The sudden lack of warmth in my arms nudges me out of the pleasant dreams I'd
been having. I mumble a complaint and try to bring the warmth back, but I only
encounter empty space. Slitting one eye open, my sleep-drugged brain finally wakes up
enough to recognize what my arms already know. Vin has left the bed. Which meant it
was morning, and I'd have to get up pretty soon myself. But not yet, since the alarm
hasn't begun its ungodly yowling.
Normally when I wake up before the alarm, I'd just curl myself around Vin's pillow,
burying my nose in the faint heat and scent he's left behind, and doze for the extra half-
hour that's left before my day officially begins. This morning, though I still clutch the
pillow to my face and breathe in deeply, I decide to stay awake and watch the man I love
more than anything in the world get ready to face that world one more time. I make sure
he is unaware that I am doing so. As he almost always is up before me, it isn't often I get
to see Vin like this, totally unselfconscious in his actions, totally unaware of how
beautiful he is all rumpled from sleep. I intend to enjoy the spectacle.
I'm not sure if Vin realizes his beauty at all. Oh, he knows his appeal to both sexes
enough to use it against our opponents when necessary, but when it comes to more
personal relationships, I just don't think he understands. I've told him over and over how
gorgeous I think he is, but he only smiles wistfully and tells me love is blind. I tell him
that my vision is perfect. His face always goes soft and sweet when I say that, then he'll
give me a kiss and change the subject or distract me in that wonderful way he has.
Lately, I have found myself wondering if maybe he understands only too well how
beautiful he is and has been hurt by that fact in the past. I shall have to endeavor to pay
more attention to his reactions to such declarations from now on.
The flush of the toilet ends the woolgathering and brings me back to my Vin-
watching. The light is on in the bathroom and he's left the door open, so I have an
unobstructed view of him standing at the sink. I watch as he brushes his teeth then shake
my head as he sets down the toothbrush and picks up his razor. Catching Vin with
morning stubble when we're not out on an all-night stakeout or on an innumerable
camping trip is almost as rare as catching me willingly awake before noon. It's a rather
nice gesture on his part, though, since that leaves the sink free for me once I finally
emerge from the blankets. That is, however, Vin Tanner in the proverbial nutshell.
Thoughtful to the very end.
After he's done shaving, he walks back into the bedroom, deftly avoiding the
clothing he's left scattered across the floor, and damn if he isn't a fine sight. When I first
gave him the black silk pajamas, he was reluctant to wear them, stating that he was more
used to flannel. It didn't, however, take him too long to see the possibilities when one is
wearing silk. I've made the poor man squirm many a time before finally removing those
pants, and he's made use of the material on me in several inventive ways himself. Just
thinking about it makes it the room a bit warmer. Watching Vin move about in those
pajamas increases my temperature further. They slide teasingly over the muscles in his
legs and caress the outline of his delicious backside with every step he takes. The
material actually reveals more than it hides, and knowing what it does cover up . . .
Squirm. Shift. A-hem. Anyway, he's made his way to the chest of drawers and is
digging through them for some appropriate clothing for the day. Not that it'll take much
time to do so, seeing as how most of his wardrobe is jeans and t-shirts. I understand how
such attire could be considered comfortable, but sometimes appearances *do* actually
matter. I learned early, however, not to critique his clothing choices. For some reason,
he gets even more defensive about the plain outfits he chooses to wear than I do when
someone insults my suits. Another mystery I have yet to unravel, but I am determined
that I shall indeed do just that some day.
He disappears back into the bathroom with his clothes, but I know he's not going to
get into the shower. Not without me, anyway. It is one of the constants in our crazy,
crime-fighting existence, a habit we easily fell into right from the beginning. When Vin
sets the alarm, he always makes sure that it's early enough for us to have time to share a
shower. We might not always have time to do all the things we want to do while we're
there, but just starting my day by having him all to myself like that is enough most of the
time. My days are hell when we're separated and we can't do this, and I feel genuinely
sorry for the first unlucky persons who cross my path on those mornings.
This morning, however, is not one of those mornings, and he's coming out of the
bathroom right now to get me up. I quickly close my eyes and pretend I'm still sleeping
while I wait for my favorite part of this whole waking up deal. More favorite than even
the shower part, if one can believe that. I feel the dip in the bed as he sits down beside
me then the heat of his body as he leans over me to slap at the alarm that just begins its
annoying buzz. In the quiet that follows, the only sound I can hear is his breathing, so
close it even overshadows the sudden pounding of blood in my ears.
His lips touch mine in a gentle, sweet kiss that I can't help but respond to. I open my
eyes and stare into the beautiful blue pair mere inches from my face. He pulls back just a
bit, and I know he's smiling even if he is too close for me to actually see his lips because
his eyes are burning with a happy glow. I feel my mouth curve into an answering smile
and hold my breath. Here it comes. Wait for it . . . wait for it . . .
"Love ya, Ez," he murmurs, his voice low and rough yet from sleep.
My smile widens, and I tilt my head forward to lightly bump noses with him. "And I
love you back, Vin."
Today is going to be a truly wonderful day.
The End
Continues in Singin' in the Rain
