αяє тнσѕє му ¢нυ¢к тαуℓσяѕ? *:.｡..｡.:*ℍ𝕠𝕓𝕚𝕖 𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟 *:.｡. .｡.:*

𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖱𝖳𝖸: 𝖨𝗇 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖣𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌, 𝖸𝖺 𝖧𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖻𝖺𝗀

~

"Hmph." I groan, shoving my face into the nearest pillow in an attempt to get away from the light.

"Do you always sleep this late?"

"Too early." I crack open one eye, shifting the position of my head slightly so I can see. Hobie stands at his side of the bed, pulling a string down to open the blinds. Shirtless.

In the morning light, he looks holy. His trackpants hang low on his hips, accentuating his v-line. Orange light coming through the partially-opened blinds dances over his torso, highlighting the delicate trail of hair that starts splayed across his chest, which then creeps down past his belly button into the plunge of his pants.

I don't bother to hide the fact that I'm staring. Its too early in the morning for me to care. I watch as he continues to pull the cord of the blinds, the muscles in his arm rippling beneath his skin as he does so. Zoo wee mama.

"It's 10, man." My eyes flit back to his face at his response. He smirks back at me, eyes glinting with mischief. "Are you enjoyin' the view?"

"Very much so." I croak, voice rasped from sleep.

"'at's what I like to hear." After fully opening the blinds, Hobie turns his back to me, rummaging through the drawers of his wardrobe. "Are ya gettin' up, or what?"

Slipping off the bed, I come up behind him, and I lean my body weight into his shoulder blades. The heat of his toned back seeps through the thin material of the shirt I slept in, warming me. Still exhausted, I let my head droop onto his shoulder, and I hum against his neck at the pleasant sensation of his borderline feverish body temperature.

"W-what are ya doin'?"

I giggle into his neck. "Did you just stutter, Brown?"

"Don't answer a question wit' a question."

"Fine." I groan, nose still buried into the heat of his neck. "You're warm. I like it."

Hobie suddenly turns around, which throws off my balance.

"Woah there." He manages to grasp my forearm before I fall. "You're a weird one, ya know 'at?"

"Why thank you, kind sir."

"Psh, whateva. Brekky?"

I hum as a way of saying yes, before sidestepping so I can see myself better in the mirror. After Hobie leaves the room to make us breakfast, I make a piss-poor attempt of fixing my hair without a hairbrush.

Good enough, I guess.

"How many eggs?" Hobie calls from the kitchen.

"One is fine, thanks." I yell back. Slipping into the hallway, I pursue the laundry room located near the front door. The cold of the tiled floor seeps into my feet, causing goosebumps to raise along my arms from the chill. I find myself missing the warmth of my chest against Hobie's body.

Creepy thoughts, man.

Swinging the door of the dryer open, I collect my newly washed and dried clothing from within its walls.

No point going back to the bathroom to change. I'll just do it here.

Shucking my sweater over my head, I ponder whether I should put my jeans back on. We are gonna be home for a while, I assume. I will just keep his pants on.

Since the clothes are fresh out the dryer, they are nice and cosey, perfect to combat the crisp air of Hobie's apartment.

By the time I finish getting ready, Hobie is plating up the food he made.