Timeless Love: Harfin, Zopher, Wyvannah (A SOSS one-shot book)

Vacation

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------So, because I love each and every one of you guys who helped me get my book to 1K reads, I figured you deserved a little somethin' special for your efforts. Also, per my sister from another mister @killiancaptainhook's request, this is the two-parter to "That's What I Love About Sunday" you asked me for. Hope you enjoy!!!

(Also, I know I said this one-shot wouldn't drop until March 24th, SOSS s3's premier date, but I couldn't help myself.)

(And, quick warning for some heavy language and smut at the end of this. Sorry, Not Sorry. ;p)

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A sharp, high-pitched ring jolted Griffin Campbell-Dunn awake, much to his annoyance and with a heavy sigh, he mustered up all the strength he could in his left hand to hit(more like crash)his fingers against the snooze of the digital bedside clock and stop its incessant ringing. However, when the shrill ringing continued, he attempted to silence the clock again. But when the ringing continued for the third time, he finally snapped his eyes open and realized his mistake. It was the phone beside the clock that was making the shrill, high-pitched and very annoying ringing that woke him up, not the clock. Realizing that there was no way he was going back to sleep, Griffin sat up, stretched his arms and answered the phone. "Hello?!" asked Griffin, his throat dry and scratchy, but still making his very clear annoyance known to the person on the other end of the phone. "Ah, wonderful to hear you answer the phone!!! Is this Mister Campbell-Dunn speaking?" asked a chipper voice in a thick, foreign accent, although they still spoke fluently. "Uh, yeah. This is Mister Campbell-Dunn speaking." said Griffin after clearing his throat. "Wonderful to hear from you, sir. This is the concierge providing you with the 10:00am wake-up call you requested." said the concierge in a formal and proper tone but with a friendly cadence laced in his words. Nonetheless, Griffin found himself regretting asking for the stupid wake-up call after it rudely woke him up from his beauty sleep. Rubbing the last little bit of sleep out of his eyes, Griffin sighed deeply before he spoke again. "Yeah, I did ask for that, didn't I?"

The question was rhetorical but the concierge took it in stride as he laughed heartily. "Yes, indeed, sir. However, I take you're not too much of a morning person, hmm?" Griffin's eyes adjusted to the dark room he found himself in and peered around the spacious and luxurious hotel bedroom, which was way fancier than The Tremont, he found himself in. "No, not really." answered Griffin honestly, letting out a small sigh. "Well, while I have you, sir, might I interest you and your partner in some room service? Perhaps you would both care for some breakfast in bed?" That simple question brought the first real smile to Griffin's face and he peered over his side to look at his almost 8-months pregnant wife Harper's still-sleeping form, her black curly hair blocking her face from view. Leaning down beside her, Griffin planted a small kiss to her shoulder, and the tired but happy groan she gave in response told him that she was awake, or at the very least, aware of the conversation going on. "That sounds good." answered Griffin slowly, sitting back up to talk with the concierge. "And what will it be today, sir?" asked the concierge who paused so Griffin could gather his thoughts and think. Briefly glancing at Harper, who was slowly starting to wake up, he mentally ran through a list of Harper's favorite breakfast foods to try and make the decision a little bit easier. Finally, a few minutes later, he spoke again. "Can we get an order of pancakes and french toast with blueberries, strawberries and bananas with whipped cream on the side and chocolate milk and orange juice to drink?" asked Griffin slowly, turning to look at Harper, who was busy trying to reclaim the sweet embrace of sleep, as he posed the question.