Chapter Text
“Violet, can we get a cat?” Charlie suddenly asks, lying on the other side of the bed.
The morning has yet to actually dawn on Violet. There are gold rays streaking through the pale curtains, and little dusts sprinkling through the air, but her gold hair hasn't moved an inch. He stares at her tiredly across the bed.
“Violet,” he coos. She shuffles a little beneath the thick white covers and her hair flips slightly. He smiles.
“Violet.” He pokes her side softly, moving his fingers underneath the duvet. “Can we?”
“I will shove my fist up your—if you poke me one more time, Charlie,” she mumbles softly, before moving and scooting to the corner. Her hands are still wrapped around the sheets tightly in the light of the day, when he laughs to himself cheekily at the mere notion of her annoyance. She's adorably grumpy in the morning.
Charlie's messy hair glows against the gold light beaming out the curtain. He squints trying to tilt his eyes toward the window, but still relishes in the feeling of the morning. Violet, on the other hand, is very different, and groans just looking at the sun. It's mostly because she “values” her sleep, and takes as much of it as she can to use as energy for her daily tournament practices and things like that. He doesn't understand how she leaves at ten and comes back at eleven, but he figures it's the sleep or something. It's mostly why he's very energetic throughout the day. She's conditioned him, if he can use that word?
“Violet,” he softly says, grabbing her in his arms, “can we get a cat?”
“No,” she groans, pretending that she isn't pushing herself against him, “I hate cats, you know that. And I don't have time to take care of one in between tournaments, championships, and gymnastic practices on the weekend, I already juggle you, and you're extremely annoying—So, no.”
“Okay,” he says, pressing his lips against the back of her golden hair. Violet continues to pretend her heart isn't fluttering.
“You're such a loser,” she scoffs, before curling herself into his arms further. He's warmer than the freaking sheets, and something about that angers her, because she hates relying on him for physical warmth, and love, and attention – it's embarrassing in general, need is for pathetic losers.
Charlie rubs her scalp softly, leaving kisses on her cheek. His feet curl around hers as he squirms above her, and damn it, he's so adorably warm and all hers. “I love you.”
“We're still not getting a cat,” she lastly says, before he takes her mouth in his and she's completely utterly gone.