Benedict Cumberbatch Imagine- The Girl in the Window

Grey In The Morning

Ready? Okay, go get your tea. Don't have any? Well, that's okay for now. Just get comfortable and let's begin. Shall we?




Imagine that you are in bed, the gold and grey early morning light coming in through the high paned windows. You're buried in your deep blue comforter and beside you lies a man. And he's not just any man, he is yours. With his every breath comes a sound like the kissing of the ocean against the shoreline. His eyes that are comparable to the universe are hidden from view, underneath his soft, pale eyelids. He is at peace, his face relaxed and calm, his cupids bow in the lightest of smiles. Your body is shaped to his side, your legs tangled with his, your arm is draped across his bare chest. You retract it so you can bring up your other hand to fiddle with his hair which had become disheveled and messy, complimenting his sleeping angelic-ness wholly.




You smile at this dream, for that is all this could be; an impeccable creation of your mind, a fantasy that makes your very nerve tingle with pleasure. And you will be okay when you wake up, because you know that nothing could be as faultless as this, where you are hopelessly in love with the man of your dreams and he is irrevocably in love with you. That just couldn't be possible could it? You couldn't be sleeping next to him in his flat that you shared on a Sunday morning in London with the light of a new born day trickling in through the window. That's the kind of thing that you dreamed about daily, every day and way since you were that girl sitting up pretending to read a book late at night, dreaming about the life you and the boy in the window could have.




You start as you realize that this is the same boy, grown up to be the most charming, dignified and refined man you had laid eyes on. Your hand trails from his dark, loose curly hair and delicately caressed his face, touching his defined cheekbones, charting the dips and perfect imperfections of his face. You couldn't stop staring at him, the sleep slowly leaving your body and letting you realize that this wasn't a dream. You were just inconceivably lucky.




As your fingers outlined his lips, your eyes traveled back up to his and you found yourself staring into a supernova. The green and blue and gold were so unbelievably pure and mixing together in undiluted ways. The smile that formed on his lips showed in his eyes. His hand found its way from under the covers where it had been resting on your leg and covered your hand that was situated on his lips with it, before gripping it lightly and moving it down until it was positioned on his chest, directly above his heart where you could feel the movement of it beating.




"Morning love." He smiled, voice thick with sleep. He then propped himself up on his side, head angling toward you and cupped your face before leaning in and brushing his lips against yours.




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You and Benedict had woken up together, just slowly making your way out from under the covers in a tangle of limbs and kisses. Neither of you have anywhere to be except with each other. Benedict had gone and hopped in the shower and you had conceded to go to the kitchen and started making tea and pancakes, turning on your favourite tunes (For me in this moment, it would be You Got Me),starting the kettle then mixing the batter and portioning them out onto the pan, watching them brown a golden colour, the smell reaching your nose and the water heating in the kettle making you smile just a bit more.




You could hear the shower stop running, the sound of Ben leaving it and walk to your room to get dressed. It isn't minutes later when arms are slipping around your waist and bringing you close to Ben's body, molding around you perfectly, his cheek softly pressing up against your hair. You can smell his shampoo and feel the dampness of his skin and hair and you can't get enough of it. He sighs and breathes you in, one of your ultimate favourite songs beginning to leak through the speakers, Crazy Love sung by Jason Manns and Jensen Ackles. You lean back into Ben's arms, rolling into his shape, your cheek resting on your shoulder and his cheek still pressed to your head contentedly.