Just a quick little one chaptered story I thought up while I was thinking of ideas for the next chapter of Escape. This has nothing to do with Escape, though, it's completely different. One chapter. Really short. Rated for one naughty word. Enjoy!

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I awake for the third time, unable to sleep. It's a curse, really, not being able to relax for just one night. I'm here in bed, but my mind is still in that suffocating office cube at work. All I see are names and numbers scrolling down a long list in my head, customer after customer.

Sighing, I turn around, expecting to find my husband soundly slumbering beside me. What I am met with, though, are wrinkled sheets and a vacant space. Apparently, I’m not the only one having sleeping troubles. Silently, I scramble out of bed and make my way downstairs to brew myself a cup of tea.

I wasn't expecting to find my husband there already, sipping some steamy liquid, hot chocolate, judging by the rich smell, and pouring over an old novel.

A small smile creeps over my face as I watch him from the entryway, my head and shoulder pressed against the wooden door frame.

The room is dim. Only the low brass chandelier above the table, where he sits, is on. Seeing him down here brings a flood of memories back to mind, for this is the exact way we had first met. He would always read some book or article every night at closing time in the coffee shop where I first worked a while ago, every night I would ask him why he chose to do so, and every night, he would smile that ravishing smile that could easily knock any sane woman off her feet and respond with, "The mind is a terrible thing to waste." before burying his nose within the pages again whilst I cleaned the tables and locked up the register.

Silently, in the doorway, I chuckle to myself. He was such a goofball.

And now, as I watch him in this peaceful state, it comes to mind and amazes me that with a simple smile, he can still make the earth shudder beneath my feet. I've heard so many times that relationships tended to die away after the ‘I do’s, but we are still holding strong, him and I. Still to this day, deep within those endless fudge eyes, I freely descend. Each time we share a gaze, I find myself willingly drowning in those dark orbs.

He's still got that endearing charm that can drive a girl mad, pulling her towards both the feel of love and lust; it makes me weak in the knees just thinking about it.

He brings the white mug to his lips, savoring the warmth of the fiery liquid. His eyes close and he sits there for a while, silent and motionless with the cup still rested at his lips. At first, I think he must be really thirsty to be drinking so much at once, but his lips are not parted. Is he falling asleep? I think, giggling amusedly. But, suddenly, his eyes snap open and he sets the mug back on the table, smirking and shaking his head as if he's just been hit with a humorous flashback.

He flips the page, "You know, it's not polite to stare."

My heart skips a beat. He isn't talking to me, is he? How could he know that I'm in here? I stiffen and walk backwards a little, trying to blend into the shadows.

He places his bookmark in the crack of the book and turns to me, smirking, "And neither is not speaking when you are spoken to." Damn. He did know.

Sighing, I step into the kitchen, my blue slippers brushing against the hardwood floors. He offers me the seat next to him, but I plant myself in his lap instead, drinking from his cup. He watches me all the while, and I suddenly wonder if he sees me the same way I see him. The same. Does he still love me the same, or am I just the employee he shared casual conversations with in a coffee shop?

I sit the mug on the table and smile down at him, "What?"

He shakes his head mutely and pulls me down further into the chair between his legs so that he may hug me from behind. On my shoulder, he rests his chin, speaking softly, "Nice how we can just take what we want." Says he, darting his eyes back and forth between his steaming cup and myself. Mentally, I gasp. That's all you have to say? I scold in my head, After all of that staring and thinking, all you have to say to me is "Nice how we can just take what we want"?

I force a weak laugh, "Well, sorry, I had a craving for something sweet and your chocolate was tantalizing me."

He chuckles and turns his head to leave two kisses on the side of my neck, "I wasn't talking about that. I meant you."

I furrow my eyebrows, confused at the statement, "Wait, what? That makes no sense."

He smirks and kisses my neck again, whispering hotly enough against my skin to get the hairs to stand on end, "The mind, my dear, is a terrible thing to waste."