helo

flip wakes up before you. all the time. even on the weekends and even when he worked late the night before.

the two of you have your own morning routine, but he has his pre-you morning routing

during the week he’ll wake up at 5am, an hour or two later on the weekend. but he’ll get up, usually having to untangle himself from you, as much as he’d rather stay in bed with you

most of the time he’ll roll out of bed completely naked as one of his favorite nighttime routines is to fuck you senseless until you both pass out.

his first task is to turn up the heater. before you head to bed he usually sets it lower. the two of you make up for the heat the hvac doesn’t supply during those hours.

then he’ll jump in the shower. they’re never long, five minutes the most when you’re not taking a shower with him. he’d shampoo, condition, use body wash. simple.

then he’d make his way to the kitchen a put on a pot of coffee so it would be ready for you when you woke up. he’d always make it for you the way you liked so it would be sitting in one of your favorite mugs when you came stumbling into the kitchen.

after preparing your coffee he’d sit on the couch and turn on the tv, watching the morning news until you woke up

he’d watch you saunter into the kitchen and grab your coffee. you’d interchange between wearing one of his white t-shirts or one of his many flannels in the morning. whichever one you wore swallowing your form whole.

you’d come on sit next to him on the couch, your legs resting in his lap and snuggling into his side. sometimes it was uncomfortable, but neither of you minded.

he’d switch off the news, to some other morning program, usually reruns of the brady bunch. but he still told you some more important things he’d picked up from the news. you liked to know what was going on, but watching the news itself wasn’t the best start of your day. but it coming out of flip’s mouth, his voice. that was much better. you couldn’t be stressed listening to his deep, rumbling voice.

after finishing a half hour episode of whatever was on the two of you would make your way to the bathroom. you’d strip yourself of his shirt, his dark eyes watching the entire time. most days he’d run the risk of running late for work just to fuck you over the bathroom sink, but some days he couldn’t, if he had an important case or a meeting. 

while you showered he brushed his teeth, listening to you tell him about your plans for the day, or even sing. sometimes he’d tell you what he expected to do that day in between spits of toothpaste.

he’d help you dry off once you got out of the shower, just as an excuse to touch you. to touch your soft skin, the shape of your body. he’d be thinking about it all day.

you’d get dressed while he gathered his badge, wallet shoving them into his pockets. he’d slip his gun into its holster.

you’d meet him at the front door, grabbing his keys from the key holder hung on the wall, using them as an excuse to slip them into his back pocket and pull him close.

“i’m gonna miss you, baby,” you pouted, as if you could convince him to stay. you knew you couldn’t. most of the time, anyway.

he pressed his forehead against yours, his prominent nose that you loved so much nuzzling your own. “i’m gonna miss you, too. but i’ll see you tonight. and i’ll call you on my lunch break.” he pressed his plump limps against yours.

there were different types of kisses that he gave you. these were his goodbye kisses. gentle and full of love, hesitant when he pulled away.

always followed by a kiss to your cheek before he pulled away from you.

he’d head out the door and you watched him, leaning against the door frame as he got in his truck and started it up. he’d wave at you as he pulled out, you blowing him a kiss and waving in return, waving until he was out of sight and the rumble of his truck got quieter.