On My Way Home (Scömìche)

21~ Morning

The duration of sleep didn't last long because soon I am awakened by Beyoncé blaring on my bedside table. I open my eyes and groan as my phone rings. Why? My conscience whines. I am not tired but the longer I can lay here with Scott, the better. I wipe my eyes and reach over to my phone with my free hand. I answer it and press it to my ear as Scott squirms against my body. I look over at him. "Hello?" I yawn, in a low voice. He continues to sleep. "Hi Mitchy!" Kirstie exclaims. "No, no, no it's way to early for that," I groan. She laughs on the other end. "Its Ten Twenty," She says. I look at the clock. Oh. "So what are you planning on doing today?" She asks. I look to Scott again and then shrug. "I don't really know yet. Scott is still sleeping," I whisper. He still has his arm around my waist. "Oh okay. Well I was wondering if you wanted to come over to have dinner later?" She asks. I run the fingertips of my free hand across the top of Scott's hand. "That sounds great," I say through a yawn. She laughs. "Okay. Come around Seven." She says. "Okay. Bye Kirst," I say, hanging up. I set my phone on the bedside table slowly so it can remain quiet. I slide back down into a laying position, trying not to wake Scott. He deserves to get sleep. I lay my back against his chest and take his hand into mine. "Good Morning," A soft voice whispers. I jump slightly and begin to turn to face Scott. He releases my hand as I turn. We now lay only a few centimeters apart facing each other. I look at him and his eyes. "I'm sorry. I-" I begin to explain but he puts a finger to my lips, effectively hushing me. "That was the best sleep I ever had in-" He pauses. "Twenty Eight years," He whispers after he finished his calculations, removing his finger. "Whatever you did, it worked." He says with a smile. The best sleep he had ever had, after all of the nightmares and anxiety and waking up before the sun, was because of me. He continues to stare at me. "Kirstie invited us over to dinner tonight," I say, trying to change the subject. "Okay. I'm going to go shower," He says, sitting up. No don't leave, my conscience whispers. He gets off of the bed and walks toward the bathroom.

Today he showers a lot faster than he usually does because, when he exits the bathroom, I'm still brewing coffee. He is fully dressed but his hair remains wet. He walks over to the counter and leans over it watching me walk around the kitchen. "Mitchy a barista now?" He teases. "You wish," I respond with a laugh. He smiles. "Actually I prefer you the way you are. The natural barista in you is just a bonus," He says, chuckling. I take the towel I was holding and toss it at him but he catches it with ease and whips it back at me. I scream and run out of the kitchen. He laughs and runs after me. I run into my bedroom and he tackles me onto the bed. My legs hang off the side and my arms are pinned above my head. I cannot stop laughing no matter how hard I try to pretend I am angry. He stands over me and leans in close. He heart begins to pound against my ribs. "A large frap would be great," He whispers and then plants a quick kiss on the tip of my nose, climbing off of me. I laugh, the blush on my cheeks ablaze. I reach up and mess with his soft wet hair leaving it in a crazy, messy, fashion. He laughs and walks out of the room.

Once I am dressed and we have had a late breakfast we sit on the couch and watch reruns of old television shows until it is time to leave to Kirstie's house.

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A/N: As promised, an upload on a Monday. It's a little short but there is more to come. Please leave any comments, reviews, or suggestions. Thanks for Reading :)