Neverending Peace

Never Grow Up

The picnic had seemed such a nice idea at the time: pack up sandwiches, get some sun, have a nice restful day at the park. Taylor had added something about "bird-watching."

Instead they'd both fallen asleep after scoffing down some food, too hungry and tired after a long week burning too many candles at both ends. They had slept away this lovely Sunday afternoon in the sunshine.

Joe blinked sleepily awake, from the bad dream he'd been having. It was the same one as always. Taylor leaving without saying anything as he never gets to tell her he loves her. Luckily this one was much less aggressive and didn't affect him as much once he'd woken up. Something was digging into his hip, and something else in his side. He rolled away, wincing. The thing in his side was Taylor's elbow. Taylor was still asleep, splayed out, mouth open. She looked younger, innocent while asleep.

It would be difficult to keep an affectionate smile off his face. Fortunately, he didn't need to: no-one was watching. Joe reached out and gently mussed Taylor's short, blonde hair the few pieces that remained. He made sure she knew she didn't have to wear a wig around him. He thought she was just as beautiful in her natural form because it was her and that's all that mattered. He couldn't have been so soppy if Taylor were awake. He'd be embarrassed.

Taylor stirred under her hand, her lips pursing slightly, and settled down again to sleep. She slept a lot now and Joe always made sure she got rest whenever she'd completed an activity.

Joe reached for the thermos and drank some warm tea. He debated dribbling some on Taylor's forehead to waken her—or dipping his fingers in, that old schoolboy trick. Ah, but no—let her sleep. She looked like a big kid. He didn't want to take moments like this for granted. He never knew how many he'd have left. Something moved on Joe's leg and he brushed it away automatically. He looked down. Ants. A thrifty and diligent stream of them trooped across the plaid blanket carrying crumbs, or on their way to fetch crumbs. Taylor's fault, he decided; messy eater.

Joe started to shoo the ants away—then hesitated. They were in an awfully straight line—nearly to where Taylor's hand now lay stretched out. Hm...only have to shift a few crumbs and...

He began to shift. Here a bit of biscuit, a scrap of ham that had somehow escaped from a sandwich, and from Taylor. He dropped them in artful bits up to and over Taylor's hand. He was very careful to drop them lightly, so as not to waken her. And—there! The last, sticky bit from a bun went on the middle of the back of Taylor's hand.

Joe grinned and drew back. I shall call this piece of art, Man and Ants, he decided, making a posh face and laughing to himself. Then he settled back to watch, well out of the way of the ants. He settled his chin in his hands and observed.

At first the ants didn't catch on, but shortly they were trooping further along the crumb path towards Taylor's hand, and onto it. They climbed the thumb; they scaled knuckles. They reached a triumphant bun!

Taylor, walked upon by little feet, twitched in his sleep. A furrow appeared between her brows. She twitched.

Carrying bits of bun bigger than their heads, the ants began the return trip down the hand.

Taylor raised her hand in her sleep, shaking ants and crumbs off. She brushed at it with his other hand, sending the rest flying. She mumbled something under his breath, coming half awake.

"I shall call it Nature's Alarm Clock," said Joe, grinning. He bent and held a leaf in front of one anxious, running ant who had lost her crumb and was at sixes and sevens.

After a moment of nerves for the ant, during which Joe held the leaf very still, she climbed aboard and he ferried her away, off the blanket, away from the sleeping giant, and onto the grass.

He felt someone watching him, and looked up. Taylor's sleepy eyes regarded him. "Hiya," said Taylor. Even his mouth looked sleepy and relaxed.

"'Tay," said Joe. He ferried another ant to safety and gave Taylor a smile.

The sleepy woman shifted a little. "What're you so cheerful about?"

"Invented something."

"Oh yeah. What?" Taylor shifted, putting a hand under her head and looking interested. She was waking up a bit. It usually took a while for the fog to leave her brain once she got up.

Joe grinned. "A new sort of alarm clock."

"You going to patent it? Make a billion pounds?" She looked even more interested. "Quit as my manager—hire me for your chauffer?"

Joe snorted. "Yeah, with your driving! No, I don't think it's that sort of invention."

"Well, what then? C'mon. Don't I tell you everything?"

"Sometimes you won't stop."

Taylor made a face.

Joe ignored that expression and ferried another ant. This one had managed to retain her bun fragment. Taylor was still watching him. Taylor jerked her chin at Joe. "C'mon. Spill, mate."

Joe looked up at her from under smiling brows. "Nature's alarm clock."

Taylor laughed, and flopped back on her back, pillowing her head on her arms. "That all? That's easy—just drink a lot of water before you go to sleep."

"Or." Joe pinched a fragment of bun up and dropped it on Taylor's elbow.

"What...?" She shifted and stared at his elbow, and brushed the crumb away. "Get off."

"You put crumbs on people's hands, mate. Lead the ants to them."

Taylor's eyes widened. "That's—I wasn't dreaming! There was something crawling on me!"

"Regular genius, you are."

Taylor shoved him in the shoulder. "Just wait till you fall asleep! I'll invent something for you!"

She sat up, brushed the fallen leaves from her hair. "I've had enough bloody nature. Ready for a pint and-or the cinema?"

"Anything good playing?" Joe rose and began to gather the picnic things.

"Probably a horror film about giant ants," muttered Taylor.

"Probably," agreed Joe. "Starring a lazy picnicker who falls asleep after gorging herself—"

Taylor threw a bun at him.

Joe tried to duck, but it landed—and stuck—in his hair.

Taylor's turn to laugh.

And Joe's turn to lunge at him, bun in hand, danger in his eyes.

And the next day, Joe fell asleep in his car, very unwisely, and woke up with an ink moustache and spectacles drawn round his eyes.