I'm Done For.

Awakening the Beast

"Fuck this waffle maker, for real," I grumbled, scraping burned batter from the machine's grooves and ridges. "Just because I didn't spray it beforehand...fucking fucker. Too damn early for this shit."

The waffles themselves didn't deserve this treatment, and my subconscious was aware of this fact - but my ego also had a hand in the breakfast preparations, and they had to be perfect for the boys. Nick, Matt, and Chris wouldn't be awake until around 10, so I had time. "But it's the principle of the matter," I said aloud. Duchess looked at me concerned until she remembered she was a cat and therefore didn't have to care.

Normally, breakfast didn't exist in this house, but today was different. The boys were leaving on tour and since I couldn't go with them, I wanted to make something special. Hence, waffles.

An hour later, I'd finally pioneered a brand new way to make waffles (Author's Note: She made it more difficult than it needed to be), and the boys were beginning to wake up. Chris poked his head up above the railing, ascending the stairs from his basement of a room.

"Hi," he said, grinning once he saw the spread on the coffee table. Dinner tables were unheard of in the triplet's household, so I made the executive decision to feed them in the living room. Plates of waffles with whipped cream and fruit sat almost stock-photo-esque on the low table in front of the couch, bathed in the sunlight streaming in from their ridiculously high windows.

"Hey bubs," I replied, pulling a Pepsi from the fridge and holding it out for him.

"Thank you for...everything. Damn," Chris said, surveying the gorgeous meal.

"The kitchen tried to kill me," I told him, gesturing to the couch. "Sit. Eat. Go go go."

He smiled again, running a hand through his messy hair and shaking it. "Yes ma'am."

I hid my smile by bustling around the island, getting juices for Matt and Nick. "I hope you like it. I know you don't like cantaloupe so I tossed those."

"Bro, this is crazy. Thank you." Chris flopped on the couch cushions and began to devour his waffles, nudging Duchess away with his foot. "I can't believe you gave me all the strawberries."

"No problem," I said with a laugh. "I'm gonna go wake up the other two." I went up the stairs to get Nick, wondering how long Chris would stay focused on the whipped cream in his eyebrow.

x o x o

Nick could situate himself and his food, so I just tapped on his door and waited for a response. "Breakfast is on the coffee table whenever you're ready," I said, and he replied with gratitude from behind his closed door.

That was always the easy part. Now it was time to awaken the beast. Back down the stairs I went towards Matt's room. 

Normally we let Matthew wake up on his own, especially in the winter. However, today I wanted to try something brand new - getting him up gently. I walked past the linen closet (Author's Note: Bachelors, especially those in Los Angeles, do not own linens, and therefore the linen closet contained the next most logical item - an impressive assortment of Legos. But to their credit, the triplets also stored their washer and dryer in there) and knocked on Matt's door. No response. 

I tried again. Still nothing. 

Mustering up my courage, I grabbed the door handle and pushed.

x o x o

Matt's room was still a little sparse, empty wall space left over from the Liam Neeson photos that once lived there. But he was finally making an effort with his décor, and I thought it was really cool. A metal silhouette of an owl hung on this wall, an enhanced photo of Matt in Vermont on the other. Rustic furniture stood in each corner, and Mr. Wrinkleton the Pug Dictator perched imperiously on his very own shelf. A poster leaned against the closet door, and his suitcase spilled over onto the floor with shirts, pants, socks, and everything else he would need for tour. 

Underneath the brown comforter lay a Matt-shaped lump. It snored. I stepped over a log pillow that had wound up on the floor and touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Matt?" I whispered. 

His tattooed arm snaked out from under his plaid pillow and smacked onto my hand. Matt grumbled something and began to pull my wrist toward him. "Matt, buddy, it's time to get up," I said, trying unsuccessfully to pry my limb free.

"No," he muttered. "Cold." By this point I was leaning over him, still held hostage. 

"I made you breakfast," I tried again. Surely that'll work. (Author's Note: It didn't.)

"Cold. Bed. Get in." Matt's voice was gravelly and deep, enriched by hours of rest. I almost didn't realize what he said.

"You want me to-" He didn't even respond that time. The next thing I knew, I was laying in his bed with his arm flopped over me. Matt promptly began to snore once again. 

I froze. His leg was hooked around mine and I'd already gotten fully entangled by the blankets. "Matt..." I murmured. "You gotta get up." Instead of responding, he tightened his grip on my back, pulling me closer towards him and the warmth he held at the center of the bed. 

"I don't wanna," Matt grumbled. "Wanna sleep. You should...sleep too...." As he trailed off, I realized I was losing him. 

It wouldn't be the worst thing ever to take a quick little nap...just a few minutes...it's pretty warm in here, and he smells really good, almost like pine trees and ABSOLUTELY NOT ABORT ABORT ABORT!

I wrenched myself free from Matt's agonizingly comfortable grasp and took the comforter with me, smacking him for good measure. "I woke up two hours early to make you breakfast. Get up and get ready, you're gonna be late for your own damn tour." He growled curses at me from under his arms, and I retaliated by turning on the lights. "Come on. Chris is eating all your strawberries."

"Oh fuck." Matt rolled up to a sitting position and scrubbed sleep from his eyes. "Why didn't you start with that."

I stepped out and before I closed the door behind me, I said, "Because fuck you, that's why."

I hope he didn't hear my heart racing.

x o x o 

When I got back to the ground floor, Nick and Chris were thoroughly enjoying their waffles. Someone had fed Duchess, and I even saw a plate made for me. "Thanks, guys," I said with a downturned smile.

"Of course," Nick said, and I settled on the couch with them, tucking my feet under a blanket. "Is this Bluey?" I asked, gesturing to the screen with my fork. Nick nodded and took a blueberry from my plate. I swished him with my napkin while taking a strawberry slice from Chris.

"Jackass," he grumbled, giving me another one. We watched Bluey in a comfortable silence. I tried my damnedest to ignore the butterflies in my stomach - I could still feel Matt's hand on my back, and the lack of heat made me shiver.

Jesus Christ. What have I gotten myself into?