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The soft light of early morning sun filters through your blinds. Dust motes dance through the air, catching the light. The quiet gurgle of the caf machine fills the room.
You watch from the doorway as Wolffe moves around your kitchen with a familiarity that makes a riot of emotions flutter through you. He’s contemplating your mug selection when you push away from the door frame, crossing the room to wrap your arms around him.
You press your face against the muscles of his back, feeling them shift under his skin as he chuckles.
“Good morning to you too, sweetheart,” he rumbles in greeting.
You smile into his shirt, pressing a quick kiss to his spine before lifting your head. You prop your chin against him, grinning widely when he glances at you over his shoulder. His eyebrow is raised, and something like fond exasperation dances across his face.
“Good morning, handsome,” you reply, delight and mischief spreading through you as Wolffe rolls his eyes in mock-aggravation.
“You gonna let me make your caf, or are you just gonna cling to me like some kind of leech,” he grumbles, turning away to hide the grin on his face.
You see it anyways, shaking your head at his grumpy antics.
“You’re so mean to me. I’m a cute leech,” you pout.
You hear a grumbled ‘pain in my ass either way’ and stamp your foot in offense, letting go of Wolffe to cross your arms over your chest with a huff.
“That’s cute pain your ass, Mr. Grumpy.”
Wolffe turns slowly, eyebrow cocked and expression incredulous.
“Did you just call me - Mr. Grumpy?”
You saunter over to him, planting yourself in front of him with a defiant look on your face.
“I did. Is that a problem?” You tilt your head, keeping your expression innocent while you watch a flurry of emotions fly across Wolffe’s face. Surprise. Fondness. Exasperation. Adoration.
He leans forward, stepping into your space, mouth hovering just above your lips. His lids are lowered, eyes shadowed by dark lashes and contemplation.
“Got a lot of attitude this morning, sweetheart.”
You step closer, lips just barely brushing against his.
“Is that so?” you mumble, stomach flipping with anticipation as he hums in response.
“Maybe you should do something about it,” you whisper before blowing a puff of air across his lips.
All you hear as you turn and sprint out of the room is an indignant ‘Hey!’ and the sound of your own laughter.