Absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed. (Dream x Reader)

Chapter 34 - Only when I have a muse,

The sun woke you up way too early. The light streamed through the windows and right into your eyes. They fluttered open groggily.

You rolled over, expecting your back to meet Clay's chest, like it usually did when you woke up, but you were met with an open bed. The blankets on the side he usually claimed were neatly laid across the bed, made.

Your head popped up immediately and your eyebrows furrowed together. You looked around the room, but Clay wasn't there. You waited for a few moments, thinking maybe he went to the bathroom, but after waiting long enough, he still hadn't come back. He was never gone before you woke up.

You threw the covers off and curiously stood up. You opened the door and listened for a moment. You couldn't hear the typical racket that indicated your brother and Clay were awake and being jackasses together, so you assumed they weren't downstairs. The door to Clay's filming room was open, and empty, so he wasn't there either. The last door before the staircase was open, when it was usually shut tight. The library.

You peeked around the corner of the doorway and saw Clay sitting in the window nook, a journal open on his lap with a pen in one hand, scribbling quick notes into it. His left hand was draped down the side, scratching Patches' head. She was lying on the floor, head and paws resting on an old novel. The morning sun cascaded into the room, falling just where she was laying, asleep. She looked warm and magnificent and utterly comfortable.

Oh, to be the lucky cat that was sitting in the patch of sunlight, being pet by Clay. You couldn't help but think about his hands. You were about to stop yourself from thinking about his hands, like you weren't allowed to or something, and then you remembered that you were in fact allowed to think about his hands. As much as you wanted to, actually.

Brain: brrrr.

Head: still a bit tired.

Thoughts: hands.

Hotel? Trivago.

Somehow, Clay still hadn't noticed you standing in the doorway. He seemed pretty entranced in whatever he was writing.

You watched as the sun moved from behind a cloud and lit up his face, accentuating his features. His eyes became bright and forest green in the light, and he squinted away from it. As he turned away from the window, trying to shield his eyes, his eyes locked on yours for just a moment.

He didn't say anything, just gestured with his head for you to come into the room with a smile gracing his face. You walked in and sat across from Clay in the little window nook. You curled your knees up and hugged them, trying to take up as little space as possible, and then you threw the thin blanket over yourself that had been resting by his feet.

Clay continued to write, just basking in the sunlight, knowing he looked like a goddamned God. You waited for a bit, staring at him. He would occasionally peek over the book he was writing in, flashing you a grin or a wink, but he stayed pretty focused for the most part.

"What are you working on?" You asked after several minutes of silence. You'd been staring at him for way too long.

He lowered the journal and smiled. "Just something I've been putting off for a while."

"What is it?"

He responded hesitantly. "...a poem."

"You write poetry?"

"Rarely. Only when I have a muse," He grinned at your reaction and leaned forward, brushing your hair behind your ear.

You smiled and your gaze dropped to the floor where Patches lay, avoiding Clay's potent green eyes. "Will you read what you have so far?" You asked.