She awoke in her own bed, wrapped in her own sheets, in a brand new t-shirt that was not her own. As memories of the night before flooded her already pulsing head, she realized that Jim was nowhere to be found.
Squinting into the shaded room that was still too bright for her Saturday morning hangover, she gathered the sights of her bedroom. Her work clothes from yesterday were folded neatly at the foot of her bed. On the bedside table nearest her sat a full glass of water with a Post-It labeled Drink Me! and a bottle of Pepto Bismol labeled Swallow Me! (that's what she said. Hee hee). On the other side of the bed, she saw his duffel, tucked against his side-his side, wow. His side of the bed was still appropriately befuddled, and she closed her eyes, rolling to the pillow he'd used and inhaling his scent for a few moments before trying her hand at actually getting out of bed.
It took several tries of sitting up, feeling too dizzy, and laying back down before she was able to sip at the glass of water. Just the smell of the Pepto made her gag. She'd save that for later. Eventually, her socked feet hit the carpet, and she took slow, tentative steps toward the faint noises coming from the kitchen. As she rounded the corner, she realized that not waking up with his arms around her wasn't the worst thing in the world.
Especially when it meant that he was standing shirtless in her kitchen, turning eggs over in a hot pan.
That answered the question of where did the shirt I'm wearing come from?
It was a little strange; usually this script was flipped. Wasn't she supposed to be the one scantily clad and making him breakfast? Still, it was fun to linger at the end of the hallway, watching him work silently. So this was how the opposite sex played. She could definitely get used to this game.
It was adorable, really, the way he shimmied around the kitchen, cracking eggs and managing the toaster simultaneously. If she listened closely enough, she could just make out the tuneless melody that he was humming. It was the giggle that gave her away.
But to her defense, he was quite literallyshaking his butt as he glided across her kitchen tiles.
Without so much as a shift in his chin so words could travel over his shoulder rather than into the steam of his cooking, he mouthed, "Oh, do I have an audience?" and continued sashaying while he seamlessly moved the pan of eggs to a quiet burner and twirled to where she stood watching.
WIthout warning, his hands were around her, one at her waist and one clasping her tiny palm, as he did his best, albeit less than perfect, waltz impression, twirling her the short distance from the hallway into the kitchen. Her smile gapped the distance from the Pacific to the Atlantic, eyes fighting whether to stay open and bask in the glow of his matching expression, or to close and cement this into forever. Eventually, she gave into her other senses to do the memory making for her. It was the feel of his bare skin underneath her cheek as he pulled her close, his pulse quickening beneath her smile; the smell of toast and eggs, of spice and Sam Adams and something else that was inherently Jim pulsing in her sinuses; the sound of his off key hums vibrating in her ears and against her cheek; the taste of chapped skin and Listerine and a hint of stolen orange juice when his lips moved slowly and chastely against hers.
"Good morning." His voice was rough, despite the seemingly thorough vocal warmup that she had heard.
"Good morning yourself." She finally peeled her eyes open, but just to catch her bearings as dizziness made itself more present. "As much as I love this little ditty you've got going here, if you don't stop spinning me, I think I'm going to throw up.
He paused, pulling her tightly against him as he muttered, "Such a lightweight" into her hair, leaving a kiss in place of his words as he walked her backwards to a chair at the kitchen table. She was left in a state of observation for a little while longer as he finished with the eggs, transferred them to a plate that he must have found in her cabinet before she'd stumbled upon the kitchen, and moved everything to the table. Her lips tugged upwards when she saw yellow fluff situated into a smiley face on the plate in front of her.
"Wow, pulling out all the stops this morning, are we?"
"You could say that."
She'd never thought that she could love his sideways grin more, but in the morning light, sitting across from her at the kitchen table after he had made her breakfast, the morning after a night of caretaking, that soft smile exterminated the goosebumps that her near bare skin had been riddled with in the chill morning air.
The air here hung so much differently than it did when she'd shared mornings and meals with Roy. With Roy, something was always wrong. The toast was burnt or the eggs were overcooked, or he Just wanted cereal today after she'd gone to all the trouble. With Jim it was just easy. Even in the silence, as he moved to the fridge for more orange juice, she found herself resting her cheek in her palm, watching as the muscles in his bare back stretched and pulled when he opened and closed the door.
"What?" he smiled, returning to the seat across from her.
She shrugged. "Nothing. Just staring."
"Staring?" he queried, taking a hearty slug from his juice glass.
"Yup. Just making sure this is all still real."
His lips spanned the rim of the glass before he could set it down, scoot his chair around to her side of the table, and catch her lips with his own.
Dizziness, now emanating from the buzz of his lips on hers, pulsed in her veins.
"Yup. Definitely real."
Later that afternoon, they mulled around the aisles of Best Buy hand in hand. She found his arms around her waist from behind and his head snuck into her shoulder as she balanced two different web cameras between her hands.
"Anything good?"
"I don't know," she replied. "I'm trying to decide if I want to see you in high def or not. It's a little pricier for the extra pixels. What do you think?"
"Well, to tell you the truth, I find a lesser quality to be more intriguing."
He buried his nose below her ear and kissed her throat lightly.
"Oh? Care to elaborate?" She hadn't so much as budged in his arms, mulling over the two options intently as he squeezed her more tightly in the middle of the aisle.
"I don't know. It leaves me wondering what's missing. I have to focus a little more, use my imagination…"
As his words wandered away, his lips picked up where they left off, finding the skin on her neck as it finally clicked in her head.
"James Halpert! You stop that! We are in public!"
She twisted against the shaking laughter in his chest, hitting him square with one of the boxes as she turned to face him.
His hands caught her at the elbows, an attempt to wipe the furrowed pout from her face in the seriousness of the words that were still laced in laughter.
"Let's do the high-def ones. They look like they'll last longer anyway. Plus, it'll be like you're actually in the room with me instead of so far away."
Her features softened almost immediately, pout unfolding into a smile as she cocked her head at him, as if to say Could you be any more perfect?
Their bubble was popped by the call of his name, Jimmy?! from an aisle over.
Pam saw its source before he did.
It was her.
That girl from the porch.
The last she'd actually seen of his old place with Mark before her world began to fall apart.
His touch had disappeared, hands flying to the back of his head, a nervous tick of his, when the woman approached them, throwing her arms around his awkward disposition.
"I didn't know you were going to be in town this weekend! God, mom and dad never tell me anything!"
Mom and dad.
So, she was his sister.
Before he could answer, she was turning towards Pam, a friendly hand outstretched.
"So, we haven't officially officially met. I'm Larisa. This bonehead's sister. You must be Pam" She cocked her head towards a reddening Jim as Pam took her hand and muttered a nervous Hi.
"Are you guys coming to mom and dad's for lunch tomorrow?"
"Uh, mom and dad kind of don't know I'm here this weekend, 'Riss."
His eyes shifted towards Pam once before hitting the blue carpet of the electronics store. Larisa's eyes widened, her smile sly as she realized what her brother was hinting at.
"Oh, I see. Well. Pete and Tom are coming in for the day. Everyone'll be here. You should totally stop by. I'm sure they'd love to see their precious baby boy, since he lives across the country now. And I'll bet they're dying to meet you, Pam."
"Um, we'll see," Jim mumbled, wishing to be anywhere but here. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"New Killers album, dude," she replied, flashing the plastic case."
"Aww, man, I forgot that was out!"
"Yeah, and I'd be willing to burn you a copy, too. You can pick it up at mom and dad's when you stop by tomorrow." Flashing a smile, she turned to head towards the register, waving the album over her head.
"It was nice to meet you, Pam! See you guys later!"
Jim let out a long, low breath, clapping a closed fist into an open palm a few times before making eye contact with Pam.
"Well that was…."
"Larisa," he chuckled. "That, Pam, was Larisa for you. Awkward and pushy at its finest!"
He put his arm around her, pulling her to his side and kissing the top of her head. They waited until Larisa was safely through the checkout line before making their purchases.
"We don't have to go tomorrow, you know," he started once they were back on the highway. "To my parent's, I mean. I wasn't planning on it. It was shit dumb luck that she happened to see us in the store. I mean, my parents don't even know I'm in town. I-"
"Jim!" she giggled. "Take a breath."
"Sorry. I just… I wanted this weekend to be just us, you know? And I don't want to put any pressure on you to like, meet my entire family out of the blue. We don't have to go."
She slid her hand into his palm and let him kiss the back of her hand as they turned back onto her road.
Later that night, after spending too much time primping in front of the mirror and going through outfit after outfit before settling on an off the shoulder little black dress that matched her big, loose curls, Pam found herself seated across the table from Jim at Capri; the shimmering lake out the window behind him held no candle to the smile he'd been wearing all night.
They were on a date.
A real date.
With no Roy's, no secrets, and no fear.
He did everything right, everything that a true gentleman should. He held doors, he chose the wine, he stood when she excused herself to the ladies room and again when she returned. He was charming and sweet, but most importantly, he was still her Jim.
When the couple four tables over began visually bickering, he scooted his chair next to hers, mimicking the voice of the woman as he made up reasons for their squabble. Without missing a beat, she took on the role of the man, and they carried on a conversation that had their entrees growing cold and her stomach twisting in laughter.
When the waiter approached them for dessert, their hands still clasped across the table, she answered before he could open his mouth.
"Oh, no thank you. I have dessert at home."
So casual, like they planned for this and did it every night. I have dessert at home. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting until he had tucked his card into the billfold and the waiter walked away to say something.
"Dessert at home, Beesly? Do I want to know-"
"Dessert can sometimes just mean dessert, you dirty minded man," she said, shaking her head with a smile, her eyes never leaving his.
Not quite ready to head back to Scranton yet, he tugged her hand towards the water. As they drifted aimlessly, hand in hand, their footpaths intertwining along the shore, she began to think that his path wasn't as arbitrary as she had once assumed. Twenty toes played at the edge of the cement that was lightly lapped in water from the lake that had once haunted his dreams and ignited her initial spark of fear.
The air hung heavy with late autumn humidity and past regrets. They stilled in silence that was uncomfortably loud, unspoken words doing their best to come true.
"I wanted to tell you that night."
She didn't ask what night he was speaking of. She didn't have to. Instead, she gave him the time he needed, deserved to fill, time that she'd stolen out of cowardice for what the unknown held. She wasn't cold tonight. Despite the chill that skimmed off the water, her body was overcome by intense warmth.
"I knew then. Or, I'd known for a long time. Obviously." His clasped hands rested at the wrist on the metal barrier, his fingers moving animatedly while nerves pulsed out of their tips. His head shook on those last syllables, internally scolding himself as he tripped on a confession that she was already privy to, that she wouldn't judge him for. There was no reason to be nervous any longer.
"I don't know what it was about that night that made me suddenly think it would be the right time to tell you. But I took too long. And then, everything with Roy…"
His head shook as eyes found the water, the tiny waves seeming to encourage him, Go on. She's all ears now.
"I guess I took it as a sign. If it was meant to be, you wouldn't have gone back inside, and he wouldn't have set a wedding date and..I don't know. So I didn't go after you. My logic didn't make much sense back then"
"I knew."
It was his turn to listen, to absorb. There was an unspoken agreement between them that seemed to whisper listen and learn and let go.
"I saw it. It was written in your eyes." The water below that transfixed her gaze spoke with the same sad intensity, calm yet wavering as it wrecked against the concrete. "I think that's what made me...you know...pretend I was cold?"
Shining eyes followed her tilted head as she sought his reaction, her tone apprehensively comical.
"You what? God, Beesly, I didn't peg you for a liar."
His own words shook with nervous laughter, his fingers drumming against the metal as he shook his head back and forth as if to chide Shame on you.
As laughter turned back to vapor and whispered out over the water, she continued in solemnity.
"I did. I lied. I pretended I didn't see you. Pretended that you couldn't possibly have feelings for me. Pretended that I was cold. Because, truth be told, that jacket was pretty warm."
His nod sealed his approval, his gratitude for her candor, as the information processed in his mind.
"I was scared. Too scared to even think about the prospect of falling in love with you, or that you could even imagine falling in love with someone like me."
"Pam, what...someone like you?"
"You brought Katy."
His head hung low, and he let his forehead touch the curvy coolness of metal before speaking.
"So, when that thought even crossed my mind, that the look in your eyes was something...more...I reminded myself of who you were there with. That there was, just, no way that you could feel something for me when you had her to go home to."
Words seemed so irrelevant now as his fingers shifted around her cheeks, up into her hair, and around her back as he pressed her to his chest.
"You are so much more than I could ever hope for, Pam. She doesn't even compare to you."
He pulled away, cradling her face in his palms again, the intensity of his stare burying itself inside her.
"God, Pam, you are...you are just everything."
When his lips crashed upon hers, it sealed the meaning of those words, made his truth evident. Her hands stole into his hair, pressing his kiss deeper, holding him close to her heart.
After minutes that seemed like days, he leaned his forehead on hers, his breath escaping through upturned lips as he brushed his thumbs over her bottom lip.
That lake would no longer hold negativity and fear over their heads. As they walked away, hand in hand, the water pulled in an opposite direction, carrying their worries with it.
Emotionally and physically drained once they'd returned from their forty-five minute ride, she changed back into nothing but underwear and his t-shirt that sufficiently covered her down to the knees. In fact, she realized, it covered more of her than the dress she'd just been wearing. He followed suit, donning his pajama pants and secretly relishing in the comfort of no longer wearing dress clothes.
"So, what were you thinking?" he queried when he met her in the kitchen.
"Well, I did deprive you of dessert back at the restaurant, so I was thinking we could start there."
"Oh? Dessert?" He folded his arms over his chest with an eyebrow cocked, a smirk tugging playfully at his lips.
"Get your head out of the gutter, James. Dessert."
She didn't typically call him James, but she'd done it twice today. Both times in reprimanding tones. He was starting to debate acting out more often.
She'd buried herself mysteriously in the freezer, and as those words left her lips, a pint of ice cream appeared in each hand, one rocky road and one chocolate chip cookie dough.
"Just wanted to make my contribution to the James Halpert Hunger Foundation. I can write this off on my taxes, yes?"
He joined her in the tiny kitchen, his butt resting atop the kitchen table as she offered him a carton and a spoon. They sat side by side, her feet kicking freely in the open air as they hung off the table, while his feet remained flat on the floor. With a dollop of rocky road on her spoon, she tilted the cool metal towards him, misjudging her angle and hitting the tip of his nose with fudge.
"Hey! Watch it!" he laughed, trying to feign annoyance as he brought his unoccupied hand to wipe at his face. Her own hand was quickly there to stop him as she pushed up on the table to kiss the cold matter from his skin. Cocking his eyebrow, he picked up his own spoon, cookie dough chunks moistened to her cheek before she could reload her own utensil.
"Oh, we're going to play this game, huh?" she retorted, her eyebrows reaching her hairline as she failed to eliminate the giggles from her words.
His lips were on her skin, his tongue darting out to steal the lump of ice cream before he whispered, "We're absolutely about to play this game," punctuating his words with a chaste kiss before putting slow, heated distance between them. His eyes seemed to challenge Your turn as he folded his arms across his chest.
She scooped another hunk of rocky road from her own container and brought it slowly to his mouth, teasing the cold metal at his bottom lip before letting the spoon dip to the side, the cool dairy slipping to the dip in his collar before he could capture the spoon in his mouth. Under hooded eyes, she peered up to find his hazy and waiting, wanting, as her lips closed over the delicate hollow. When her tongue curled between ice cream and skin, a sigh broke past lips that were still chilled from melting ice cream.
Her cocked eyebrow, despite the shakiness of her hands and thighs, beckoned, Show me what you've got written into its creases.
Wasting no time, his spoon was loaded and at her lips quickly, but instead of dropping his ice cream right away, he teased the edge of the spoon back and forth against her lips, taunting her, begging her to try to go for it. She wouldn't budge, instead folding her lips inside, letting her eyes lock with his as the spoon wandered back and forth ever so delicately across her mouth.
Wordlessly, she caught his wrist in her fingers for balance while she scooted off the table and in between his legs. Taking the spoon from his grasp, she held his gaze as she drew the spoon seductively between her lips, watching his eyes grow in size as her tongue fluttered around the metal, licking it clean. Raising both eyebrows to the sky, his expression seemed to say What? and Why? and Are you trying to kill me?
When she breathed, "Couldn't wait. I wanted a taste," fire ripped through his lungs in the form of an unabashed moan, and he captured her lips as spoons clattered to the floor, ice cream melting under fluorescence while he scooped her under her ass and stole away to the bedroom.
It was everything he had ever dreamed and yet nothing like he ever could have imagined..
Here she was.
Pam.
His Pam.
Lying beneath him in nothing but his t-shirt. Her curls were spread like a fan about the bedspread. Her lips spoke slyly, personifying the secret that they shared as he hovered above on his knees. Her eyes showed the hunger, the craving that her gut and her heart and her soul longed for, spoken in the tentative twitches of her fingers on his waist and at his shirt hem.
Pausing on his forearms, noses touched as their periphery became nothing but eyes, nothing but each other, a silent realization that this was nothing but them, before desperation became lips hot on each other and echoing moans and hands roaming impatiently, trying to be everywhere all at once.
Hers were in his hair, spanning the taugt muscles in his back, running along his ass and squeezing him tightly to her. His tangled in her curls, caressed her cheek, tickled down her sides before pulling the hem of her shirt upward. As fingers brushed against satiny lace at her waistband, he wondered how many different ensembles like this she owned, recalling what he had felt the night before. But his thoughts only lingered briefly before she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, moaning, thrusting her hips into his touch. His mind scattered into obscurity when his fingers gained a brief impression of her arousal, so wet and yet he'd barely touched her.
He groaned, lips finding her neck as he trailed sloppy kisses along the column of her throat while his fingers sought to free her breasts. While he fumbled underneath her, tiny fingers were impatiently pushing his t-shirt up and his waistband down, and he pushed back onto his forearms to give her a hand, throwing his shirt over his head and toeing his pajama pants to the edge of the bed, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He almost broke skin in her neck when she was suddenly grasping him, his dick hot and heavy in her hand. Those fingers, so delicate and dainty, were going to be his undoing.
He grunted, thrusting into her touch once, twice, before stilling her wrist with his own hand.
"Not that that doesn't feel so, so good, but I'm not going to last very long if you keep on doing that."
His words were warm in her ear, and his tongue chased them, making sure the message was received loud and clear as he outlined her ear with its tip. Her own mewels and the loosened grip seemed to show that she understood.
Suddenly it was his hands on her breasts, her legs wrapping around his waist, her lips buried in his shoulder as he trailed wet kisses along the tops of the swells while his thumbs danced across her nipples. It wasn't until he drew her into his mouth, his tongue flicking and his lips sucking and the cool air hitting her taut skin as he switched his attention between each breast that she began grinding against him slowly, the ache between her thighs growing with each touch.
It was his name at her lips, that soft Jim that pulled his attention away from pleasing her and touching her to look up, to see the way that her head was turned up and away, how her eyes were closed in pleasure, how her skin was flushed and prickled with sweat, how her fingers were simultaneously failing to hold on and clinging to his forearms like her life depended on it.
He knew in that moment that he'd never see a more beautiful sight in his lifetime.
Reaching between their bodies, he found her soaking in arousal, slick and ready for him. Her cries were muffled by his lips, soft and reassuring as he pushed her panties to the side and ran his first two fingers up and down her slit, taking just a moment to tease her and lube himself before pushing inside her folds. Her muscles were already beginning to pulse as he slid his fingers in and out, becoming acquainted with the feel of her. She dropped her head back to the pillows, but then pushed her forehead to his shoulder, leaving half hearted kisses on his collarbone.
It wasn't until he crooked his fingers inside her and found her clit with his thumb all in one swift motion that her already budding arousal flooded over, pulsing hungrily around his fingers as she cried out into the night.
It was the Oh, fuck! that had him chuckling, doing his best to milk the most of her arousal with his fingers before he pulled out and found her cheek with his lips, her head having hit the pillows again as she attempted to steady her heart rate.
"A little mouthy there, Beesly?" he mumbled at the corner of her lips, his fingers hovering just outside of her now.
She could do nothing more but whimper, indolently thrusting at his hand before turning her head to find his eyes. They were pleading, but also whispering I love you and I want whatever you want and I would wait for you forever. But her heels were digging into him again, and her fingers were cradling his chin, and her tongue was hot and insistent in his mouth.
It was her hands that guided him to her already slick and waiting center as she impatiently shoved his boxers down, still coming down from a high she thought couldn't be topped. Though throbbing and wanting, he pulled his cock away slightly, paused just outside her entrance as he sought her eyes, his large hands cradling her face wholly. She nodded slightly, that whimper and the way she closed her eyes almost had him coming before he even began.
He dragged his cock along her slit once, the evidence of her last orgasm wet around him as he nudged her clit with his head. Twice more, and she was actually grunting, "Fuck, Jim, please," and he was pushing his way slowly inside of her, doing his best to savor the feeling of her inch by inch.
Unsure of what depth would please her the most or what she was apt to handle, he continued to slide inside, judging by the grip that she had on his shoulders that he was more than okay to continue. When he was buried within her to the hilt, he ground his base against her clit, the feel of her muscles pulsing letting him know that she could and would come again.
Knowing that she was close, he settled on short, shallow strokes, doing his best to meet her thrusts and give her clit attention as he drew himself in and out. The way she writhed beneath him, clung to his back, raked her fingers across his skin had him feeling like a brand new man as he felt his own arousal begin to rip through him.
He reached his fingers between them, finding her swollen bud and circling around it quickly, matching his thrusts as he came undone, her name at his lips as his fingers continued to work until he felt her pulse around his own thrumming cock.
He collapsed on top of her, doing his best not to crush her, but wanting all the same to touch every part of her with every part of him. His forearms caged her body, his fingers limp on her cheeks, his own cheek resting in her neck, their legs still tangled as he began to soften inside of her. When he felt her stir, a twitch in her legs, he lifted his forehead enough to see her pretty eyes, still hazy, staring back at him.
"Hi," he whispered, not even trying to stop his lips from splitting his cheeks.
"Hi," she echoed. Her smile was different, almost drunk in the way her lips curled in no way, shape, or form. Her fingers were at his ears, lazily outlining their shape as she drank him in.
This was Jim, hovering over her. Jim pulling himself slowly out of her. Jim leaving her completely exhausted yet craving his lips all over her body straight away.
He shifted onto his side, doing his best to keep as much contact with her body as possible. He pulled her to his chest, keeping his eyes trained on hers, brushing his lips to her forehead as he tried to calm the beat in his heart that solely stemmed from the fact that That actually just happened!
Neither could point out for sure who fell asleep first, but hours later, she awoke with her legs tangled and his body superbly wrapped around her, one arm coming around her torso all the way and ending with his hand on her stomach, while the other wrapped around her shoulder and tangled in her hair. She could feel him semi-hard against her thigh, and began to tickle her fingers against his chest and back where they lay. When he startled from his slumber, he squeezed her tighter first, and then found her lips dreamily, keeping his eyes closed.
While she enjoyed the feel of their lips moving drunkenly together, the way his tongue was stealing into her mouth and drinking her in lazily, she pulled away and scooted to put breathing room between them.
"I'm going to go grab a glass of water. Care to join me?"
She donned his t-shirt while he pulled his boxers back on, squinting when she turned the kitchen light on. They were both suddenly more awake, remembering the mess of ice cream that was now melty puddles brimming over soggy cardboard cartons. She giggled, both of her hands coming in front of her mouth like a little girl that had a secret, and he couldn't get enough of it.
"Wow, what a waste of perfectly good ice cream," he chuckled, mimicking her actions as she topped her own carton and peeled the sticky spoon from the table.
"I don't think I'd necessarily call it a waste." Her tone was singsonged, her bed head curls bouncing as she tilted her head in his direction.
"No?"
"No. In fact, I'd say it was put to perfectly good use."
She wet a washcloth and wiped down the table, tossing the spoons in the sink as she offered him both ice cream cartons to put in the freezer and ignored his eyes.
Even with her back to him in her tiny kitchen, his heat was overbearing behind her, his cock hard against her back, his words gravelly in her ear as he muttered, "Is that so?"
She wound her hands above her head, into his hair as he pulled her hips against him, a growl filling his throat when she ground against him.
For the second time that night, he carried her to bed.
Although her bedroom was put together enough to actually have curtains, the morning light still peeked in through her window, peeling his eyelids open despite desperate attempts to stay asleep. But when hazy greens landed upon the woman wrapped so tightly against him, it was well worth the early wake up call.
Her skin was golden, the sheen reflecting from both the light and the love she'd been bathed in that morning. Her eyelids fluttered, and he knew that whatever she was dreaming, it was full of joy. Her lips were curled upwards against his side, her breath puffing softly at his bare chest.
His own stirring must have startled her, because all too soon, his private moment was suddenly evaporating, and he was caught red handed when her eyes began to blink open. Before she even had the chance to cross over into full consciousness, his lips were soft and still at her forehead.
"Good morning."
"Mmm, morning."
Their voices were still thick with sleep, and he realized that these were the moments he would come to treasure the most.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked, his fingers trickling down her bare back, pausing at the dip in her hips.
"Wonderfully. Although I kept getting interrupted." Her words were slurred, as if she'd woken up still drunk. But, then, in a way, hadn't she?
"Oh. I'm sorry. How rude of me. I'm a terrible house guest," he mumbled into her hair as he began to kiss to crown of her head.
"Right? Never again. Take the toothbrush with you."
She giggled against his chest, the way she was pulling into his body so contradictory to her playful words.
It was in that moment, when she propped her chin against his chest, her smile a mile wide and her teeth front and center, that it all rushed back, from a thousand of his fantasies.
The texture of the air around them changed, became somehow lighter than just her presence alone had already made it. He reached his hand up cup her cheek, her smile stretching into his palm as he gently stroked her soft skin with his thumb. The words were already written on his lips, in the way they tugged to the side so wholly and genuinely. By the look in her eyes, in the way they grew and became misty, in the way her face softened and she reached for his forearm, she already knew what he was going to say. But still, he painted the words onto the canvas of their story.
"God, I am so in love with you."
