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perfectworrytitle: Morning
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writerverse
prompt: Phase #08: Challenge #02: Monthly/Mini Table ("'ll wake you up when this is over.")
word count: 563
rating: PG
pairing: Aya/Mariel/Tristan
summary: Tristan, Mariel, and Aya share a bed, but Mariel is an early riser and the other two like to sleep in. It gets a little awkward, especially when they're still on a last name basis.
Grumbling sleepily about the light shining in through Aya's gauzy curtains, Tristan rolled over closer to his wife. He buried his face in her hair. She burrowed a little further under the blankets and pulled his arm around her waist. Tristan gave a sigh of contentment. Her hair smelled of peppermint. It reminded him of Christmas.
It did not remind him of his wife.
Blinking his eyes open in the morning sunlight, Tristan discovered that the hair he had nuzzled against so affectionately was not his wife's autumn red, but her girlfriend's curly dark hair, mussed from sleep. Confused and groggy, he levered himself upright, but Aya's side of the bed was empty. Aya herself had rolled into Mariel's usual place between them.
Tristan extracted himself from his embrace with Aya, and though he tried not to wake her, she rolled over, squinting at him in sleepy confusion.
"Good morning, Miss Scarlett," he said, unsure what manners dictated at this juncture. He woke to find himself cuddled up against his wife's girlfriend, his face buried in her hair and breathing in the Christmasy sent of her shampoo. Although they shared a bed, usually Mariel slept between them.
"G'morning." Aya yawned. "I think after that, Mr. Delacroix, we should consider ourselves on a first name basis, if you're agreeable?"
"I would like that very much, Aya," said Tristan. He smiled, but continued to ease his way out of the bed. Aya frowned up at him. "I'm going to find our errant wife," he explained.
"Girlfriend," corrected Aya.
"My errant wife, your errant girlfriend," amended Tristan, and he had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Go back to sleep, Miss - Aya. It's still early."
Then, because it seemed the appropriate thing to do, he leaned over and placed an apologetic kiss on Aya's forehead for waking her up and then leaving her alone under the blankets in the chill of an autumn morning.
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:
writerverse prompt: Phase #08: Challenge #02: Monthly/Mini Table ("'ll wake you up when this is over.")
word count: 563
rating: PG
pairing: Aya/Mariel/Tristan
summary: Tristan, Mariel, and Aya share a bed, but Mariel is an early riser and the other two like to sleep in. It gets a little awkward, especially when they're still on a last name basis.
Grumbling sleepily about the light shining in through Aya's gauzy curtains, Tristan rolled over closer to his wife. He buried his face in her hair. She burrowed a little further under the blankets and pulled his arm around her waist. Tristan gave a sigh of contentment. Her hair smelled of peppermint. It reminded him of Christmas.
It did not remind him of his wife.
Blinking his eyes open in the morning sunlight, Tristan discovered that the hair he had nuzzled against so affectionately was not his wife's autumn red, but her girlfriend's curly dark hair, mussed from sleep. Confused and groggy, he levered himself upright, but Aya's side of the bed was empty. Aya herself had rolled into Mariel's usual place between them.
Tristan extracted himself from his embrace with Aya, and though he tried not to wake her, she rolled over, squinting at him in sleepy confusion.
"Good morning, Miss Scarlett," he said, unsure what manners dictated at this juncture. He woke to find himself cuddled up against his wife's girlfriend, his face buried in her hair and breathing in the Christmasy sent of her shampoo. Although they shared a bed, usually Mariel slept between them.
"G'morning." Aya yawned. "I think after that, Mr. Delacroix, we should consider ourselves on a first name basis, if you're agreeable?"
"I would like that very much, Aya," said Tristan. He smiled, but continued to ease his way out of the bed. Aya frowned up at him. "I'm going to find our errant wife," he explained.
"Girlfriend," corrected Aya.
"My errant wife, your errant girlfriend," amended Tristan, and he had to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Go back to sleep, Miss - Aya. It's still early."
Then, because it seemed the appropriate thing to do, he leaned over and placed an apologetic kiss on Aya's forehead for waking her up and then leaving her alone under the blankets in the chill of an autumn morning.
