Chapter Text
For the record, I hate alarm clocks. They’re efficient, and necessary most days, but annoying. I roll over and turn my alarm off, begrudgingly getting up for my classes.
I wish I’d listened to the people who told me 8 am lectures were a bad idea. I just wanted to take as many classes as possible.
Yes, I’m a nerd.
Beside me, my boyfriend, who already had an arm thrown over me, as he always did, either reflexively or protectively, probably both, pulled me closer. Usually, I’m the big spoon, but I’d had a panic attack last night, and he wanted to spoon me.
“Gee,” my voice is soft and groggy, still laced with sleep, “Gee, I need to go to class.”
He hums softly.
“No.”
I bite back a smile, “Gee, come on, I have Latin III in half an hour.”
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, “Stay. You already know everything they’re teaching you.”
I laugh a little, “You overestimate me, love.”
He sighs, his face still buried in my neck, “You’re always in class.”
I twist a little, so I’m facing him, and press a kiss to his forehead, “I know. My class load this semester is a little heavy.”
He meets my eyes, holding eye contact for a moment before responding, “You don’t get enough sleep, all that homework.”
I run a hand through his hair instead of saying anything, mainly because he was right. Most of the time he had to coerce me into going to bed, as in sleeping. I always had a Latin paper due or a history assignment, or I had to finish a Greek translation.
“Your hair is getting shaggy.” I say finally, my hand still tangled in it. He’s been letting it get longer since we graduated, probably because of the (frankly, terrible) flat top he had while we were at Welton.
He nods a little, “Does it look bad?”
“No,” I reply softly, “not at all.”
He hums again, not saying anything.
I let myself stay with him, quietly, for another 10 minutes, but at that point, I really do need to get to class.
“Gee. I have to get up now.”
“No you don’t, you can stay here and lie down with me because its the only class you have today. Stay, please.”
His voice is so soft, and still laced with sleep, and he leans forward and kisses me lightly on the forehead, “What are you doing in class today anyway?”
Truthfully, we’re likely just reading more of the Aeneid, which is what we do when there isn’t anything to do, it’s a nothing day. I could skip if I wanted.
In the end, I decide to stay, not because I don’t want to go to class, but because my boyfriend asked me to and I have a hard time saying no to him when he looks at me like that.
We stay in bed until well past 11, talking about anything, tangled with each other. We’ve been so close for so long, I think all the years of not being able to touch softly like we wanted have been rushing forward since we graduated, and we can hardly keep from interlacing in any way possible. We fit so well together, the first time I kissed him, in a rush of adrenaline after graduation, that was what he said after, dazed, a little dumbfounded, and happy, I found out later. Barely above a whisper, “We fit so well together.”
It became a substitute for “I love you,” between us. We already had our own language, after so many years of being friends, that slipping that one term in happened without thinking too much about it.
“Gee?” I breathe, our noses touching, my voice barely a whisper.
He looks at me, “Sweetheart?”
“Thank you.”