "You've been worthy of it for the longest time. She offers it to you now and you don't know how you feel?" I laugh.
His shoulders shift again and he holds me tighter. I sense what he's feeling now, and my face becomes softer. I hold me fingers against his chest, palms lingering and let my face escape between them. His own head is lost in my neck, murmuring kisses here and there.
He pulls away, and searches for me. I smile and give him a sweet kiss, filled with all the heart I have for him. He turns to the side to survey the figure beside him, the one I can't see.
I rest my chin comfortably on his chest to see her.
"See that smile?" he asks, hands lost in my hair.
I slide into him. "Yeah."
"She has our sarcasm."
We both chuckle at his comment, then I twist my head to further my view. "It's quite a trait."
"Hereditary, I guess."
"Like a whole sarcastic gene?"
He nods, and sighs with his own mix of laughter. "Scathing."
"Not *scathing.*" I lazily slap his chest and allow my hand to fall again. "Witty. Cutting."
"You're flattering yourself on purpose."
My grin spreads a little more, my chin and cheeks feeling the familiar sensation. He rubs his hands over the infant's stomach, her fists fighting to grab his attention.
I sneeze. Again. "Where's the box of Kleenex?"
He reaches over my head to the dresser and brings it to me. I nod a thank you his way and take a few samples. Gratefully, I blow my nose.
"Attractive, huh?" I joke.
"Oh, yeah," he says as he takes his own. His voice has the common stuffy- nose sound to it, as I'm sure mine does. "Adorable."
We both toss the tissues for a wastebasket, and miss. We both turn our heads away and fix them on our daughter once more.
"How did she get out of this?"
I shrug. "Aren't adults supposed to be more immune to this kind of stuff?"
He laughs.
The baby giggles and we're quiet again. Motionless in every sense, only the gentle rising of our bodies with every breath breaking the bare serenity of the room.
"Kleenex, please?"
"Yep," I offer, reaching for our savior this morning. "Here."
We both take our share again.
He pulls me closer to him, one steady arm wrapped around my body. Limp with all the weariness of the daylight, and relaxed with every sense of him, I smile.
"Happy anniversary," I laugh.
"Best yet."
--
Don't know why, but sadly all of my fics have been children of insomnia lately. This one I wrote it on the wall to preserve the idea when the computer wasn't working.
Yet Viki still convinces me that I'm *not* weird. ;)
manda
I'm curled up at the end of our bed, his body stretched out toward me. Two soft, clothed feet stand in front of my eyes, sweetly showcasing a few dancing toes. I angle my head to the side, picking at the material and smiling to myself.
"It's odd," he says clasping his hands together behind his head, "that my feet amuse you."
"Why do you think that is?" I say, tossing my playful spirit to him. My fingers meet the sole of his foot, massaging it lightly.
"Because they're that damn cute."
I shrug.
"Yeah, yeah," he teases, fetching one of the throw pillows next to him and throwing it toward me.
I put my arms up in blocking protest, catching the pillow as he smiles at me. I return my own goofy grin and rest my head on the pillow. Gazing up at the ceiling, I blink twice for no reason at all.
I turn to the side, making moves subtle, and take his feet. Propping them on top of my stomach, I continue my fancy with them. Rubbing the inside lovingly with one of my arms over his legs.
"Oh," he says suddenly, eyes sealed peacefully. "Weaver said we can take next Tuesday off."
"Oh, good," I reply, still focused on the job in front of me. I sigh, turn on my side. "I'm so happy for you."
He laughs and pulls his arms apart to invite me. I grin and crawl into his hug, warm and loving. Like no other; that's the way he is. He cuddles into me, and I gladly counter his actions, nuzzling my nose deep into his shirt.
With a dozen kisses to my forehead, I emit a dozen giggles.
His fingers comb through my morning heap of hair, tendrils coming between each of his digits. I can feel his face breathe into my hair again and again. I love it.
"How do you feel?"
He shrugs into me. "I don't know."
"You've wanted this attending position for how long," I say in a quiet voice. My eyes fall on his. "You've been worthy of it for the longest time. She offers it to you now and you don't know how you feel?" I laugh.
His shoulders shift again and he holds me tighter. I sense what he's feeling now, and my face becomes softer. I hold me fingers against his chest, palms lingering and let my face escape between them. His own head is lost in my neck, murmuring kisses here and there.
He pulls away, and searches for me. I smile and give him a sweet kiss, filled with all the heart I have for him. He turns to the side to survey the figure beside him, the one I can't see.
I rest my chin comfortably on his chest to see her.
"See that smile?" he asks, hands lost in my hair.
I slide into him. "Yeah."
"She has our sarcasm."
We both chuckle at his comment, then I twist my head to further my view. "It's quite a trait."
"Hereditary, I guess."
"Like a whole sarcastic gene?"
He nods, and sighs with his own mix of laughter. "Scathing."
"Not *scathing.*" I lazily slap his chest and allow my hand to fall again. "Witty. Cutting."
"You're flattering yourself on purpose."
My grin spreads a little more, my chin and cheeks feeling the familiar sensation. He rubs his hands over the infant's stomach, her fists fighting to grab his attention.
I sneeze. Again. "Where's the box of Kleenex?"
He reaches over my head to the dresser and brings it to me. I nod a thank you his way and take a few samples. Gratefully, I blow my nose.
"Attractive, huh?" I joke.
"Oh, yeah," he says as he takes his own. His voice has the common stuffy- nose sound to it, as I'm sure mine does. "Adorable."
We both toss the tissues for a wastebasket, and miss. We both turn our heads away and fix them on our daughter once more.
"How did she get out of this?"
I shrug. "Aren't adults supposed to be more immune to this kind of stuff?"
He laughs.
The baby giggles and we're quiet again. Motionless in every sense, only the gentle rising of our bodies with every breath breaking the bare serenity of the room.
"Kleenex, please?"
"Yep," I offer, reaching for our savior this morning. "Here."
We both take our share again.
He pulls me closer to him, one steady arm wrapped around my body. Limp with all the weariness of the daylight, and relaxed with every sense of him, I smile.
"Happy anniversary," I laugh.
"Best yet."
--
Don't know why, but sadly all of my fics have been children of insomnia lately. This one I wrote it on the wall to preserve the idea when the computer wasn't working.
Yet Viki still convinces me that I'm *not* weird. ;)
manda