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It wasn’t often that you slept in late. Your internal alarm clock always rang early in the morning, unrelenting in its mission to get you out of the warmth of the bed you shared with your husband. Even on the weekends. And it wasn’t the kind of internal alarm that allowed you to hit snooze and go back to sleep. No, once you were awake, you were awake and there was very little that could put you back to sleep. Although, you supposed it was worth it to be able to admire him while he was sleeping peacefully. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.
Miguel, on the other hand, was a deep sleeper, and his heavy hold on your waist in the mornings often made it difficult, almost comically so, to actually get out of bed. It often felt like a stealth mission to untangle yourself from his hold without waking him up. Yes, Miguel was a deep sleeper, but he always stirred when you tried to leave the bed. If, somehow, you were able to unravel yourself from the tangle of limbs that was your husband, he often slept in until the late morning. You’d never minded it, not once. With how much he overworked himself, you figured he deserved to rest as long as he needed to.
Despite wishing you had the ability to sleep until the late morning on weekends, you liked the peaceful quiet of the morning. No loud neighbors, no responsibilities, just peace. You often made breakfast for you and Miguel, trying not to wake him with your movements in the kitchen. But, without fail, the aroma of breakfast always roused him. Miguel’s weekend morning always started with a loud groan that you could hear from the kitchen. It made you laugh every single time, no matter how many times you’d heard it before. You’d often teased him that he sounded like an old man, to which he’d always roll his eyes playfully and retort, “Yeah, but I’m your old man.”
After his groan to life, Miguel would stumble out to the kitchen, and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head in the crook of your neck.
“Ay, mi vida, it’s too early,” he’d say, putting some of his weight onto you. You’d chuckle and turn your head to kiss his temple.
“Good morning to you too. Breakfast’ll be ready soon,” you’d reply, humming in content at feeling his warmth on you again. And there both of you would stay, until the food was ready and you sat down to enjoy another relaxed morning together.
Miguel had a love-hate relationship with this weekend morning routine. He loved waking up to the smell of breakfast and the sight of you buzzing around the apartment. How you fit so perfectly in his life, he’d never know, but he was thankful all the same. But, as much as he loved it, he hated not being able to wake up with you in his arms. He knew you were an early riser, he was well aware of that, and for the most part it didn’t bother him. During the week, he’d force himself to get out of bed early with you and get ready for the day. But, on the weekends when neither of you had to be anywhere, when neither of you had any responsibilities or obligations, he wanted nothing more than to be lazy in bed with you, to just bask in the glow of morning.
So, unbeknownst to you, Miguel devised a plan. You’d just finished a big project at work, and he knew you were in desperate need of sleep. But, he knew that you’d wake up early all the same. He once asked you why you always got up so early, and you just shrugged and said, “I had a dog when I was younger that always woke me and my mom up super early, and I think I just got used to it. That, and I always had early classes in college.” Two very reasonable explanations for your early-rising, Miguel thought. Still, he wanted you to sleep in, even if just a little.
That Saturday morning, you woke up early as always. Your eyes blinked away the bleariness of sleep, and you quickly realized that something was different this morning. Miguel had worked his way to lay almost completely on top of you. Not only that, but his arms were wrapped like a vice around your waist, his legs tangled with yours. Immediately, you knew he’d done this on purpose. Miguel wasn’t one to complain about your different sleep schedules, but he had voiced recently that he missed you when he first woke up. You always felt honored to see the soft side of Miguel, one that he didn’t show often. His head was resting on your chest, rising and falling with your breathing. You chuckled and began threading your fingers through his hair. How he kept it so soft you’d never know. You tried to ask him once, but he just winked and didn’t give you a straight answer. This man would be the death of you, you just knew it.
Your touch on his scalp caused him to stir, his grip tightening on you slightly, if that was even possible. His weekend groan rumbled your body, and you chuckled.
“Well aren’t you needy this morning, love,” you teased, not stopping your ministrations. Miguel looked up at you, a knowing look in his eyes.
“Buenos dias, cariño,” he said sleepily, moving up to kiss you. No matter how many times you kissed, it still made you melt. You shifted until your positions were reversed, with your head on Miguel’s chest. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. He placed another kiss on the top of your head, caressing your hip. For the first time in a long time, you felt your eyelids beginning to grow heavier. You sighed, your body relaxing, and felt Miguel’s soft laugh vibrate his chest.
“So this was your plan all along, hm?” you asked, allowing yourself to be lulled into the light haze of sleep once again.
“Just stay here with me, querida. Just for a little while,” Miguel answered, pulling the covers back onto the two of you. You let your eyes close, bathing in the tranquil quiet of sleeping in with your husband.
You ended up sleeping until mid-afternoon, and Miguel drank in every second of it. This time, he was the one to make breakfast, really lunch. Maybe he’d have to do this more often.