He always enjoyed watching her get up in the mornings, it never failed to amuse him.

The way she would get entangled in the blankets and moan softly, not keen on the idea of leaving her warm sanctuary beneath the sheets, and tumble out of bed nearly always made a laugh escape his lips. He especially enjoyed it when she would stand up and stretch as far as possible, her long, graceful limbs drawn out like a lazy cat. Sometimes, if she was in the mood for it, he'd snatch her up and shower with her, wanting to see more of her lean skin.

He'd obediently follow her into the kitchen and watch her trip over whatever furniture might have the misfortune of standing in her way. She'd whine and pout, waiting for him to scoop her up in his arms and kiss it all better.

He'd place her on a stool in the kitchen then open random cupboards, searching for ingredients that would make an edible breakfast. Usually, she'd try eating it, reluctant to complain about his terrible cooking, then throw it away using the excuse, "I think the milk went bad already." and make a new meal.

It wouldn't take long before she would begin to doze off again, her black, silken hair threatening to trickle into her oatmeal or cereal. He would sigh and gather her up into his arms once again to bring her back into the bedroom, carefully placing her onto the king-sized mattress and tucking her in, following suit seconds later.

She would always wake up first, her soft kisses across his face drawing him further and further away from his slumber until he found himself responding back. He'd place his face against her neck and murmur, "Good morning, Sunshine."

"It's afternoon, silly."