Not Your Type (Chris Pine FanFic)

Chelsea

Chelsea gradually woke up, raising her hands high above her head and stretching.  For two nights in a row she’d slept long and heavy.    Her energy was renewed and Chelsea was pretty sure the jet lag was gone.  In all her travels she never suffered from it for more than a day, sometimes it eluded her altogether. She rolled over to check the time on the clock, but the pale yellow glow of sunrise in the room already told her it was later than her four a.m. rise the day before.    Propping herself up, she leaned to see the clock.  The small clock was across the room on the nightstand on Chris’ side of the bed.    Immediately, she was distracted from her initial purpose of checking the time.  On the far side of the bed, Chris lay on his back.  One leg was lazily tossed off the side, his foot almost flat on the floor.  The bedspread was at his waist, giving Chelsea very pleasant view of his tanned torso.  One hand was on his chest as if he was pledging allegiance, the other was stretched out into the middle of the king size bed, as if had been reaching out for something.  Chelsea smiled; it was as if she was reaching out for her.   Completely forgetting that she wanted to know the time, she lay on her side and looked at him. I could get used to this.  Chris’ chest rose and fell with each deep breath.   Chelsea carefully scooted closer to him, gently moving his outstretched arm to his side.  She didn’t want to touch him, she just wanted to watch.   A muffled sound came from deep within his throat, he didn’t wake but his breathing changed. 

He started to snore.

Chelsea chuckled.  You’re not as perfect as the average teenager girl would think you are.  She peeked over him at the time.  How on earth is it already half past eight?! The time shocked her.  It took a few minutes for her to remember her current latitude.  She was farther north than the lower forty-eight, of course sunrise would be later. 

Chris continued to snore.  Chelsea really didn’t want to wake him. She could stare at him, so peacefully dreaming away, for a good long while.  She longed to caress his face, but feared disturbing him.   Chris held a lot of stress in his face; it was evident from the few wrinkles she could see on his forehead, near his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.  But now, he looked so stress-free. He looked years younger as he slept, with the exception of the spots of grey in his beard and sideburns. She smiled, she liked those spots. 

I wish we could just stay like this, she thought. No work, no stress, no paparazzi.  Just you, me and a hotel in Amsterdam.  We could get fat off of our daily chocolate sprinkle breakfast, she smiled as she looked at his well-toned stomach.  I’ll get fat; you’ll probably still go to the gym.  Good lord, no wonder you date models. She let her eyes run down the length of his body.  You are so very attractive.  I cannot believe you are here with me.  Chelsea shifted a little closer, placing her hand on his bicep. Good. Lord. She began to run her fingers up and down the muscles in his arm.  Her fingertips traced up his triceps, across his shoulder, and down the line of symmetry his well-defined body.  You sleep hard, she thought.  He still hadn’t woken up and still snored. 

“Wake up,” she whispered.  “We really only have today and a tiny bit of Monday.” Chris didn’t wake. “I mean,” she lovingly touched his face and his parted lips. “I could watch you sleep for hours, but I’d much rather spend the day with an awake you.”  Chelsea leaned in and kissed his cheek, “Wake up.”  He continued to snore. Holy moly. “Chris,” she kissed his cheek again.  His lips closed, surprisingly this increased the volume of his snore.  Chelsea crinkled her nose, then she carefully placed her index finger and thumb on his nose and pinched. 

Chris coughed and sputtered awake.  His shot up and his eyes opened wide. 

“Good morning,” Chelsea said with a playful smiled.