Fact and Fantasy (Wilson x Reader)

Clouds and Flowers -Non"canon" fun-

The grass is lovely, green, and soft, and the sun shines bright with only a few clouds drifting by. A gentle breeze tugs at you ever so passively. It really is a lovely day.
The two of you have really been working your fingers to the bone, preparing for next winter, with the previous only having ended a few weeks ago.
Gently, you lean against your partner's shoulder watching him work, carful not to disrupt the finer pieces of the project "Wilsoon."
"Yes, my dear?" He doesn't look up from his twisting wires.
"You know how winter is 120 days away?"
"Right?"
"And we still have a lot of last year's preparations?"
"Riight?" He finally gives you a side glance, trying to see where you're going with this.
"And how we spent all Spring getting the garden growing and everything else repaired?"
He sighs, setting down his work before turning to you with his undivided attention, "Love, where are you going with this?"
"We need a vacation." You conclude with a determined smile.
"A what now??" Where's this coming from???
"A vacation, a holiday, or at least a break. A chance to get our heads screwed on right."
"Oh no! Is your mental health not doing alright again? Why didn't you say so?! We can always just go-"
"Oh my gosh, Wilson, no! I just wanna spend time with you dang it! No scavenging trips, no lives on the line, no strings attached. Simply because I want to spend time with you." You boop his nose both out of play, and exasperation.
"Oh..." he taps his fingers together embarrassed. Of course that's what you meant. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, there's a hill not too far away, it has a pretty view, I thought that'd be a good place to go." You grin up at him, hopeful. If he says no, you're dragging him by the heels anyway. If he works too hard again, his brains gonna get fried!
He nods to your idea, seeming to agree. It could be fun! You take his hand in yours, and before he knows it, he's running to keep up with you.

He stumbles on some rocks, trying not to bring her down with him. "Love, could you please slow down?"
"Nah, we're almost there, keep up, old man!" He can hear the smirk in her voice. He's not old! Wilson only turned thirty, two years ago! He's the pinnacle of health, by gum it. Before he can reply she lets go and turns around abruptly to face him, arms stretched wide "Tada!"
"Woah..." It's a beautiful place, full of flowers and a tall birch tree. Beneath it lies a worn, but soft looking blanket. Wilson smiles at the inviting sight. Slowly, he looks back to her "Did you plan this the whole-" the words die in his throat.
The sun shines behind her, getting near the point of setting. It shimmers a soft, warm, orange glow that makes a gentle halo about her head. The light of his life beams a little brighter having brought him here.
"What do ya think? Do you like it?" Her arms have come together as she steps back toward him in eager hope.
With wondering eyes he gently cups her cheek and pulls her close "it's absolutely beautiful, darling." Very gently, Wilson rests his forehead against hers.
"Good, because it took me a while to find it." She teases him lightly, before leading him to the blanket and laying down, propped against the tree. "I found it's a good place to watch the clouds go by or stargaze."
Wilson follows after, taking a seat beside his little light. She's right. From here, you can see the clouds move on in the distance and still be protected by the sun.
"Well, what shapes do you see?" He asks, pulling her in close. He knows that this one question will release a slew of trivia regarding clouds, what the shapes mean, and where those meanings came from, and he doesn't mind one bit. He watches the way you trace the shapes in the air, trying to help him see. He nods along, slowly nestling down the trunk of the tree and on to the blanket. From here he can definitely see the clouds better. Definitely. It's not because it gives him a different angle on her and her words.

The day bleeds into evening when you feel Wilson curl against your side. Quickly, you look down to make sure he's alright.
You chuckle to yourself "sleepy head..."
On his lips rest a small, content smile, hands resting on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath. Wilson looks so calm and peaceful, his hair a little scrunched from how he's positioned. You smile and run your fingers through it, quietly humming to yourself.
It's soft and yields to your touch, not meeting a single snag. For a moment, you swear you can feel him nuzzling into your touch.
You look back to the field of flowers when suddenly, an idea comes to mind. You grasp one by the stem, and in a firm snap, pull it from the ground. The petals are a soft pastel that stands out so stark when you nestle it into his hair. Then another, and another...and another. It's a game at this point. How many flowers can we put in Wilson's hair before he wakes up.
Apparently, a lot. Every inch of hair that you can reach is covered in colorful petals and stems. To be honest, you're very proud of your handy work. You cover your mouth to hide your mirth as he stretches with a yawn. "Hello again, sleepy head." His arms wrap around you, holding on.
"Hi..." Wilson groggily smiles.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Mhm.." he sighs, nuzzling into your neck.
"You got up just in time, we need to go home."
"Can't we just stay here? I might have enough fire supplies..."
"Hm, tempting man." You poke his ribs "but no, I don't know how safe it is here at night."
Wilson lets out an exaggerated sigh "fiiiine." He steadily sits up and rubs his eyes, the movement causing a few of the petals to fall.
"Pffff" you cover your mouth again.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, Dear, nothing." You assure as he helps you to your feet. He puts the blanket on your shoulders and holds your hand down the hill.

Half way home, your eyes widen as you feel a stem slide behind your ear. In an instant you're inspecting Wilson's hair to find that he had been sneaking back the flowers you'd given him. "How did you know they were there?!?"
He grins and holds a single finger to his lips "I have my ways." Of course, he only continues once you shoot him a long, hard glare "And I may have been blissfully awake every so often."
"The whole time??" You shrug the blanket off and into your arms
"Yes." He laughs through the word as he braces for the blanket soaring at his head
"Cheeky man!" You flop the blanket over his head, flowers and all, in a huff.
"Yes, but I'm you're cheeky man." He pulls you into the blanket now on his shoulders. Of course. You let him carry one, because it's true. And you love your cheeky man.

-I'll see you all in 18 months. But not before I fix my spelling and syntax mistakes!-