CAMERON MONAGHAN IMAGINES

I Love Us. (Cameron)

These tight, itchy clothes are glued to your skin like a toy sticky hand. This office suit has an intolerable feel, with cheap lint, splintering you.

Stomping into the house, you flick your heels off, not caring which direction they go. Sighing as you do so, relief sweeps over you, and your sore toes. You unwind the bun strapped to your head that was tugging at your scalp. The hairs unbundle, falling to your shoulders.

Every day is long. Every day with a clipboard, coffee, and prescription glasses. You wake up at 5 a.m. and boss people around until 8 p.m. It's nothing to complain about until you legs go numb and muscles become inflamed.

Like clockwork, the dull sounds of the TV travel from around the corner.

You peel off your false eyelashes and remove your lenses, placing both on the stairs in front of you. By now, you usually look like a drunken girl who's forgotten how to keep up a decent appearance.

All you want to do is sit. Sit and sleep. Lay down and sleep. Well, it doesn't matter. As long as you're not standing in this suit.

Limping forward, you recklessly tear off your skirt, dropping it at your feet. Next, you remove your blouse and unbutton the criminal; the cheap linen buttondown. Your sweat attacking the garment makes you a contestant for a wet t-shirt contest.

In sheer relief, you toss the shirt over your shoulder, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs-or clothing- to the living room.

The lull of the TV morphs into a clear, yelling tone. The couch faces the TV before you while a golden-red set of hairs pokes over the top. This is the perfect opportunity for a surprise.

Sure not to make a peep, you let the balls of your feet lead the way closer to the glowing skull. He's oblivious, a sponge to all the TV information being spat at him.

When you arrive, you graze your fingers along the surface of his hairs. So light that he can't feel it. Then, you go in for the kill. Digging your fingers in like it's your first meal in days, you scratch deep in the forrest of his scalp.

The serene boy jumps in place, choking on air. Yet, once he cocks his head back, he drops his shoulders and curves a sweet smile. "Oh, hey Kitten." His hand takes hold of your jaw, roping you in for a sugary greeting kiss.

"Hey Cammi." You call him by his personal nickname for him, going back to work on his scalp. It's a warm place, beneath his hairs. The base is soft and a bit moist, but you don't mind. It's comforting, really. If ever your fingertips are cold you know a safe place to bury them.

Twisting his spine back around, a lightbulb flickers above his forehead. "Whoa, where are your clothes?" You're surprised he didn't notice after his first look.

"I hate my clothes, they're sticky again from the work. And itchy."

Cameron frowns, but only for a second before another idea grows in his head. "As much as I love how you're practically naked, how about a shirt?" Before you have time to react, Cameron folds his shirt over his head, forcing your hands to detach themselves. "Here." He sticks the white T-shirt in your grasp.

Giving his attention back to the TV, you drape the shirt over your head. It's cotton and warm from his body heat. It flows to the middle of your buttcheeks.

After examining your reflection in the patio window, you pull the final straw; letting the boobs free. You unhook your bra and a wave of Euphoria shivers you at the base of your neck as everything is liberated.

You're too tired to spring over the couch like usual, so you walk around and dismiss your leg muscles. Plopping on your butt, you immediately head for the free space: Cameron's lap. You don't know what it is about his lap in particular, but my favorite place to be is there. It's possibly the feeling of being coddled. Your head is wedged in the angle between his crotch and bare abs.

He dangles his arm over your chest, pulling your body closer to him. "Okay day?" He asks.

"No, but everything's okay now that I'm here with you." You realize how cheesy that sounded so you giggle and turn over on your back, seeing him from below his thick jawline.

"Jesus, are you alright?" Cameron laughs, bouncing your head up and down.

"Sorry, that just came out. It won't happen again." You say, half-joking.

Cameron lowers his smile, but his eyes are filled with sincerity. He chooses a strand of your hair to pull to the ceiling, then drops it. He chooses another, slips his fingers up to the tip and it drops. He continues this until your smile fades and your eyes glaze over, zoning out on his wax-figure face. "It's rare when you do, but I actually love it when you say things like that. It's cheesy, but I like cheese." He pauses. "Especially if is coming from you."

With this, you give him puppy dog eyes and reach your head as far up as it can go, puckering your lips. Once it registers, Cameron stretches his head down to meet your lips, only to find that with all of your efforts, you can't reach each other. Silently, you both clench a little harder to fill the gap between your lips. Both of your abs quiver, having worked so hard, but your faces remain apart. Your lips are reached so far out, you probably both look like you have duck bills, but your mouths get a hairline of touch. You're like two little determined toddlers, desperate for touch. Giving up at the same time, you release a big breath.

You both laugh at the thoughts of what you both looked like.

"We're so dumb." Cameron cups his mouth, looking down at you.

Scrunching your nose in a fit of giggling, you slap your thigh. "We are dumb. I love us

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Comments or I'll sever this Teddy Bear's head. 

I have an essay to write tomorrow and 3 hours of dance kill me. 

11:56 p.m.

-Bambi ;)

Fine I won't kill the bear. Poor Lotso needs my love XD