Nap (fiction)

This was inspired by a scene in a tv show so it can't really be sent out into the world as solely my own. Also it's incredibly fluffy. But it can have a little place here amonst my ramblings.

Nap

‘Oh geez.’ I think.

I’m all stiff and deliciously groggy. I groan a little and stretch awkwardly on the couch. My toes get caught in something. Did I cover up with the afghan? I don’t think so. Maybe I did it in my sleep. I’m practically tucked in. I roll and try to ease out that muscle by my shoulder blade and I see him.

He’s sitting in the chair by the fire, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, one hand on his stomach, his cheek propped up on the other fist and he’s fast asleep.

I roll over onto my side and just watch him for a bit. I wish I was one of those hands either feeling his rippling stomach muscles as he breathes gently in and out. Or the one that’s cradling his stubbly cheek. I know it’s warm. Hot practically, he heats up as he sleeps. I could go over there and run my fingers through his wiry hair. I could kiss those delicious lips. I lick my lips involuntarily at the thought of how soft his would be. Ugh, but I’m so tired I don’t think I can get up.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The fire is still pretty high but if I know him he built it up to a roaring blaze before he sat down. He knows I hate to be cold.

I’m not a nap person. I’ve got no time for that but sometimes I can’t help it and he always finds me. I can hardly count the number of times I’ve found him, here, or on the porch or in my room, woken to find him smiling over me. To hear me tell it he sounds like some freakish stalker but that’s not how it feels. It feels as though I’m safe, always, and it makes me sleep better.

My hip is all crunchy and out of joint from sleeping on the couch. I’ll never get back to sleep so I get up, kicking and wriggling to extract my toe from the crocheted afghan and pad over to his chair. For a moment I just stand in front of him and watch.

He’s so very beautiful and I love him so much.

Finally I lay my hand on his exposed cheek, “Come on sweetie, wake up.” He stirs a bit but doesn’t open his eyes. I lay a lingering kiss on his forehead and whisper in his ear, “Wake up, baby. Time to get up.”

He groans and my skin tingles. I kiss him again and pick his hand up from where it lies on his stomach. He opens his eyes, lifts his head and looks blearily around. I love that sleepy look. He could be 10 or 30, he’s vulnerable and I just want to wrap my arms around him and take care of him.

“What?” he asks.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Time to go to bed.”

“OK.” He gets up from the chair slowly and his hand rests heavily on my shoulder while I lead him to the hallway. “Uh…wait…” he slips from my grasp and heads back toward the living room.

“No, no sweetie this way.” I think he’s headed back to the couch or the chair.

“Fire” he says and I wait while he banks the fire and puts the screen in front of it. Then he’s back with his arms around me from behind and we stumble awkwardly to the bedroom.

When I turn to close the door he flings himself face first onto the bed. He’s still wearing his coat and his boots. I sit next to him and start to tug his sleeves. He rouses briefly, sitting to let me pull off his coat as he toes off his unlaced boots. Then he peels off t-shirt, socks, jeans, crawling under the covers, pulling me with him. I wriggle back against him to get comfortably spooned. He roots through my hair to place a kiss on my jaw and whisper, “’Night beautiful.”

“’Night.”

And I fall almost immediately to sleep.