killer, gbd (EDITING)

10

The morning comes with ease, no alarm, no music, just peaceful silence.

It comes as no surprise that Grayson had gotten up before me, but his absence pulls me from sleep quicker then I had wished. From the bathroom, I hear his voice speaking softly.

My eyes squint at the open curtains, the light pouring right into the room from the east side. Turning to the other side, my eyes catch the time, a quarter to noon.

With that realization, I sit up and rub my head, I expected to be up far before now, but feel refreshed nonetheless.

Grayson comes into the room quietly, his phone still in his hand. "I order us brunch," He smiles, pleased with himself.

He crawls back into bed, and I take that as a sign to also lay back down. "Great," I hug a throw pillow to my chest.

Sitting up in his spot, he turns the tv back on, but keeps the volume low. "So the mission tonight," He starts.

"I haven't put much thought into it, it shouldn't be a big deal." I shrug, he watches my face with narrowed eyes. But after a moment, he nods in agreement.

"Yeah, still be careful though," I smile at him, expecting a laugh, but his face is straight.

"I always am," I pat his hand once before getting up and ducking into the bathroom.

*****

My worries about being short on supplies dissipate when I open the bathroom cabinet and find an array of beauty supplies. Sticking to a make up bag is a small note. I pick up the bag and tear off the paper, opening it.

"Figured this would make up for our first encounter, enjoy dear -Duke" My brows raise, though this does not earn my forgiveness, it was a nice gesture. I look through the bag, everything I would need for a full face lays in front of me. But I cringe at the thought of having to take it off later tonight.

I dig out only the basics for eyes and lips, and search further for hair styling products. Having both a straightener and curler to my dispense, I opt for the curler.

Grayson knocks at the door as I wait for the curler to heat up. "You can come in," I say, craning to look at the door.

He comes in and stands in front of the mirror, his arms flushed against mine. "I need to do my hair too," He tells me, placing a styling gel down on the counter top. I nod, grinning up at him.

There is silence between us, but the concentration we put into separate tasks keep it from being tense or awkward. When I am done curling, I cover my hair in a thin layer of hair spray, the run my fingers through the curls to break them up.

"Do you need some?" I shake the spray can for him and hold it up to his hair.

Grayson shrugs, smiling. "I mean I put gel in it, but if you're dying to, go ahead." He leans down so that I have access to his whole head. To be polite, I cup my hand over his forehead before spraying. "Thanks, Kitten." He laughs, giving my arm a pat.

"I'm going to get dressed," I tell him, putting away the hair spray. Even after my comment, Grayson remains leaned up against the counter, a smirk on his lips. When I realize what he is doing, I push his arm and laugh. "Get out of here." He rolls his eyes, but his large smile never leaves his lips.