WHO: Frank and Clare WHAT: Being who they are. WHERE: "Their home" really his home. Shh don’t tell her that. WHEN: Sunset WARNINGS: NC-17 for sure
Frank was just waking up for the night and woke to find that Clare wasn’t in bed with him. He wiggled against the cool of the satin sheets. Yes, Frank liked satin. He liked to touch things, soft, smooth, sometimes rough could be good but let’s not get a head of ourselves. Waking up, wiggling in the cool of the sheets, he rolled over onto his stomach and snatched the pillow from Clare’s side of the bed and sniffed it. She always smelt good and managed to leave her sent on just about everything. Rolling over again he finally sat up in bed. He scratched at the back of his head and stretched with a loud yawn before he left the bed. He picked up one of his red robes that he so vainly had HC sewn in on the right breast. A nice soft red robe with his initials stitched in gold, he had no complaints about it.
Stepping into the door way between his room and the hall he put an arm up and leaned on it for support as he scanned the hall. It was quiet and there was no Clare and this was bothering him. Frank was worried she had gone out and that he would be alone. Not that he couldn't go out and find someone to entertain him but he wanted his Clare. He cleared his throat and then shouted “CLARE-BEAR WHERE ARE YOU!” it wasn’t a question so much as a demand for her to show herself.
After his shout he wandered down the hall and began to search for her. Part of him was worried she was hiding somewhere waiting with a stake to stab him in the heart or throw another God damn vase at him. He didn’t think she’d be mad with him though, he just woke up, how much could he have fucked up in his sleep?