After Midnight (a.i.)

55

Scratching is the first thing I hear when I wake from my restful sleep. Scratching and soft hums, soothing the slight ache in my head while I gradually come to a state of consciousness.

Against the blinding sun bleeding into the room, I peel my eyes open to a slight squint. My sight is clouded by yellow, faded and worn and crumpled, embracing the body in bed beside me.

I curl closer to him naturally while I fully wake, earnest for the warmth always radiating from him. The sunrise oozing through the blinds shines on him with pride, accentuating the scratchy beard on his jaw and small hoop glimmering in his ear. Those honey eyes are downcast, focused on the task at hand as that scratching sound comes into play. A pen and paper, scribbling along to the thoughts in his head, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth.

His eyes flicker when I tangle my legs with his, cuddling into his lower half while he sits upright against the headboard. When his hazel eyes catch mine, he gently smiles.

"Sleep well?" His voice is soft as velvet, lacing through my ears to pull a satisfied hum from my chest. I nod, nuzzling closer to him and burying myself in his sheets. I'm unable to hide the grin of content stretching on my face.

"What's that look for?" Ashton muses, his notepad dropping to his lap to give me his undivided attention. His eyes sparkle at the complacency overtaking my features.

"I've never seen you in yellow." I mumble, voice groggy from sleep. Under the covers, I lift a hand to tug on his worn sweatshirt. He lets out a humored breath at my appeased noises. "You only wear black."

"Black's nice." He places his notepad on the table beside him and gracefully scoots down to level with me under the covers. Once he's down beside me, he smirks at my instant attack into his chest. He allows it and wraps his arm around my back once I've buried myself into him.

"I like the yellow. Makes you look less scary." I tell him with a sigh of content, my head in his neck and my bare legs tangled with his under the warm sheets. His hand finds the small of my back and he chuckles.

"I'm scary?" He wonders. I feel his fingers inch under the back of my shirt and my chest flutters.

"You have your moments, but I know you're just a softie." I tease him further, ignoring the tingles in my stomach from his wandering hand under my shirt. I swallow a breath.

"Only for you." He tells me, voice smiling above me. His bare neck in front of me is too inviting, my mouth can't help but plant itself on his soft skin. I give him a few curious kisses until he urges me closer to him.

"How long have you been up?" I mumble into his neck, my fingers tugging on his plush sweatshirt while he hums.

"Couple hours." He says softly. His hand draws to my thigh draped over his waist. "Your sister's on a winning streak in scrabble."

"You're losing scrabble to a seven year old?" I can't help but snort at the subtle irritation in his voice. As competitive as I know him to be, I hope he can go easy on my little sister.

"She played 'zygote'." Ashton defends himself with a huff, his annoyance growing at my clear amusement. I can't help it. "I don't know what the fuck a zygote even is."

I'll admit, it's pretty adorable that he's playing games and entertaining my sister. Ever since that phone call she's been raving about him. I'm sure she's over the moon.

"Did she say anything about yesterday?" I ask quietly. I hope I didn't completely ruin my sister's holiday.  Not that she cares much about the holidays, but I don't want to expose her to such adult subject matter. She's only seven, she doesn't need to know the true reason her sister ditched her last night.