Honey Drip // Danny Wagner

Part II // Chapter VII

Looks like we made it...I really enjoyed writing this chapter, after I finally broke the writer's block. I hope you enjoy ~

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"I love that I get a whole week of you," I said, half-asleep and groggy. I wasn't sure what had stirred me out of my sleep–maybe the cool sunrise, maybe Danny's impossibly warm and heavy form against my back–but I was very aware of the body next to mine and how we could, if we really wanted to, not leave the bed for a whole week.

I wasn't actually sure if he was awake, but then he groaned and sighed against the back of my neck. He tightened his hold around my waist and I realized how sweaty I was, my hair matted to the back of my neck and my t-shirt clinging to my skin underneath his forearm. I attempted to wiggle away, at least to free myself of his arm, but he tightened even more.

"Nope," he said, hooking his leg around mine. "You wanted the whole week with me. You got it."

I sighed and gave in, petting his forearm with my fingertips. "Alright, you win. But I was going to get up and make breakfast."

There was a deep inhale before a murmured, "What time is it?"

"I don't know, I can't reach my phone."

He held me against him still, but he groaned a little and I felt him–and myself–move backwards a bit, him apparently maneuvering himself to stretch and reach behind himself for his phone. "8:07," he announced, voice clearer without his mouth caught in my hair.

"Not bad. What do you want?"

"Mm–anything."

"What about Toaster Strudel?"

Danny squeezed me. "You have that?" he asked, sudden excitement laced through his tone, even starting to shift himself up a bit on his elbow.

"I do have that," I told him, reaching down in an attempt to shove his leg back. "Let me get up and I'll make it."

His grasp tightened even more, a sudden hold of strength keeping me pinned. "Five more minutes."

So it went–not five but maybe twelve more minutes of being clamped together, and we both got up. Danny was slower to start, rubbing his eyes as he moved to a sitting position, sitting there sleepy-eyed before finally getting his feet on the floor.

The shower ran; I started the coffee and the Toaster Strudel, listening to the sound of the water rushing and hitting the tile, its sharp shifts as Danny moved within it. It was funny to think there was a time when I didn't want to live with him when, as I saved the warmed packets of icing because I knew Danny liked to frost them himself, at that moment I wanted that so much. To share everything, to live as one.

"I hope you don't mind that I used some of that lychee body wash," Danny said from behind me. Turning around, I saw the mess of wet curls, him still gently wringing them out with a towel at his shoulder, and flushed, bare chest. "It looked fancy."

"It's not," I told him, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. "And you know you can always use anything of mine." I caught a whiff of the same body wash though and abandoned the mugs, moving in close to him; I took the damp towel and brought a thick strand of hair up to my nose. "Why does that shampoo smell so much better in your hair?"

He grinned. "Because I used the deep conditioner too."

I let his hair go. "Ah, of course. Sam's taught you well."

Danny scoffed, following me to the counter; he took the little packets of icing I offered him and tore the first one open, squeezing it messily over one pastry, repeating with the second. He sucked the remaining icing from the plastic: "Want me to do yours?"