I woke up slowly, still in Brian's arms. He, however, was awake. The other boys were sitting on the floor, playing cards.
"Good morning, love," Brian whispered. I hummed in acknowledgement and he kissed my cheek.
"Ah, she's finally up," Freddie teased. "Sleep well?"
"Very," I said. "I tend to feel well rested when I sleep in this house. Even when I'm on the couch."
"The boys will be leaving after breakfast, if you want to go eat," Brian said, sitting up. I followed him, still in just my undergarments.
"I'd love that," I said, stretching my arms. "I dreamt about Pixie."
"Did you, now?" Brian asked. "Love her almost as much as you."
"Who's Pixie?" Roger asked. A loud meow rang through the room and a black cat wandered in, scampering over to the bed and jumping into my lap, frightened of the hardly-familiar other intruders in her home.
"Her," Brian said, watching as she laid down. "Have I never mentioned her?"
"No, you haven't," Freddie said. "But I love her already."
"She's a bit shy around people," I said, scratching her ears. I looked down at her and petted her back. "Aw, you baby!"
"Come here, you menace," Brian joked, taking Pixie from me. "We've got to get up, you can't keep us on the bed."
Brian stood up and walked to the door, setting Pixie on the ground gently. He turned to look at everyone else and the boys put down their cards. I sighed heavily before standing up. I walked over to Brian's dresser and grabbed one of his oversized shirts that he loved to wear half-buttoned.
"What's for breakfast?" Roger asked as everyone shuffled out of the room, down the hall, down the stairs, and into the dining room. Brian walked into the kitchen and came back with a box of cheerios. He threw it at Roger. "Hey!"
"And what's for breakfast for me?" I asked.
"Waffles for the love of my life, shitty stale cereal for the band," he said casually, disappearing into the kitchen again. I looked at the boys, who were all trying to jam their hands into the cereal box at once to eat dry cereal handfuls at a time. I sighed.
"Well, how soon are you making the idiots leave?" I asked.
"Weer nod idiods!" Roger protested, still munching.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Brian scolded from the kitchen. "I'm kicking them out in five minutes, love."
"Thanks, boy," I said, taking a seat at the table just as Freddie jerked the box away from Roger. It ripped and cheerios spilled onto the floor. I sighed.
"What did they do?" Brian asked exasperatedly.
"Spilled the cheerios," I replied.
"Get out of my house," he said from the kitchen. "You're getting breakfast somewhere else, guys."
"Aw, what?" Roger whined.
"Get out," Brian said again. The toaster dinged. "Y/n, waffles."
"Thank you, Bri," I said. He walked out of the kitchen holding two plates of waffles. He glared at his band mates as he handed me one.
"I told you to get out, didn't I?" He asked.
"Jesus Christ, Brian, I'm just putting on my jacket," Roger huffed. I started shoveling the waffles into my mouth and Roger stared at me. "Fucking hell, she eats like she's some sort of gremlin."
"Well, she's my gremlin, get out of my fucking house," Brian said. John raised his hands in innocence, winked at me, then walked over to the door and opened it. He was followed out by Roger and Freddie. Brian closed the door and looked at his plate. "You know, I'm not even really hungry."
"Then why'd you make yourself breakfast?" I asked. He sighed and shrugged.
"I don't know," he said honestly. He looked up at me and smiled gently. "God, you're beautiful."
"And you're quite attractive, yourself," I said. "What with your classic toothy grin and expressive eyes."
"You're never going to shut up about my smile, are you?" He asked, smiling. I shook my head.
"Never," I confirmed. Brian rolled his eyes and walked up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "It's just too beautiful."
"You're so little," he said.
"No, you're just abnormally tall, what with your long, lanky, out-of-proportion legs," I said.
"My legs aren't out of proportion!" He defended, letting go of me.
"If you bent in half, your legs would be longer than the rest of you!" I said. "I didn't mention it yesterday, I don't think, but your hair..."
"It's a big mess, I know," he said, sighing. "Try as I might, it's a wild fucking mane."
"Actually, I was going to say it looks good," I said. "I feel like it makes high school photos of you look stupid."
"You think it looks good?" He repeated. I nodded and reached up, running my fingers through his curls.
"Yeah," I said quietly, almost mesmerized. "God, it's so soft, too."
"That would be the entire bottle of conditioner a day," he joked. I tugged his hair lightly. "Watch it!"
"Aw, self-conscious about the curls, now?" I teased. He pouted. "The long curls suit you. Kind of soft, kind of hot, kind of badass, kind of sweet. Like you."
"You think I'm badass?" He asked skeptically.
"Well... Rarely, but sometimes, yeah," I said. "Other times, you point at the sky and say 'oh, look, it's ursa minor!' And then I have to listen to you babble about the stars for another three hours-"
"While we lay on the roof and you're impossibly close to me because it's cold outside?" Brian finished. "And when we finally get inside, you insist on hot chocolate and you fall asleep on my shoulder on the couch with an empty mug and I can't do anything but close my eyes or I'll wake you up?"
"Yeah, that," I mumbled. I ran my fingers through his curls one last time before retracting my hand. "Jeez, Brian. What do you even do with yourself?"
"Cry over not seeing my best friend in a very long time," he responded. I crossed my arms over my chest.
"Really, now."
"I wrote a song about you, actually."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah."
"Let's hear it."
"Just let me get my guitar."
