KNEE SOCKS - jacob bertrand

𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛𝘠-𝘖𝘕𝘌.

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"DO YOU WANT PANCAKES??" A loud voice disrupted Charlie from a deep sleep, rousing her almost immediately.

"Uh, sure?" She groaned out in question. She unsuccessfully tried to rub the sleep from her face, simultaneously trying to flatten out her curls. Everything that happened the night before appeared in her mind, including their night.

After asking if she could dress like Natasha Romanoff sometime, a drunken Jacob and Charlie had walked straight into their hotel room, clambering into bed faster than they could kick their socks off. Jacob had become a bit more sober when his head hit the pillow, so they laid awake, discussing the premiere, Jacob's acting, Eli's story, and Charlie's writing. They hit all the possible creative points in their relationship, and then succumbed to their fatigue.

Charlie slowly stumbled out of bed, choosing not to continue to deal with her hair. She shuffled out of the room to find Jacob hunched over the small kitchenette, spilling pancake mix gracefully over a pan.

His hair was sloppily ran through, a pillow print still visible on his red-tinted cheeks. Her stomach couldn't help but flip when her gaze reached his lips — because he slept on his stomach, they were always swollen when he woke up, and he had them pursed in focus as he lifted the pan and flipped a pancake.

"Holy fuck, did you see that?" Jacob widely turned towards her, his baby blues lit up with electricity. Charlie had finally wrenched herself out of her head to nod yes, and slowly walked over to wrap her arms around his bare middle.

"I didn't know I was dating Guy Fieri." Charlie murmured into his shoulder. He placed his head on hers as his body shook with laughter.

"Y'know, maybe we retire the nickname Duck and stick with Mayor of Flavortown, what do you think?" Jacob joked as he pulled her in front of him, smiling at her tired face.

Charlie gave a loud snort. "God, Bertrand. Even your thoughts are sexy." She dipped a finger into the pancake mix, popping it into her mouth, the sweet taste slightly waking her up. "Literally, you could be a real life Peter Parker."

Jacob clutched his heart in faux-awe, his face returning to a smile as he turned back to the stove. "Wasn't that always the goal?" His sing song tone made Charlie's stomach flip. Her thoughts and feelings were uncontrollable around him.

"Obviously."

The couple spent the next hour in the kitchen, humming songs as they traded the spatula, flipping pancakes, landing some on the plate and some on the ground.

In their tiredness, they sat and ate in a comfortable silence. Only the sounds of their forks against plate, and their shared gentle breathing filled the room. Neither would speak a word just yet, because why disrupt something so peaceful? Comfort in silence was in the past an oddity to them both, but times change, and so did they.

"So what time do you work today?" Jacob's voice finally cracked through the void.

"Around 4 until close. Hoping to get some time to write though." Charlie responded, her hand twitching at the thought of a pen between her nimble fingers for the first time in a few days.