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Story Notes:
Inspired by the Chair Model conversation.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Nothings ever actually perfect. Especially our favorite couple. I just had to get this out. Just a thought on a nice Saturday in.
It’s four in the morning, and she can’t sleep, staring at the ceiling and roasting under the blankets, she kicks them off trying to feel some of the cool air from the fan above. Closing her eyes she tries to fall back to sleep but she just can’t seem to cool down. Giving up, she puts on her glasses and slips out of bed quietly, so as not to wake him. She tip toes toward the door cursing under her breath as she trips on a rather large shoe they should be under the bed.

She makes it to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator to find the water jug nearly empty. She rolls her eyes (he always does this) as she refills it and then grabs a bottle of water from the door. She feels instant relief as the coldness sweeps through her.

She goes into the bathroom to splash some water on her face and has to stifle a groan as she notices the little stray bits of hair from his sloppy clean up job from shaving that morning. No matter what, there are always some hairs left somewhere near the sink when he shaves. She wipes them up and heads back to bed.

She lies next to his now snoring form; he must have rolled over after she got up. She takes off her glasses and tries again to fall asleep with no luck. His snoring is not slowing or getting any softer. She can’t sleep while listening to him and she really doesn’t want to wake him. He’s playing ball in the morning and he’d had a bad day at work. She’d sleep in the living room, but she really likes her bed, its better than his and her couch is too small.

Turning on her side, grasping a pillow over her head, she tries to drown out the sound. As she lies there she becomes more annoyed as she thinks about the water jug that he never refills and the messy sink, the shoes she always trips on, and now the loud snoring courtesy of allergy season. The snoring isn’t drowned out in the least and when she can take no more, she rolls over to give him a little push. Sometimes that makes it stop. After a nudge he rolls onto his side and his face lands right in the small pool of moonlight coming in from the gap in the curtains.

His snoring stops and she thinks he has a smile on his face. She puts her glasses back on to get a better look and can no longer think of the things that were just driving her up the wall. She can only see the sweet look on his face as he sleeps, possibly dreaming, maybe about her. She watches his eyelids move back and forth and even hears a slight noise that could be her name. There is a small smile among the new crop of stubble, which will no doubt find its way to her sink sometime this weekend. He’ll go play ball in the morning and after coming home and draining the cold water jug in the fridge, he’ll leave his shoes in her way again before hopping in the shower where he’ll use up most of the hot water.

But the truth is she wouldn’t have it any other way. She knows that for the rest of her life it will be his stubble in the sink, his big shoes in her way and his snoring keeping her awake. As long as it’s his, she can deal with it. No one on earth ever made her feel loved the way he does, no one’s ever looked at her like he does. He can make her feel completely sexy even when she doesn’t feel sexy. He can make her blush down to her toes just with a look. When he holds her tight as he kisses her as if it could be their last kiss, yeah…she could just about die when he does that.

She loves the way he’ll look at her in the mornings just before he gets his shower. While she’s brushing her teeth, wearing her glasses, her bed hair gone wild and her rumpled pajamas, he smiles at her through the mirror in a way that makes her want to melt, and he’ll lean down and kiss her on the side of her neck and whisper “morning” in her ear. Before him, the word ‘morning’ never sounded so good. She can never resist and as usual her clothes are peeled off and she joins him in the steam.

Soon, when she gets back from New York things like this will be everyday, in their house. They’ll sleep and make love in their bed. She’ll get annoyed by his bad habits and he’ll get annoyed by hers. They’ll argue over movies and which kind of popcorn. He likes butter, she likes white cheddar. She’ll have to wipe up the sink and he’ll find her hair in the bath tub drain. He’ll make a sandwich and leave the bag of bread open on the counter. She’ll forget that he likes his peanut butter in the fridge and put it in the cabinet. She’ll have the TV too loud and she’ll spill things a lot. It will be imperfect and completely right, sheer bliss.

Now looking at his face all she can think is hell yeah, she cannot wait to move in with him, share all of these things with him, she cannot wait to marry him. She loves this tall, goofy, sloppy, could kill you with a smile, damn sexy man. She can smell his skin, his shampoo; his fabric softened t-shirt and feels his warmth. She puts her glasses back on the night stand and moves closer as her eyelids become heavy. She leans forward and rests her forehead against his for a moment and kisses his nose. She knows she can finally fall back to sleep; maybe she’ll smile in her sleep too while dreaming of him and their lives together. She does smile when he reaches out and pulls her to him sighing contently into her hair.
Chapter End Notes:
I own nothing!


iwantphillyjim is the author of 4 other stories.
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