Talking to the Moon // dreamnotfound

i know you're somewhere out there

"Morning, baby," I said, still cuddling George close as I watched him wake. Even though I saw it every morning, he seemed more beautiful than the last. Hair ruffled, freckles a little more prominent on top of a morning flush he always had. The sun burst through the curtains happily dancing across his features and I couldn't help but just smile at him.

"Mmgh," George mumbled tiredly and I chuckled. The morning never seemed to be kind to him. "What's the time?"

"Just gone six," I replied after a scattered glance to my watch, even though it was right in front of him from the way I was cuddling him from behind.

"You're gonna have to go get them up then, huh?" George grinned and though I frowned into his neck playfully, I gave it a kiss.

"Mmm, ok but you're gonna have to start breakfast then, huh?" I replied through a yawn and I could feel his eye roll.

George rolled over so that he was facing me, both of our bare chests flush and his arms draped around my neck. My arms hovered at first, though soon one had a hand in George's hair and the other cradled his back as he pulled me into a proper good morning kiss.

Even all of these years on, it still painted blush across both of our cheeks. When we pulled apart, we were slightly panting and swimming the encapsulating ocean of each other's eyes. His were brown, simple to everyone else, but to me, they sparkled with everything good in the world and only ever looked at me with admiration, love and, fairly often, lust.

We had two hours before I had to leave with our children to take them to school, though it always seemed to take far too long to get them up, get them fed and dressed (Harper always had trouble brushing her teeth without spilling toothpaste on her, but she was six so I figured it wasn't too bad) and usher them to school.

Ashton was eight. He seemed very mature for his age, rarely getting into arguments with his peers and always wanting to do whatever homework he was given (even though it was amazingly simple and quick). That was completely the opposite of Harper who would constantly come home from school with dark smudges all over her blouse that George and I would roll our eyes and decide unanimously who was going to be the one scrubbing that evening. But nonetheless, she was as sweet as she was restless.

"Oi," George prodded me. "Go, time is getting on."

I groaned dramatically as I hauled myself up and swung my legs over the side. Once standing, the coolness of the planked floor hissed against the soles of my feet. George was very clearly ogling me and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You still coming down or somethin'?" I joked with a wink and George just frowned and shook his head.

"Hey, I'm allowed to check out my insanely hot husband the morning after he made sweet sweet love to me," he said with his head propped up by a hand.

"Oh, of course. You need to get up too, you know. Eggs don't make themselves," I reasoned and George flopped back down in response.

"So, you're demanding eggs now? I was going to just do cereal, but since his highness is the one asking..." George rolled his eyes but stuck his hands out for me to pull him out of bed.

"Oh, fuck no. I already have to get two children out of bed, I don't need a third," I tutted, wrapping myself in my dressing gown.

"Clay Davidson," he said sternly and I froze. Uh oh. "One more step out of this room and we're getting a divorce, I swear to god. Help me up."

I just looked at him, an amused smirk twitching at the corner of my mouth. "Bet?" I answered and he glared at me. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I'll help you up, idiot."