Not A Morning Person
Crossing the small, cramped trailer, I sank onto the couch causing David, our black snarky cat, to leap onto the counter of the small kitchen across from me. He hissed, then folded his tail contemptuously, facing away from me.
"Jeez, who pissed in your cat food?" I asked agitated and nervous, but feeling slightly guilty. Taking your anger out on your cat definitely wasn't an approved method to release steam, but in my defense, David had ripped a new unplanned hole in my favorite jeans.
The cat looked pointedly back at me, before stretching and leaping gracefully into my mother's bedroom. I wryly watched him go, feeling immature.
Sighing, I fiddled with my gloves anxiously. Tonight, Ben and I were going into town (the Faire was currently parked in France) to do a little shopping for Imogen, his sister. She had broken her leg in somewhat of a freak accident with Desdemona (though I swear Desdemona did on purpose).
She'd been practically crying when Peter, a co-owner of the Faire, had announced we were heading to Paris a few days ago. And now that we were finally here, she had begged me to go into town for her a shop a little. She must've been really desperate to ask me to buy clothes for her, but she also asked if I could take pictures of the town. I had been about to refuse (knowing I wouldn't last long in a large crowd) when Ben had come out of his room. He had looked so adorable, his long silky hair ruffled, a look of innocent sleepiness on his face, not to mention his lack of shirt and defined toned and delectable muscles.
He had drowsily looked at us and walked into the kitchen, seeming to not register his sister and his girlfriend were watching him do so.
All I could manage to do was stare slightly open-mouthed at him as he slumped over the kitchen table. I turned to Imogen.
She chuckled at my expression, then said "Ben is not a 'morning person', or rather an 'evening person'. He'll be back to normal in a minute. Hold on, I need to get something out of my room." She limped on her crutches over to their bedroom and shut the door behind her, a smile on her face.
I walked cautiously over to the kitchen table, chuckling when I saw his head slumped against the table. His face was tilted towards me, his eyes closed, with a look of grumpy agitation creasing his eyebrows.
My hand reached out with a mind of its own and gently smoothed the crease, his expression softening instantly under my touch.
I smiled gently, amused. I let my fingers softly draw a line down from his brow to his nose then over his eyelids as gently as I could manage. His full lips had tilted at the edges, a content smile playing on his face.
An idea struck me as a strand of his hair fell into his face. Brushing it back, I leaned down to his ear. "Wake up, Ben." I whispered into his ear, my lips touching the side of his face.
He stirred a little, head tilting slightly to listen more to the sound of my voice. His hand beside his head on the table twitched.
Leaning down again, I whispered again into his ear, gently teasing. "Ben, its time to wake up."
He grumbled at this, turning away from my voice childishly. His hand curled into a loose fist.
A grin had spread across me face now as I gently coaxed his fingers loose. Tracing the outline of his hand, I placed a soft kiss on his exposed neck, blowing softly on his skin.
He let out a soft moan, clasping his fingers around mine. He turned his face back to mine, his long eyelashes fluttering dreamily. I blushed deep red as I looked back into smoldering ebony eyes, knowing he was now fully aware.
Chuckling again, I kissed his forehead shyly. Stepping back, I grinned sheepishly at him before saying softly, "Good morning, Ben."