Obvious cliché is obvious. OC is unnamed because I'm too lazy to think of one.


Two in the morning. Two in the fucking morning and there's someone in my kitchen, not even trying to be silent.

"Jeff," I groaned into my pillow. No response. I picked my head up and looked over to his side of the bed, which was empty. I looked around the room. "Jeff?"

Clink! Clink! CRASH!

"Shit!" I heard him exclaim from downstairs.

Aw damn. What is he up to now?

I threw the covers off my body and hissed at the cold air overtaking my body. Oh, he's so going to get it.

I walked briskly downstairs clad in only Jeff's new 'Immune to Fear' shirt (which may be why I'm so cold), and saw Jeff with a paint brush.

"Babe," I started. "It's two in the morning. Come to bed."

"I'll be up in a while," he muttered distractedly. "I'm doing something."

"It can't be that important," I rolled my eyes. "Now c'mon up to bed."

His green eyes that I usually got lost in possessed a dull look. "It's very important. Do you even know what today is?"

I rubbed my eyes and blinked tiredly. "Sunday?"

"Sunday, April what?" Jeff pressed. I'm going to strangle this motherfucker. I swear I am.

"Jeff, I don't know!" I exclaimed, which ended up hurting my head. It's too early in the morning for this.

"Sunday, April twelfth! See the importance now?"

The blank look I gave him should have been more than explanatory.

Jeff smacked his hand to his forehead lightly. He'd better be glad that I didn't do it, or else his head wouldn't have been attached to his body. "It's Easter!"

"We don't have kids, nieces, or nephews," I tried to reason with him.

"I dye eggs every year, babe," he said as he dropped color tablets into multiple plastic cups filled with water.

"At two in the morning?" I asked, exasperated. He couldn't have done this at a more acceptable hour in the morning?

He grinned at me. "No time like the present."

"I'm going back to bed," I informed him before stretching; causing the shirt that barely hit the tops of my thighs to rise, revealing a pair of lace red boyshorts.

Jeff, obviously being a meathead (I mean man), noticed and raised an eyebrow. He glanced over at the boiled eggs and back at me before smirking. "Screw the eggs. Let me paint you."

I walked over to where he was sitting and kissed the tip of his nose before shaking my head slowly. "If it were a more reasonable hour, I would consider it."

Jeff pouted. "Well fine. I'll just paint all types of designs on these eggs and come to bed, go to sleep and dream of Candice."


I shot him a glare. "That is the worst thing you could have ever said to me."

And in retaliation, I bit him his shoulder quite hard.

"Ow!" Jeff's hand flew up to his shoulder as I stormed off, stomping my way upstairs. "What the hell was that for?"

"Happy fucking Easter."


..lol. I'm sorry. I'll stop the madness sooner or later.