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 Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2014 8:10 am
Tuesday, August 12th, 2014 Paris's favorite part about the mornings was waking up to sunlight on her face and Chris's warm presence beside her. Certainly in her yesteryears she'd been something of an early riser (indeed, she'd been the sort to stay up late and rise early and go about her life as if such minimal sleep had little to no impact on her whatsoever). The years and a more regular sleep schedule had changed little about her habit of rising with the sun, except that she now fully embraced being a Morning Person.
Summer mornings were the most pleasing, she decided. Of course, she found something to appreciate in each of the seasons—the temperateness of spring, the crispness of fall, the holiday flare inherent in winter—but the summer sun seemed to her to be the brightest, and therefore the most welcoming. She stretched contentedly, her legs straightening beneath the sheets, feet arched and toes separating as she threw her arms over her head. A pleasant smile adorned her face; rather than yawning she sighed contentedly.
Only moments after waking, Paris rolled over in her patch of sunlight (she always conveniently “forgot” to shut the blinds before bed) and snuggled against the warm body next to her, tossing an arm across Chris's chest and burying her face into his neck and shoulder. When he didn't immediately stir she propped herself up onto an elbow to stare at him (and told herself it wasn't creepy at all; they were married, after all).
“Pooooooh Beeaaaaaaar,” she whispered.
The clock on the bedside table read 6:48 AM. Too early for Chris to stumble his way out of bed on his own, but just the right time for Paris to greet the day. Normally she would have let him sleep, but today was a special day.
Grinning to herself, Paris leaned close to Chris's ear, gave it a kiss, and then began to sing quietly, “I don't know about you... But I'm feelin' twenty-two~... Everything will be alright if... You keep me next to you~... You don't know about me... But I'll bet you want to~... Everything will be alright if... We just keep dancin' like we're... Twenty-two~o~o...”
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2014 4:00 pm
While Chris didn’t wake up right away, it was difficult to ignore the singing in your ear. It didn’t take long for him to groan at the sudden awareness of light flooding the room, or the heat radiating from Paris as she leaned close to him.
“Ughh, you’re too hot,” he grumbled in a half asleep daze, twisting away from her and seeking his pillow to burrow under, away from the light and sound. This was an occasional complaint from him — not that he was against Paris’s closeness… she was just so… physically… hot. Cuddling was often cut short when he got uncomfortable, which led to endless complaints about how ever since they were married he never wanted to be affectionate.
That wasn’t true at all! It was just… when he was trying to sleep, he liked being cool, rather than burning up from the heat of someone next to him. He couldn’t even manage to have Annabel cuddle with him, try as she might.
Chris groaned once more, knowing Paris would probably be offended by his whining, and continued in his original roll away from her, so he could turn onto his stomach and then onto his opposite side, blinking blearily at her. “What time is it?” he barely managed as he wiggled closer to her… just not with as much physical contact.
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2014 4:20 pm
“Oh my Gooooooooooooood,” Paris whined. This time she made no effort to be quiet.
She let Chris pull away but flopped dramatically onto the bed, flailing around in an overdone display of disappointment. She stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, then scrunched up her face like a sad soul deprived of comfort. It likely did not look at all attractive, but then it was early morning; what did she care about looking attractive? Her hair was a tangled mess of frizzy curls, her face splotched with color and sleep lines, and she could feel drying goop in the corners of her eyes.
Paris was also pretty sure they could both use a good tooth brushing and a shower, not to mention a trip to the toilet, but things like that tended to seem a little less gross when you spent a good chunk of your time around the same person. They'd seen worse of each other, surely.
“Ever since we got married, you never want to cuddle anymore!” she continued. It was halfhearted at best and entirely untrue, but it was a routine complaint these days, her disappointment feigned. Paris jumped up to bounce along the mattress and pounce on her husband without warning.
“It's almost seven o'clock!” she announced, and knew what Chris's reaction was likely to be at the early hour. “The sky's awake, so I'm awake,” she teased, tossing her hands in another dramatic display. “And it's your birthday. Happy birthday, Pooh Bear, time to wake uuuuuuuuuuuupppppp!”
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Posted: Thu Aug 14, 2014 5:35 pm
Chris didn’t care what Paris looked like. Yeah he thought she was prettier when she was all dolled up, or at least with her hair brushed, but he also thought being able to see her without makeup and her hair a mess was rather endearing.
Of course, he wouldn’t mind if she was less, you know, loud.
He rolled his eyes when she whined right back at him for never cuddling — to be expected — and let out an “oof” as she pounced on him. “Ugh, Paris, what the hell you’re heavy,” he whined overdramatically. She wasn’t heavy, but she did surprise him when she’d pounced. And even though his whining was only teasing, he let out an exasperated breath when she continued.
“Oh my god, Paris. Will you stop quoting that movie??” he groaned, grabbing his pillow to shove at her, pushing her off of him and flopping gently on top of her in return. Mostly to keep her from bouncing around, and then making a halfhearted effort to close his eyes and go back to sleep. He didn’t put his whole weight on her, but enough so she couldn’t keep jumping around.
“My birthday isn’t until Tuesday,” he corrected her with a huff. Of everything she remembered, she couldn’t remember his birthday was on the 12th? Jeez…
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2014 3:28 pm
Paris yelped upon finding a pillow shoved into her face, flopping ungracefully onto her back as Chris rolled over onto her. Pushing the pillow off the side of the bed, Paris made a brief show of trying to break free. Her efforts were completely subverted by the arms that soon wrapped themselves around her husband.
“Pooh. Bear,” she stressed.
Every once in a while they had entire conversations for the sole purpose of repeating their pet names for one another back and forth in increasingly sweet voices.
“Pooh Bear!” she would say.
“Baby!” Chris would respond.
“Poooooooooooh Bear!”
“Baaaaaaaaaaaaby!”
“Poobity-Poob!”
Paris had to admit it was quite disgusting.
Presently she gave Chris's shoulder a playful shove while peppering what portions of his face were available to her with kisses.
“It is Tuesday, Pooh Bear,” she announced. “Which meeeeeaaaans, it is your birthday. And since you don't have a game tonight I thought we'd have breakfast in bed and then go out to the farmer's market and pick up a few things, and I wanted to take you out to lunch and give you your presents,” she continued. “Then Momma's throwing a party for you at dinner. She's making lasaaaaaaaaaaaagnaaaaaaaaa~”
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