Joy ride (part1): Stealing

morning love

She wakes up in stages; slow and sure and comfortable in all her self-assured bliss. Safe in his arms, like an enigma, impossible yet real in all her tangible details. The dimple in her cheek as she dreams, the slight dent on her jaw, from a fold in her pillow, fading slowly after she rearranges her head; the imprint on her face for long, slow minutes.

Shuri tosses again, and he notices the small scar on her forehead; so fine even he can only see it from up this close, and it catches the sunlight as she twitches in her dream, stretches and turns. A radiant goddess at rest, she blinks her eyes before she's gone again, never really awake.

It is a wonder to look at her, so out of place; outside of his reality. Or should have been. A reclining, relaxing figure that belongs more on canvas than here, in his bed. And yet, there is no moment of lost composure, no tensing when she notices her loss of barings; not even a confusion about where she's waking up. Finally she stretches, and slits open half an amused eye to stare back at him. "Morning."

"Morning." James grins down at her from his head atop of his real hand, elbow propping him up for a better view. He could look at her for hours more; watch as the rising light throws her silhouette in different shades; take in every creeping shadow and reflection. It's nearly a shame she's awake.

Though awake opens up the merit of other options. Better options. Sweeter options.

At his cheeky upturn of the lips she frowns. "How long have you been lying there staring at me? Did you even get any sleep?"

Honestly compels him to say: "how could I close my eyes, when I have the most beautiful star ever made right here shining in my bed?"

The princess snorts at him, nostrils flapping in a very undignified gesture. "Oh, Great Panther have mercy. You really are the King of Cliché's."

"Hmm," James offers, bending down to reach her lips with his, her smell; her essence enveloping like a spring day; his own scents mingling with hers. Like he's part of her. "You love my tacky come-ons. They are vintage."

"Ain't that the truth." She drawls, making space for words as she turns away from him, falls to her back. "Boy, they belong in a museum."

Well, he did find Bucky in a museum. That should count. "So, what are we doing this morning?"

And he- James wishes. Wishes for her to say; for her to stay. Just stay all morning, all afternoon and evening and forever. But, that's a bit much. And in the light of morning. In the light of day, and the real world, he already knows.

"Ah, I can't stay long. I have a meeting in the afternoon. And I need to prepare." She moves to the edge of the bed, reaching out for her dress, bringing it up to her face, squinting in the morning light. "And this is ruined. Guess I'll be visiting my seamstress. Again."

And yes, James knows. He shouldn't presume. But he wants more of her. Of her time, her attention. And he shouldn't demand. He shouldn't take. But, he's good at that; at taking and he just wants to.. Just wants to be...

Shuri sighs, straightens, blue dress pulled against her skin as she sits up, serious. Pulling his attention; taking him from his thoughts. "We also.. We need to look into finding you a different doctor."

Wait. What?

If James freezes. If he turns away. If he sits up, tense hands on his knees; if he stops breathing and some of the fear shows in his eyes. Well. well, that's just. Just plain honestly. He would not try to hide this from her.

Shuri takes one look at his face, and knows. Knows; and not knows, apparently, because she continues too airily. "It's just not professional for me to be your doctor. After.. this. During this. With this?"she stutters, her eloquence failing her for once. "If this happens again. If you want it to? Spirits. this is.." she frowns at him. "You are making this hard. I can still come with you; to your appointments. But I'm thinking Doctor Isikhova, that nice old lady? Do you think you'd be okay with her..?"