You Fill My Heart

I Dare You To Move

"Ricky" She whispered, poking lightly at his sleeping form beside her, "Ricky, wake up."

At the last nudge, his body shot up, "What's wrong?" Questioning her sleepily, "W-what are you doing up at -" He peered through the dark apartment at the single ray of light shown from the clock above the stove. It's green digits flashing in a blur. "3:17?"

"I can't sleep!"

"Ah, the usual. What is it this time, the acid or Braxton?"

"Neither, I'm fine."

"Then why can't you sleep?" Her silence worried him. "Oh no." Ricky stared at her wide eyed, "The baby- it's-it's not like coming is it? You're not like in labor or anything are you?" His breathing had began to speed up slightly.

"No. No nothing like that, I'm fine" Dismissing his worries, Amy placed a hand on his bare bicep, "I...miss you..."

"What are you talking about?" He chuckled, a little amused, "I'm right here"

"No, I mean I miss you" Her hand started moving up and down his arm before moving to his chest; brushing the lines of his pecs with her fingers.

His eyes squinted "...Okay..."

"I mean I really, really miss you..." She purred into his ear, before grazing her teeth to the lobe. Now he understood.

Amy's sex hormones had begun to reach their peak the past couple of weeks, making it very difficult to be within 5 feet of her.

Truly enjoying the attention, he sighed. "And I really miss you, but I'm tired. 6 o'clock comes fast, I've got school and work and-"

Amy moved to his mouth, smirking against his lips and deepening it a little further. Her hand started moving south, placing the tips of her fingers at the button in the center of his blue boxers.

Eyes widening at the draft, he pulled back,. "Amy stop... ", removing her hand from the southern hemisphere of his body, "you know we can't-"

She stopped him with her lips again, running her right hand into his messy curls. "We can if you want..."

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"Apple juice!" John screamed from his booster seat, flinging a piece of his small pancake onto the floor that his dad had spent the morning mopping before starting breakfast.

"John, stop!" Amy scolded, picking up the discarded piece of food leaving a syrup trail on the once clean floor.

The morning had started off rough for everyone and was only getting worse as the minutes passed. John had awoken wet and cranky, which infuriated Amy, who complained to Ricky.

After Ricky had removed the soiled bedspread and undressed a wet John, the boy had taken to a tantrum over not being able to wear his pajamas and light-up shoes that were caked with mud from the puddles he decided to jump in the day before.

Deciding that this wasn't a battle either one of them wanted to deal with - as the thrashing, screaming toddler pounded his fists against the hardwood floor - Amy sought a compromise: allow the pajamas, but let her wash the shoes for tomorrow. Seeming okay with that reasoning, John agreed; beaming with accomplishment as he ran his hands along the legs of his salmon pink Patrick pajama pants.

Now they faced yet another irrational tantrum.

It was mid December now which meant Ricky and Amy had midterm finals the rest of the week before going on break. It became too noisy and difficult for Ricky to get any studying done between John's tantrums and Amy's constant need for attention. So, for the past week, he took refuge in the mornings before class started; studying fiercely inside the dark corner of the library. This morning however, he had missed that opportunity.