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

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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."

What?!

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.