Solid
He has made her lazy.
Before him, she would leap out of bed in the morning with an unrivalled enthusiasm, wrench in hand, overalls hanging within arm's reach, her mind already sparking and crackling. She would wash as fast as possible, humming monotonously, scrape her hair back with her fingernails, holding the elastic tie between her teeth, devour some food, anything she could find, and be downstairs in the workshop before fifteen minutes had passed. She had always assumed that it was what she did, that was all, and what she would always do. She just couldn't wait to work, and would jump up and get ready as fast as she could.
Now, she wakes slowly, stretching languidly, dragging herself unhurriedly upwards out of sleep. She sighs, still barely semi-conscious, and rolls over, reaching out for his solidly present form, the warmth he radiates. She cushions her head on his shoulder and settles back to sleep.
She wakes twenty minutes later, pulled suddenly into a reluctant wakefulness. She doesn't need an alarm clock: her own body wakes her with a regularity superior to any piece of quartz. It, at least, knows she should be working. She grumbles into his shoulder at her unwanted consciousness, and settles herself determinedly into a comfortable doze.
She surfaces again after ten minutes, as he stirs beside her. He always sleeps for longer than she does. She moves slowly, raising her head and looking up at him from under heavy eyelids as she curls snugly into his side. He smiles his adorable sleep-filled smile and moves his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. "Good morning," he whispers.
She grins, and buries her head in his chest. Just five more minutes, she thinks.
Author's notes: Don't blame her. Can't say I'd want to get up if Al was lying next to me :P