cvldbones

[cvldbones]

Ice Cream

Written for the @kingdonmicrofic Day 2 prompt!

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His girl is sweet as ice cream. Sticky-hot with summer, sun-blonde hair going blonder by the minute, vanilla bikini dripping off her hips, he might die if he doesn’t get a taste. 

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until a wet cannonball of a boy collides with his chest and wraps water-jeweled arms around his neck, commanding his attention. 

“Daddy,” he says, too loudly for how close he is to Frank’s ear, but four-year-olds aren’t known for their volume regulation. “I want ice cream.” 

Me too, bud. “Alright.” He takes Tanner’s hand in his, heaves himself off the deck chair, and fishes his wallet out of the pool bag. “Let’s go get a couple wildly overpriced cones, huh?”

With a joyful shout – “Yay, overp’iced!” – Tanner takes off for the concession stand lurking just outside the gates.

He shakes Mel’s shoulder and is almost surprised when she doesn’t start melting under his touch. “Hey, I’m going to grab Tanner something from concessions. You want anything?” 

She lowers her sunglasses just briefly, just long enough to give him a glance of maraschino-sweet eyes, before she pushes them back up the bridge of her nose. “No, I’m okay. You might want to ask Abby, though,” she says, with a meaningful tilt of caramel eyebrows in her direction. 

He licks his lips. “Good call.” 

Abby just scoffs at him. “I spent months on this bikini body, Frank. I’m not fucking it up right when I can show it off.” 

Not worth the fight to tell her one ice cream isn’t going to make much of a difference, so he joins his son at concessions and orders two huge cones. Tanner eats his with an enthusiasm that leaves dribbles on his chin and forearms and knees, and Frank has to forbid him from jumping back in the pool until he can wipe him down. 

He eats his own thinking of a different taste entirely. 

The kids go to bed early that night, worn out from the pool and the sun and the sugar high. Abby claims a headache and disappears into their darkened bedroom with an eye mask and strict instructions not to disturb her when he comes to bed. 

He ends up in Mel’s instead and treats himself to dessert.  

[cvldbones]

day 2 // ice cream

day 2 // ice cream for @kingdonmicrofic's august challenge with @kayleigh-rae warnings: implied emotional infidelity word count: 487

Mel looks just as he remembers her. Lovely, in that unassuming way of hers. 

It’s obvious, maybe. It’s only been two months since their first shift together, the shift that had changed his life. A lot had happened that day, and the further he got from it–especially through those weeks where he suffered through the fog and pain of withdrawal–the more things had blurred around the edges. 

So it’s startling just how clearly his memory clung to her. 

Frank shoves his hands in his jacket pocket as he approaches Millie’s Homemade. The weather is crisp, turning cold, and he likes the way the chill seems to clear out the mustiness of his soul. It’s sharp–sharp like Mel–in that vital, necessary way that most worthwhile but challenging things are. 

Mel leans against the concrete ice cream cone to the left of the shop’s steps. A few yards away from her, he stops to steady himself. He hasn’t seen anyone from work since his last shift, and Frank braces for something–disappointment, judgment, reproval. Whatever it is, it’s not this–Mel’s smile, bright like sunshine, and the little wave of her hand.

“Dr. Langdon!” 

“Mel. Hey.”

She steps forward and then thinks better of it, her fingers interlacing and flexing as if she needs to do something with the movement she halted. 

“Are you…do you hug?” she asks. 

Besides his children, no one has touched him in eight weeks. He’s starved for it. 

Frank answers by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. It’s probably too much for someone he’s only known for fifteen hours and exchanged a few letters with in rehab, but Mel’s gracious about it. She places her arms on his back and holds him. 

His throat constricts. Her hair is damp, the scent of her shampoo still heavy from a recent wash. It’s grounding, so much so that he allows himself to rest his cheek on the top of her head for a moment. When he pulls away, his eyes are damp. 

“You look…” 

Mel frowns as if she’s just realized her mistake a second too late. 

Frank laughs. “Like I just got out of rehab last week?” 

“Sorry,” Mel says, blushing. 

Frank takes her hand and lightly squeezes–all forgiven–when he notices how cold it is. Bringing her other hand into his, he rubs them between his palms to warm them up. It feels good–to touch, to provide, to look after someone. And here he is, chasing that rush again–overstepping probably–but Mel’s just biting her lip with this look in her eyes that he can’t place. 

“You sure you want ice cream?” Frank asks. “We can get coffee or whatever instead.” 

“I’m sure. I thought it was a good option, you know? You can’t have a bad time if you’re eating ice cream.” 

“I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about that.” 

Frank notices that she doesn’t pull her hands away. 

“Me either.” 

[cvldbones]

[cvldbones]

Top Kingdon moments as voted by my followers

#5: Langdon staring at Mel

[cvldbones]

@kingdonmicrofic day 1: pool | wc: 497

“Frank.” 

“Mel.” 

“You can’t make me.” 

“Melissa.” 

“No.” 

Frank absently wonders how they got this far at all. Mel had agreed to join him and the kids on a midsummer pool day on the condition she wouldn’t have to swim. She’d arrived and planted her stuff down—a book, headphones, plenty of sunscreen—and told him not to bother her. She was here for the kids, some sun, and not much else. 

Of course, he couldn’t really help himself.

He’d successfully bothered her into applying sunscreen on his back, managed to bother her into planting a towel on the pool’s edge, and was this close to bothering her into getting in.

“Melly! Swim with us!” Olivia paddles up to them, legs kicking furiously as she grins in her puffy Little Mermaid vest. “Daddy, again?” 

Frank turns with an easy smile, grabbing her from the bottom of her vest and casually flinging her across the pool, tiny body flying. She goes with an elated squeal, head bobbing under the surface for just a brief second before she comes back up, giggling. 

Mel frowns, tugging at the end of her braid. “That doesn’t seem safe.”

“She’s a pro, and I’m right here. Now, as for you,” Frank says, getting closer to the edge, his hands on either side of her. He’s tried his best not to notice her too much today, but he’s—well he’s him, and she’s Mel, and she’s wearing a firetruck-red one piece, for Christ’s sake. It’d be impossible not to notice. The hard-earned proximity makes him hungry for more of her, if only she would just get in—

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t know how.” 

“Then you hold onto me,” Frank says, casual, like this isn’t his entire goal here. “I got a lifeguard certification back in college, you know. Pretty good at mouth-to-mouth, too. Some would say I’m excellent at it.” 

Mel kicks at him, biting down a smile, and he’s pretty sure she’s blushing. Acting fast, he grabs her ankle mid-air, playfully pulling her closer. He measures her gaze, deciding just how far he can really go here, and dips her smooth legs into the water, using them to pull himself closer. She swallows, a hypnotizingly thin bead of sweat collecting just under her chin. 

“What about the kids? You can’t watch me if you’re watching them.” 

Frank sneaks a gaze over at Tanner, who is on his fifth trip to the diving board of the day, and Olivia, who is currently on her way back for another throw. “They’ve been swimming since they were newborns. There’s also a real lifeguard on duty, and we can stick to the shallow end. I’ve got you, okay? Don’t you trust me?” 

Mel winds her hands together, searching for Tanner before making eye contact with the lifeguard. She looks back at him and sighs. “You can’t let go.” 

Frank smirks, triumph filling his chest. Another win. 

“Fine by me, sweetheart. I was kinda counting on that.”

[cvldbones]

mel/frank | ∼500 words | rated m | ↳ for day two: ice cream of the august @kingdonmicrofic challenge

“I can’t believe I went out with him for three months.”

He murmurs his agreement. Truthfully, he can’t believe she went out with that fucking douchebag for even one date.

“I thought — But he was— And I tried—“

She’s not making much sense, both because she keeps not finishing her sentences and because she’s eating spoonful after spoonful of ice cream which is garbling her words. Her legs are extended over his lap as they sit on the couch, and from this close he can track the bits of ice cream that cling to the corners of her lips. He swallows harshly and reminds himself he doesn’t even love the taste of mint chocolate ice cream. 

“And the worst part, god, do you want to know what the worst part is?” 

He squeezes one of her socked feet three times in a silent response. 

“Three months we were together and he didn’t even make me come once!”

His grip on her foot has to be bordering on painful now but he can’t make himself let go. He has little control of his body at this point. Nothing is responding the way he wants it to: his hands are glued to the parts of her that they can touch, his mouth is hanging open and he suspects it’ll be visibly drooling soon. His heart is screaming at him, “Now. Now. Now.”

“All of this and I didn’t even get to—“

“I can make you come.”

Mel looks bewildered, either at his statement or his interruption. Probably both, if he had to guess.

The spoonful of ice cream she was bringing to her mouth hangs in the air dangerously, slowly melting.

“If that asshole couldn’t give you want you wanted, what you deserved, that’s on him. But I can. You’re single now. I can make you come.”

Ice cream drips from the spoon to her neck and down her chest, staining the white tank top she is wearing. She doesn’t seem to notice as some green droplets travel the valley of her breasts, mapping all the spots he desperately wants to visit. 

“Frank,” she says. His name means something else in her  “You’re still married.”

“Please, Mel.” He’s not above begging, not anymore. “Please. Can I make you come?” 

As if she needs to deliberate her answer, she brings her spoon down to the ice cream carton, then brings it back up full to her mouth. The heel of one of her feet presses down on his lap, right over his dick, making it harden even further.

She’s licking the spoon messily, ice cream rivulets dribbling down her wrist, her chin, her neck.

This, he knows, must be a sensory nightmare for her. This, her eyes tell him, she expects him to fix.  

“Please,” he begs once more, for good measure. 

(As he laps at her skin, he thinks maybe his tastes have changed over the years. Mint chocolate chip might just be his new favorite ice cream, after all.)

[cvldbones]

TIME THEFT

mel/frank for @kingdonmicrofic day 02 (ice cream) | 498 words

additional tags: outsider pov; mention of pregnancy; fluff; schrödinger’s daddy kink; establish relationship

All new employees at CRÈME HAUS in Squirrel Hill complete the same new trainee onboarding: learning the payment operating system; customer service; opening/closing procedures; food safety. The direct emphasis on branding—the aesthetically pleasing merchandise. Neon, Instagramable signs. A community cares board even though the owners—two California transplants who bought an entire neighborhood block to flip—don’t pay their employees a livable wage.

There’s also an unofficial CRÈME HAUS training:

1. Management sucks.

2. The No Cash Accepted sign on the door is a scam. They keep a small cash float locked up–just grab the key and complete the transaction. CRÈME HAUS workers used the money to redistribute back to the staff every December: “They’re never going to approve holiday bonuses, so what’s a little wage theft going to do?”

3. Always set aside two ice cream cartons on Thursdays: peach oat crisp and goat cheese, tyme & honey.

“For who?” Matty, the new hire, asks and a tonally confused air of awed fear descends over the staff.

“Dr. Langdon.”

Matty learns Dr. Langdon only comes to CRÈME HAUS on Thursdays, ten-minutes before close. Pays in cash. Tips 100%-150%. His wedding ring is tattooed on. He’s adamant that the flavors be correct and clearly labeled.

“There was one shift,” Deena gossips over the blaring Charli xcx, “where this random boomer started doing the whole ‘Wow, why does everywhere prompt you to tip now? I’m sorry, but 20% is ridiculous for scooping ice cream. My grandkids can do that and they’re still in diapers’ blah blah blah. He kept going until Dr. Langdon straight up told him to ‘shut the fuck up’. It was awesome.”

No one knows if he’s an actual doctor or not. The only supportive evidence comes from CRÈME HAUS assistant manager, Chandler, who ate an entire tray of weed brownies: “I get to Pitt Trauma straight tripping balls. Seeing rats and shit. They brought me back, and Matty, this blonde, pregnant doctor walked in. So sweet, saying everything’s going to be okay. Dude…I started imagining, y’know, our life together—me, as a stepfather. Getting a big country house. Dying together like the old couple in Titanic. Then I look up and BOOM! —there’s fuckin’ Dr. Langdon, standing over me like the Benadryl hat man.”

He wears two beaded bracelets on his wrists: one reading DAD; the other, ❤️ FRANK ❤️

Half of the staff think that he’s a legitimate father while others believe it’s a sex thing. The group text debates are heated: “if it WAS a sex thing LILIANA then wouldn’t the bracelet spell out DADDY not DAD??”; “you can’t be that intense without being a littleeee freaky;” “bro has his wedding ring TATTED. like…👀”

(Matty doesn’t have a horse in this race. All he knows is, during his first Dr. Langdon Shift, the customer’s on the phone: “Yes baby, I’m picking up the ice cream for you and Becca right now. You better be ready for me when I get home. Doctors orders.”

He seems nice.)

[cvldbones]

written for @kingdonmicrofic day two - ice cream - 300 words - ao3

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Mel had tuned out the sound of his voice about five minutes ago. She was sure that his anecdote about God-knows-who doing who-knows-what was probably interesting, but she just couldn’t focus on his words.

Sure, her eyes were fixed on his mouth, but that was only because every time he brought the cone up his tongue would dart out from between his lips to lick at the slowly melting ice cream. That quick flash of pink was hypnotising, and Mel could only thank the July sun for the heat that beat down on them.

She was completely transfixed by his movements, the way his head ducked down when a drop landed on his thumb. She imagined sucking the digit into her mouth, swirling her own tongue around it just to be sure she’d gotten every drop off. Maybe she’d keep it there, suckle on it one more time just for good measure. And if he hooked his thumb in her cheek, pulled her closer—

‘Are you okay?’ His voice was distant, and Mel had to force herself to blink to bring the world back into focus. Her breath hitched and she opened her mouth to respond when his eyes flicked down suddenly, alarm taking over his features.

‘Oh, hey, Mel—’

Suddenly, he lunged forward, too quick for Mel to realize what he had been trying to draw her attention to. His fingers curled around her wrist, firm, as he brought her hand up to his own mouth. His eyes flicked to hers before he licked a wide stripe up the side of her hand, strawberry ice cream coating his tongue from where the drip had started to snake down her arm. The trail of saliva left behind was cool on her skin.

‘That’s better,’ he grinned.

Much better, Mel thought.

[cvldbones]

snippets from a life worth living

day two: ice cream

a microfic collection, created thanks to @kingdonmicrofic

It takes several breaths to stop thinking of everything Mel does as obscene. Several breaths that Frank is getting a lot of practice in doing.

She’s wrist deep in a patient, that’s not supposed to be hot, but it is. Frank finds himself licking his lips and forcing himself to think about the logistics of what she’s doing (open cardiac massage) to bring him back to earth, to the reality that she’s not being sexy, she’s being practical.

Practical, not sexy, becomes a mantra of sorts as they go about orbiting each other in the workplace. He wants to make a mental note of every time his mind goes in that direction, just so he can bring it up for data purposes later with her, but easily becomes overwhelmed with it after watching her suture.

The ice cream truck does him in though.

(read on ao3)

[cvldbones]

@kingdonmicrofic Day 2: Ice Cream (498 words) | ao3

If Frank were a lesser man, he might have been willing to blame his son for this one. Tanner always got a little punch drunk in the aftermath of a day at the pool, like he was super-charged by the sun or something. So, when the bell of the ice cream truck rang out, his son was one of the many, many children who let out an excited cry and then promptly turned to look at his parent-on-duty with wide, imploring eyes. They seemed even bluer beneath the hood of his flamingo towel.  

And Frank was a weak man, because he capitulated to a four-year-old with very little argument, even when said four-year-old turned to his swim instructor with an excited, “And Mel can come too, right?”   

Frank glanced over at her. His sunglasses were lodged in his hair like a headband, so he fought hard not to stare at the wet spots along the too-big t-shirt she’d thrown over top of her bathing suit. He was determinedly not looking at the outline of her breasts.

“Oh,” Mel said, surprised. “I mean, if that’s – ”

“Yeah,” Frank said, pleased to find his voice came out mostly normal. “Yeah, of course.”

He finished packing their stuff, shoving the goggles and sunscreen and wet towels into the bag with harsh movements before following Mel and his children out of the pool. He held the gate open for her. His eyes dipped to the little indentations where her ass met her thighs, quick, like a reflex.

There was a small horde of children around the ice cream truck, sunburnt parents handing over wads of cash with exhausted expressions. Frank joined the line as Millie and Tanner excitedly debated which flavor to get. His son picked the gross SpongeBob one that always looked sort of radioactive, while Millie opted for one of the firecrackers which Abby would be thrilled about later when her entire face was red, white, and blue. He looked at Mel expectantly, and she hummed in thought, lip caught between her teeth.

“Just a drumstick,” she decided with a short nod. As if remembering herself, she flushed, adding, “Please.”

His grin was involuntary. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

She returned it. “Thanks, Mr. Langdon.”

He gathered the various purchases and cajoled his kids into sitting at one of the picnic tables before diving in. When he finally wrangled the plastic around the wooden sticks, he released a breath, glancing at Mel.

She licked a long stripe along the vanilla, tongue dashing to the corner of her mouth when a little dribbled out the side. He swallowed heavily as he watched her, and when she noticed, she held the cone out in his direction.

“Do you want to try it?” she offered.

He hummed. He didn’t drop her gaze as his tongue traced the path hers had left.

“Mm,” he said, slowly licking his lips to chase the taste. She was bright pink, and he tracked the flush with surgical precision. “Perfect.”

[cvldbones]

@kingdonmicrofic august 2nd, ice cream (word count: 470)

[cvldbones]

Rivers and roads is absolutely fantastic and I cannot stop thinking about it.

😭 thank you so much anon!!!

[cvldbones]

prompt one "pool" for @kingdonmicrofic ☀️ ft. lifeguard!mel and divorced dad!frank. cw: increased age gap | 500 (ish) words

when it came down to it, frank thought he’d handled the post-divorce life crisis pretty well. in lieu of a sports car he’d bought a 2014 honda civic, pre-dented; the tv in his bachelor pad was modestly sized and mounted at eye level; and he’d only spent one night down a rabbit hole of oldest tour de france winners before he decided that lycra probably wasn’t the look for him.

he was failing miserably on the “don’t ogle women that are inappropriately young for you” front, though.

the problem was that his new apartment complex had a pool. and that pool had a lifeguard—a lifeguard who was young, and pretty, and good with his kids, and because the universe was really rooting for him to become the worst kind of stereotype, mel was a third year student at pitt med who’d lit up when he let slip that he was a doctor, quizzing him about emergency medicine and wringing out promises that he’d help her work through flashcards during her breaks.

which was why he was there on his day off: because mel had looked up at him with pleading eyes and bitten her bottom lip and he’d folded like the shitty camping chair he sat on, his back too fucked to contemplate a sunlounger. he caught her eye from her perch atop the guard chair and she beamed down at him, mouthed two minutes! and then snapped her head to the left, blew into her whistle at an ear-splitting volume and shouted at a cowed middle-schooler to walk!

the authority in her voice probably shouldn’t have sent a pulse of arousal straight to his dick, but frank had surrendered to lechering; sunscreen congealed in his palm as he tracked the set of mel’s jaw while she scanned the pool, eyes dark behind transition lenses. he was too young for baywatch, but he was pretty sure c.j. parker’s slow-mo run had nothing on mel in her visor and prescription sunglasses, a thick smear of sunblock across the bridge of her nose.

her honey-blonde plaits were damp at the ends, water sheering out her shirt where it was stuck to her skin: frank tried not to stare at the droplet tracing its way down her neck as she clambered down from the guard chair and failed miserably, mouth dry.

“dr langdon, guess what!” she bounced over, flushed from the sun; light caught in the flyaways at her temple and haloed her in gold. “i found out my first rotation—”

he knew what was coming before she said the words; the same way he knew the severity of a trauma from the cadence of dana’s breath, could judge a patient’s chances in the first thirty seconds.

“—and it’s in the e.d. at the pitt! we’ll be working together, isn’t that amazing?”

the thought of days spent with mel and her chlorine-sweet scent had his hand spasming, fist clenched—sunscreen erupted between his fingers and splattered across his chest, across mel’s sunglasses, painting streaks of white across her skin.

“yeah, sweetheart. that’s really great.”

he was almost definitely going to hell.

[cvldbones]

Mammals, melfrank, 18k, omegaverse (so, explicit, natch)

"She - you sent her home alone?" he asked, hearing his voice come out weird and small, like it belonged to someone else. "Did someone stay with her, at least? Did you give her some sleeping pills or something? I mean, Jesus." He heard her take another breath. "She said she had someone she could call." "Oh God," Frank said, leaning over and slamming his head against the dashboard.

note: the three letter abbreviation for this trope is a slur (yes even with the slashes), pls use "omegaverse"!

[cvldbones]

for @kingdonmicrofic day 1 — POOL

(250 words)

The place Frank was renting, fondly called “the divorce cave" by Becca, had a pool. It was an unexpected perk of the whole separation, Frank had said. And it was open to the King sisters anytime. He'd invited Mel and Becca over for a little housewarming the week after he'd moved in. Stealing a moment, just the two of them, they'd clinked beer bottles under the overgrown tree. “To friends," Frank had said. Friends, Mel echoed.

Now, standing next to the water in the bikini she'd bought just for him, that couldn't seem like more of a lie.

She crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe this was a bad idea—

Frank came out of the back door, holding a plate of hot dogs for the grill. “Remind me, is it ketchup or mustard Bec doesn't—"

He stopped short when he saw her.

Mel felt undone by his very presence. This is why you're doing this, she reminded herself. She uncrossed her arms and lowered them to her sides, feeling goosebumps as the cold air hit her body.

That was the finishing blow. As the platter dropped from Frank's hands, hot dogs bounced to the ground. Like they were in the Pitt, Mel jumped into action to help him pick them up. Frank’s eyes were fixated on her, his fingers comically fumbling and missing sausage links. Neither of them were actually making much progress.

“Too much?" Mel whispered. They were inches apart.

“Not enough," he replied without missing a beat.

[cvldbones]

day one: pool

@kingdonmicrofic | wc: 495

“Is that a fucking belly button piercing, Melatonin?!” Trinity shrieks, sitting up from the pool lounger so she can examine Mel’s stomach.

Frank turns his gaze away from watching his kids playing in the pool, and turns towards the direction of Trinity and Samira’s ooohs and aaahs, where Mel is continuing to strip off her pants to reveal her bikini and… miles of skin that Frank has never seen before.

He swallows, adjusting his swim shorts, glancing to where Abby is standing to confirm she isn’t paying attention to what—who—he is looking at. She’s still deep in conversation with Dana, with a beer bottle in hand. Frank’s empty-handed, besides the obvious of him trying to cover up his growing erection.

He thanks whoever invented sunglasses, so at least nobody else will notice how much he is staring at Mel’s body. He’s never seen her out of their work uniform before, so seeing her out of nearly all clothing is sending too much of his blood to his groin. Maybe that explains why he is not thinking, shamelessly staring at his coworker, his best friend, in a setting that involves his supervisors, coworkers, and his wife and kids.

The piercing is a fucking purple heart. He might as well jump into the pool now to cool himself off from how heated his body is.

Frank doesn’t even have time to process that Mel has a heart belly button piercing, freckles all over her shoulders, the side of her neck, and holy shit, is that a freckle on her thigh? before she turns around and shows off a—

“Oh, I also have a lower back tattoo!” Mel says excitedly, pointing towards the small butterfly on her lower back.

He wonders if there is an appropriate way to ask his children to grab a bucket of water from the pool and throw it on him without being too suspicious.

“You have a TRAMP STAMP?!” Trinity has her hand over her mouth, while Samira goes to have a closer look at the butterfly tattoo.

“Don’t call it that, Trinity,” Samira chastises Trinity. “Wow, it’s so pretty, Mel! I never thought you would have a lower back tattoo.”

“Or a belly button piercing,” Trinity adds.

Mel flushes. Holy fuck. She flushes all over. “I got them both after a breakup, which I wouldn’t recommend; it was tough for both to heal since I got them on the same day. So I was sad and couldn’t sleep on my back or my stomach.” She winces, caught up in the memory.

Who was it? Frank wants to know. He should kill that guy.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Mel asks, looking around them. Samira and Trinity point to their left.

Frank watches her walk away, looking at her from the corners of his eyes behind his shades. He doesn’t notice that Trinity moves over next to him until she finally speaks. He nearly jumps.

“You do know that we can see your eyes, right?”

[cvldbones]

happy friday!! no angst just fluff 🩵 what do you think the perfect lazy sunday looks like for mel/frank (SFW or NSFW)?

hi tay, happy friday!!

hospital work has made them early risers, even on their slow days. seven a.m. feels like sleeping in to them. they like it, though, because the rest of their family - the kids when frank has them, becca when she's home - can barely crack their eyes open before ten, so they get several uninterrupted hours for just the two of them.

frank gets up with the dog and lets her out while mel makes them both cups of coffee. she sits on the counter and swings her legs as he cooks them both breakfast, and she admires the side of his face where she can still see indents from his pillow, the hilariously disheveled tufts of hair poking all over his head from her hands and his restless tossing and turning. (he's never been a great sleeper, he explained, but it's been worse since he kicked the benzos. more fitful.)

when their food is ready, they eat it on their couch with blankets tucked around them and some show they've seen a hundred times playing lowly on the tv. they plan their day - the park? the zoo? oh, we need to go to the pet store, benny's out of food - and they leave the dishes on the coffee table to deal with later. her legs are in his lap and his fingers are tracing up her bare calves and it's so quiet, she thinks, just the two of them and the birds outside and the quiet hum of becca's white noise machine.

(if it's really just the two of them, the sex is lazier on those days, too. slow. unhurried. there's more laughing, more teasing, soft hums and gentle touches. they'll linger in the sheets for longer until everything's dry and sticky, until they peel themselves out of bed and into the warmth of the shower. and then it's the couch, again. she's cradled against his chest and he's twirling a lock of wet hair around his finger as he orders a pizza for delivery. no olives, she reminds him. duh, he says.)