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sendthembackWake up. Showers. Wake up. Awkward. WAKE UP.
Words required: 16,670
Words achieved: 18,873
Words of today: 1,474
XVI.
Keith wakes up first, to the light coming in through the blinds they didn't shut. His headache is a lot less overpowering than it was when it was still night, but otherwise, he feels about the same now that morning has finally come. He rolls away from the light and finds Rachel. She's turned away from him on her side, closer to the edge of the mattress than she should be. He lets his eyes slide up over her spine and all he can think to do is crawl into her. He rubs his rough cheek lightly against her shoulder then nuzzles her neck, breathing into the short hairs of her scruff.
"Rach--" he murmurs. He catches the taste of his own breath on his exhale and turns his face toward the pillow, hiding between Rachel's shoulder and the sheets. He knows that the very last thing she needs to wake up to is his morning breath in her face.
Rachel stirs a little, but doesn't make any substantial movement. "Good morning, Keith," she breathes, her voice strangely hoarse. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible," he answers into the pillow. "How about you?"
Rachel snorts, lifting her chin a fraction of an inch. "About the same. Plus, I really need to brush my teeth."
"You too?" Keith grunts.
Rachel stretches her arms above her head and presses her shoulders into her chest, laughing softly. "I'll race you?"
"Go ahead," Keith answers, barely keeping himself from kissing her shoulder blade by reflex. He shifts away from her, settling onto his back. "I'm not going anywhere fast."
She laughs again and then slowly rolls herself out of bed. Keith gets five seconds of her naked body swaying unsteadily around his bedroom, and then she's tugging on her t-shirt and and her jeans, not bothering with underwear. She looks over at him, catching the confused look on his face.
"I have to get my bag out of the kitchen," she explains. "Windows..."
He nods. "Got it."
She returns with her messenger bag over her shoulder and two fresh glasses of water in her hands.
"We'll do Advil after we've eaten," she says, passing him a glass. Then, she turns toward his bathroom.
She stops suddenly, looking back at him. "And you were right, by the way."
"About what?" he asks as she swings away again.
She drops her bag outside the bathroom door. "The window, the view. It's beautiful."
She steps into the bathroom and closes the door.
Keith drinks down every drop he can get, placing the empty glass carefully on the nightstand. Then, he relaxes onto his back, trying to remember how it feels to breathe. He lies perfectly still, listening to the sound of different types of water coming from behind the bathroom door, the toilet, the sink, the shower. He doesn't want to move, and he doesn't have to, not until Rachel's done with the shower, at least. It feels strangely good.
He closes his eyes, focusing on the almost-rhythm of the water in the pipes, Rachel's shower. It's quiet, calming. He starts to slip back into a headache sleep.
The bathroom door opens and Rachel comes out wrapped up in one of his giant towels. He smiles at her, motioning for her to just toss her dirty clothes wherever she wants.
Then, he closes his eyes again, waiting for her to dress and send him on his way. The room is weirdly silent and he immediately starts drifting toward sleep again. He jumps back into his skin when he feels Rachel's weight falling in next to his. Her hand on his shoulder calms him down and he finds himself opening his arms for her, pulling her into him. She's wonderfully warm and smells like his soap and her deodorant, some organic kind that isn't supposed to smell like anything, but actually smells kind of like fennel and something sweet.
When her lips meet his, lightly, not lingering, he's struck by how grossly unfair it is that she can breathe out make him taste mint. He tries not to breathe at all, but, then, she's already dropping away onto her back, dampening the pillows with her hair.
"Go clean up," she says, and he can tell she's grinning even though he can't see her. "I'm hungry."
Keith takes his time in the shower, hunting out a fresh towel and washcloth as the water runs warm. He scrubs every part of his body twice, rinsing and then lathering again. He doesn't know what he's doing or why, but it seem right; it seems like what he should be doing, taking his time, giving her space.
When he has completely exhausted his scrubbing and rinsing capabilities, he finally shuts of the water and then dries himself as carefully as he cleaned, until his hair is hardly damp and his skin is starting to sting. Then, he finally takes care of his teeth, smiling in spite of himself at the unfamiliar toothbrush that juts up from the holder next to his.
Then, there's nothing left to do. He takes a deep breath and then opens the bathroom door.
He's spent so long in the bathroom, there's hardly any steam left to escape when he opens the door. It's only slightly cooler in his bedroom and so, he moves slowly, gliding forward as he seeks out Rachel's body with his blurry eyes.
She's dead asleep, lying on her side again, taking deep, even breaths, and he doesn't want to wake her up, even though he knows he probably should. He tries to steal a glance at his alarm clock, but he can't make out the numbers, not from that distance, and not without his glasses. He takes his hundredth deep breath and sneaks back under the blankets.
He's trying to get used to the way her body always seems to be slightly warmer than his, but this, here, now--her soft, smooth, strangely-insulated skin... It--it just is. His next long breath makes the hairs on the back of her neck shift and scatter. She lets out a soft hum and then he has to hold her again.
"Rachel," he whispers, draping his arm over her stomach. He traps her legs between his and squeezes her tight.
"Hmm?"
"Wake up."
"Oh, I'm awake," she answers, though she doesn't move. "I'm just... I don't want to move."
Keith frowns. "We have..."
"Breakfast, Walgreens, Advil, I know." She sighs. "Plus, I'm supposed to meet Mr. Colbert for lunch." She takes another breath. "Just give me a second."
"Walgr--?" He stops himself, but too damn late.
"Yes," is all she says.
He stops breathing for just a second. Then, it all starts up again.
"Rite-Aid is closer," he offers.
She nods. "Okay."
Then, he squeezes her again, and he thinks he can actually hear her relax.
Another half an hour goes by before Rachel finally pulls away from him, but when she does, she's up and gone. He watches her hoist her bag onto his bed, blindly pawing through the pockets, unearthing a new pair of underwear and a fresh t-shirt and jeans. She dresses herself without ever looking at him, not until she's hunted out a rolled up pair of socks and is sitting down on the bed to put them on.
"Can I have my glasses?" she asks.
"Of course." Keith pulls himself up toward sitting then. He reaches over and grabs what he feels, coming up with his glasses first. He drops them onto the sheet covering his thigh and then tries a second time. Rachel smiles and he can even kind of see it, blurry vision and all.
Rachel's still grinning, though it's slipping toward awkwardly, when he passes her glasses over to her and slips his own onto his face. He feels horribly vulnerable in that moment, completely naked except for his glasses and the sheet, with Rachel ready to stuff her feet into her shoes and go. They stare at each other for just a second, remembering what they look like when everything is clear.
"Do you want some more water?" Rachel asks.
He doesn't and he's not even sure if he wants her to go, but he also isn't sure if he can deal with her watching him stumbling naked around his room.
"Sure," he says, working toward convincing himself that it's the better decision. Rachel nods, standing up again, and then, he's alone.
Rachel's waiting on the couch when Keith finally wanders out and into the living room. She's holding a glass of water and a second glass is sitting next to her on the coffee table. Keith looks down, past the table to her feet, checking for her shoes. They're already on her feet.
"Do you want to just go?" he asks.
Rachel nods. "Let's go."
Words required: 16,670
Words achieved: 18,873
Words of today: 1,474
XVI.
Keith wakes up first, to the light coming in through the blinds they didn't shut. His headache is a lot less overpowering than it was when it was still night, but otherwise, he feels about the same now that morning has finally come. He rolls away from the light and finds Rachel. She's turned away from him on her side, closer to the edge of the mattress than she should be. He lets his eyes slide up over her spine and all he can think to do is crawl into her. He rubs his rough cheek lightly against her shoulder then nuzzles her neck, breathing into the short hairs of her scruff.
"Rach--" he murmurs. He catches the taste of his own breath on his exhale and turns his face toward the pillow, hiding between Rachel's shoulder and the sheets. He knows that the very last thing she needs to wake up to is his morning breath in her face.
Rachel stirs a little, but doesn't make any substantial movement. "Good morning, Keith," she breathes, her voice strangely hoarse. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible," he answers into the pillow. "How about you?"
Rachel snorts, lifting her chin a fraction of an inch. "About the same. Plus, I really need to brush my teeth."
"You too?" Keith grunts.
Rachel stretches her arms above her head and presses her shoulders into her chest, laughing softly. "I'll race you?"
"Go ahead," Keith answers, barely keeping himself from kissing her shoulder blade by reflex. He shifts away from her, settling onto his back. "I'm not going anywhere fast."
She laughs again and then slowly rolls herself out of bed. Keith gets five seconds of her naked body swaying unsteadily around his bedroom, and then she's tugging on her t-shirt and and her jeans, not bothering with underwear. She looks over at him, catching the confused look on his face.
"I have to get my bag out of the kitchen," she explains. "Windows..."
He nods. "Got it."
She returns with her messenger bag over her shoulder and two fresh glasses of water in her hands.
"We'll do Advil after we've eaten," she says, passing him a glass. Then, she turns toward his bathroom.
She stops suddenly, looking back at him. "And you were right, by the way."
"About what?" he asks as she swings away again.
She drops her bag outside the bathroom door. "The window, the view. It's beautiful."
She steps into the bathroom and closes the door.
Keith drinks down every drop he can get, placing the empty glass carefully on the nightstand. Then, he relaxes onto his back, trying to remember how it feels to breathe. He lies perfectly still, listening to the sound of different types of water coming from behind the bathroom door, the toilet, the sink, the shower. He doesn't want to move, and he doesn't have to, not until Rachel's done with the shower, at least. It feels strangely good.
He closes his eyes, focusing on the almost-rhythm of the water in the pipes, Rachel's shower. It's quiet, calming. He starts to slip back into a headache sleep.
The bathroom door opens and Rachel comes out wrapped up in one of his giant towels. He smiles at her, motioning for her to just toss her dirty clothes wherever she wants.
Then, he closes his eyes again, waiting for her to dress and send him on his way. The room is weirdly silent and he immediately starts drifting toward sleep again. He jumps back into his skin when he feels Rachel's weight falling in next to his. Her hand on his shoulder calms him down and he finds himself opening his arms for her, pulling her into him. She's wonderfully warm and smells like his soap and her deodorant, some organic kind that isn't supposed to smell like anything, but actually smells kind of like fennel and something sweet.
When her lips meet his, lightly, not lingering, he's struck by how grossly unfair it is that she can breathe out make him taste mint. He tries not to breathe at all, but, then, she's already dropping away onto her back, dampening the pillows with her hair.
"Go clean up," she says, and he can tell she's grinning even though he can't see her. "I'm hungry."
Keith takes his time in the shower, hunting out a fresh towel and washcloth as the water runs warm. He scrubs every part of his body twice, rinsing and then lathering again. He doesn't know what he's doing or why, but it seem right; it seems like what he should be doing, taking his time, giving her space.
When he has completely exhausted his scrubbing and rinsing capabilities, he finally shuts of the water and then dries himself as carefully as he cleaned, until his hair is hardly damp and his skin is starting to sting. Then, he finally takes care of his teeth, smiling in spite of himself at the unfamiliar toothbrush that juts up from the holder next to his.
Then, there's nothing left to do. He takes a deep breath and then opens the bathroom door.
He's spent so long in the bathroom, there's hardly any steam left to escape when he opens the door. It's only slightly cooler in his bedroom and so, he moves slowly, gliding forward as he seeks out Rachel's body with his blurry eyes.
She's dead asleep, lying on her side again, taking deep, even breaths, and he doesn't want to wake her up, even though he knows he probably should. He tries to steal a glance at his alarm clock, but he can't make out the numbers, not from that distance, and not without his glasses. He takes his hundredth deep breath and sneaks back under the blankets.
He's trying to get used to the way her body always seems to be slightly warmer than his, but this, here, now--her soft, smooth, strangely-insulated skin... It--it just is. His next long breath makes the hairs on the back of her neck shift and scatter. She lets out a soft hum and then he has to hold her again.
"Rachel," he whispers, draping his arm over her stomach. He traps her legs between his and squeezes her tight.
"Hmm?"
"Wake up."
"Oh, I'm awake," she answers, though she doesn't move. "I'm just... I don't want to move."
Keith frowns. "We have..."
"Breakfast, Walgreens, Advil, I know." She sighs. "Plus, I'm supposed to meet Mr. Colbert for lunch." She takes another breath. "Just give me a second."
"Walgr--?" He stops himself, but too damn late.
"Yes," is all she says.
He stops breathing for just a second. Then, it all starts up again.
"Rite-Aid is closer," he offers.
She nods. "Okay."
Then, he squeezes her again, and he thinks he can actually hear her relax.
Another half an hour goes by before Rachel finally pulls away from him, but when she does, she's up and gone. He watches her hoist her bag onto his bed, blindly pawing through the pockets, unearthing a new pair of underwear and a fresh t-shirt and jeans. She dresses herself without ever looking at him, not until she's hunted out a rolled up pair of socks and is sitting down on the bed to put them on.
"Can I have my glasses?" she asks.
"Of course." Keith pulls himself up toward sitting then. He reaches over and grabs what he feels, coming up with his glasses first. He drops them onto the sheet covering his thigh and then tries a second time. Rachel smiles and he can even kind of see it, blurry vision and all.
Rachel's still grinning, though it's slipping toward awkwardly, when he passes her glasses over to her and slips his own onto his face. He feels horribly vulnerable in that moment, completely naked except for his glasses and the sheet, with Rachel ready to stuff her feet into her shoes and go. They stare at each other for just a second, remembering what they look like when everything is clear.
"Do you want some more water?" Rachel asks.
He doesn't and he's not even sure if he wants her to go, but he also isn't sure if he can deal with her watching him stumbling naked around his room.
"Sure," he says, working toward convincing himself that it's the better decision. Rachel nods, standing up again, and then, he's alone.
Rachel's waiting on the couch when Keith finally wanders out and into the living room. She's holding a glass of water and a second glass is sitting next to her on the coffee table. Keith looks down, past the table to her feet, checking for her shoes. They're already on her feet.
"Do you want to just go?" he asks.
Rachel nods. "Let's go."
