wrong one//g.d

t w e n t y

(y/n pov)

"Oh," you mumbled, sitting up. You rubbed your eyes as you felt the bed dip with the weight of Gray's knee. "Oh, thank you," you said with a little yawn.

"Yeah, good morning," he said with a smile. You smiled back a little, taking the mug into your hands. You yawned again, the mug in your lap. "How'd you sleep?" You shrugged.

"Okay, I guess." He nodded. "You have a nice mattress," you said. Patting it. He smiled.

"We have a nice mattress." You smiled, shaking your head as he chuckled, sitting on the edge of what had become his side of the bed. "So," he started. You took a sip of your coffee.

"When'd you wake up?" you asked. He shrugged, checking the watch he already had on.

"An hour or so ago? Not long." You nodded. "I just checked my email and, you know, replied and stuff." You gave him a small smile.

"That's nice," you said with a sigh as you took another sip to avoid talking.

"So--" he began again. "What's the plan for today?" You looked up at him.

"I mean-- I don't know." He titled his head. "Probably check my email too." He smiled. "You know, reply." He chuckled, standing and stretching.

"Well, good luck with that." You nodded, legs swinging over the side of the bed.

"Are you going anywhere today?" you asked him. He turned, about to head out the door.

"Uh-- I don't have anything to do," he said. "Why?"

"No, I was just wondering- I mean, you guys probably do loads of things here, right?" He smiled, shrugging. "Okay, sorry just wondering." He shook his head.

"No need to apologise." You headed to the bathroom. "I was gonna go to the grocery store later though-- I have some things I need to buy." You nodded.

"Okay."

"Need anything?" You shrugged. "Or you can-- you can come?" You paused, hand on the door of the bathroom.

"Uh-- I'll just stay, I think," you said with a small smile. He nodded quickly. "I'll check the kitchen and let you know?

"For sure."

You headed into the bathroom to do your business before heading out again to grab the rest of the coffee he'd made you. You shook your head, trying to picture him waking up and seeing you first thing in the morning.

Day one of being married to-- could you even call him your best friend anymore?

You headed downstairs to see him at the island, as promised, doing work. He looked up at you, still typing and gave you a smile before resuming his vision to the computer.

"Would you like me to make you something?" he asked. You shook your head, pulling open his fridge.

"No, that's okay-- you do your work." He smiled, pushing his barstool back a bit. "You want anything?" you asked, turning back to look at him as you pulled out the carton of almond milk.

"I had some fruit," he told you.

"Okay-- oatmeal?" you asked him. He pointed to a cupboard and you looked in it, tilting your head up. You sighed. "Grayson, I'm not six foot."

He looked up at you and chuckled as you crossed your arms. He stood as you stepped aside, walking over to get the container for you, up on the highest shelf. "We're gonna have to do a little rearranging, I think," he said with a smile.

"That would be appreciated." He handed you the jar and you thanked him as he went back to his seat. "Oh-- cinnamon?" He looked over and sighed, standing back up.