Twenty/Twenty Vision {James Potter}

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James walks throughout your home, feet padding against the floor. He rubs his eyes, attempting to wipe away the drowsiness of having just woken up.

Hearing the clanging of pots and pans, his attention moves toward the kitchen and his heart skips a beat. He knows you're in there, trying once again to cook something. He grins, breathing in deeply and brushing a hand through his hair to ruffle his uncontrollable locks.

Walking into the doorway, he leans a shoulder against it, crossing his arms and smiling at you as you try and figure out a box of waffle mix. Your brows were furrowed deeply as you attempted to read the instructions.

"But if I wanted to make more servings, how many extra eggs would I need? You don't tell me that now do you, you dumb box of trash," you murmur through gritted teeth. James let out a few silent laughs before heading over to you.

Your gaze moves towards the sound of feet moving and you inhale deeply at the sight of James, as if just his presence was a breath of fresh air. He hums as he slides up behind you, his arms curling around you and pressing against your stomach so that your body molds against his. You sink back into the hold, resting your head against his shoulder and smiling up at him.

"Good morning, love," you say softly as James starts swaying you both back and forth. He leans down and gives you a soft kiss.

"Good morning. How's breakfast going?" He asks amusedly, his lips still brushing against yours as his face remains centimeters away. You snort, shaking your head lightly.

"As if you don't already know," you say, eyes narrowing playfully. James' face breaks out into a wide grin as he visibly holds back his laughter.

"Alright, move on over," he says, squeezing your waist before his arms leave you. You jump as he gives your butt a few light pats, looking over your shoulder to grin at him before you move away from the burner, turning around to face him fully. You see him pick up the box of mix and your brows furrow.

"What are you doing?" You ask, shoulders tensing as his hand fiddles with the edge of the skillet. He looks up, noting the ingredients you had already gathered.

"I'm making breakfast, what does it look like I'm doing?" He murmurs, his attention on the food. Your jaw drops as a small sound of disbelief falls out. You step forward, placing your hand on the box, effectively getting James to look at you.

"No— James! I wanted to make you breakfast," you argue, brows set in determination. James grins, appearing amused and you don't entirely appreciate it. He turns to you, hip leaning against the oven, box still held in both your hands.

"I think we'd both be happier if I at least helped," he says, smugness dripping from his tone and expectations clear in his gaze. Your face drops as you stare at him. You both silently watch each other, your eyes narrowed slightly.

Eventually you sigh, hand dropping from the box mix. You blink back, breaking the stare down.

"Fine," you mumble, moving to cross your arms. James smiles, laughing and shaking his head lightly.

He moves quick, his hands grabbing onto your waist and before you know what's happening, he's lifting you up into the air before plopping you down on the counter. His hands move to the outside of your legs as they begin caressing up and down your thighs, hands slipping past the edge of your loose pajama shorts. You stare at him wide-eyed as he smiles brightly.

"There we go, dove," he says softly, squeezing your thighs before letting go and moving back to the waffle mix. You lean back against the cupboards watching his hands as they move around the ingredients.

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