Who: Kiley and Chase When: Morning where: Chase's Room
Chase liked it, probably a little more than he was willing to admit, when he woke up first in the morning. He could tell that the bed was still occupied even before he opened his eyes, the familiar warmth and scent emanating from the side of the bed that had been unofficially labeled as Kiley's in both houses. He was used to opening his eyes and rolling around to find Kiley perched at the window, smoking a cigarette or going about her morning routine. This morning, he smiled a little dopily at her sleeping face still smushed cutely into the pillow.
He felt weirdly groggy as he nudged himself toward her, and he wondered if it was earlier than he thought it was, or if he hadn't slept that well. Not unusual, considering everything they had to deal with on a daily basis, but he recognized they were still in the beach house bed, and he'd been doing okay there so far. Considering how warm it was already, having climbed into bed in only a pair of underwear, he didn't make as much body contact as he really would have liked to. Instead, he settled his form a few inches away from hers without jostling the mattress too much, tilting his head forward so they were partially occupying the same pillow, his nose lightly brushing the top of her head as he settled in comfortably. He kept his mouth closed to avoid an onslaught of inevitable morning breath, and tilted his chin away, not sure just how scruffy his facial hair was this morning, not sure if she would appreciate being woken up by sand paper nestling against her skin.
He wanted to go back to sleep, but instead he focused on the table beside the bed, at the few polaroids he'd taken and left there over the past few days to dry. The stone bowl they used for an ash tray was there, and...a weird empty space that his mind prodded him about. Something had been there last time he'd seen it, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. His eyes closed as he yawned, and he stifled the grunt and sigh that threatened to drift out of him as his mouth stretched wide, then clamped shut again. Bowling today, that much he remembered, and he wanted to grumble. But there was something else, something he knew he was forgetting that was probably important. Shit, what was it?