Gwenaëlle was already good at this part even when they were brand-new to each other, and so it’s little surprise that she was raring to go. Stephen reaches up and feels the fabric bundle weighing on his chest, automatically trying to suss out the shape of it. (Fabric wrapped around something else, a few rigid square edges, glass.)
He levers himself up with a drowsy groan, eventually scooting to a seated position against the headboard, Gwenaëlle still with him in his lap. (It is a very nice way to wake up.) It is in fact very early, but any urge to burrow back under the covers is offset by, despite himself, that childish sparkle of delight starting to flicker to life, of wondering what’s in the gift. He does love treats. He balances the bundle and glances over to his own nightstand beside the alcove, less well-hidden:
“I have some things for you, too. Do I open this one in front of you, with you watching? I realise this is our first time exchanging in-person—”
He’s been upgraded from Guilfoyle sack duty. Also nice.
no subject
He levers himself up with a drowsy groan, eventually scooting to a seated position against the headboard, Gwenaëlle still with him in his lap. (It is a very nice way to wake up.) It is in fact very early, but any urge to burrow back under the covers is offset by, despite himself, that childish sparkle of delight starting to flicker to life, of wondering what’s in the gift. He does love treats. He balances the bundle and glances over to his own nightstand beside the alcove, less well-hidden:
“I have some things for you, too. Do I open this one in front of you, with you watching? I realise this is our first time exchanging in-person—”
He’s been upgraded from Guilfoyle sack duty. Also nice.