It’s the Thought That Counts
By Misha
Disclaimer- Not mine. I’m just borrowing them for a little while and will return them when I am done.
Author’s Notes- I am working on a dark WIP and I needed something fluffy to distract me and make me smile, so I asked mrswalkerwrites for ideas and she suggested a Chris x MC fic involving breakfast in bed. This is what my brain came up with. It’s short, but it’s super fluffy and exactly what my brain needed.
Pairing- Chris/MC
Rating- PG
Summary- Chris tries to make Savannah breakfast in bed.
Words- 351
There was a weird shrill sound in the background that kept intruding on my lovely dream. I finally blinked awake, unable to block the noise anymore. I also realized that I was alone in the bed. Where was Chris?
I sniffed the air. Wait, was that smoke? Once I identified the smoke, I realized that the piercing noise had been the smoke alarm. I jumped out of bed and hurried out of my room and towards the kitchen, which seemed to be where the smoke was coming from.
“Chris?”
I saw my boyfriend standing in front of the stove, surrounded by a black cloud. He turned around at the sound of my voice. “Savannah, what are you doing up?”
“It’s kind of hard to sleep through a smoke alarm,” I pointed out, though it had finally stopped shrieking.
He looked sheepish. “Oh yeah.”
“What’s going on here?” I asked though I thought I had a good idea given the charred mess on the stove and the general state of the kitchen, as well as Chris’s sheepish grin.
“I wanted to surprise you,” he told me, “I was going to make you breakfast in bed, but I kind of burnt the pancakes.”
“You’re so sweet,” I told him, leaning over to give him a kiss. “Though it’s a good thing everyone else is gone because Becca would have given you a lecture about destroying the kitchen.” The rest of our roommates had already left for Spring break, but Chris and I had decided to stay for an extra few days to get a little bit of alone time. Which was probably why he’d decided to make me breakfast in bed and while the results were less than perfect, I appreciated the thought and planned to reward it appropriately.
“How do you feel about cereal for breakfast?” Chris asked after ruefully, looking at the pancakes, or what was left of them.
“I feel very positive about it,” I assured him, hooking my arms around his waist, “but there’s something else I want first.”
“Oh?” Chris asked with a grin. “And what’s that?”
“You.”
- End
