You lay in bed a moment, staring at the violent rain beating against your window. You groan and turn away from the mocking downpour, curling up into a ball and pressing your head into your pillow. If there’s one thing that is certain about you, it’s the fact that you are definitely not a morning person. You reach your arm in front of you and bat at the duvet, expecting to make contact with your lover, only to be mocked with cold, empty sheets in return.

 Though you may not be a morning person, you know Bobby enjoys nothing more than getting up early to watch the sun rise. He always wakes up with so much energy, ready to tackle whatever the universe throws at him headfirst. “You just gotta carpe those diems babe.” he would say. You smile at the thought, nearly drifting back to sleep when the thunder strikes again, instantly shaking any sense of sleep you had left in you. Right. First rule from the universe: get up after the first sign.

 You swing your legs over the side of your bed, slide your slippers on and pad to the bathroom to freshen up. As you brush your teeth, you notice a picture frame leans at an odd angle against the wall. You tilt it back into place and smile as you read it. “Love is what would happen if you set friendship on fire.” Chelsea bought it for you and Bobby as a housewarming gift. She said it was one of her favorite quotes and thought it would be “sooo adorable” in your new apartment. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite addition to the place. You finish brushing your teeth and give yourself a once over in the mirror. Time to carpe those diems. 

You smell something incredible as you leave the bathroom and head into the kitchen, hearing the faint sound of music building up as you get closer. You stop at the archway, leaning against the wall as you take in the sight of him. Bobby stands over the stove, expertly flipping a perfectly golden omelette into the skillet. He looks calm and focused as he watches the omelette go up in the air, then sizzle back into the pan. He seems distracted enough, singing along to the melody that plays over Alexa. 

His locs are pulled up and away from his face, revealing his perfectly scattered freckles. He has his notorious apron tied snugly around his waist and his favorite pajama pants hang loosely against his hips. There are cartoons of muffins all around them and print that read, “I loaf you dough much.”

 You were at work when he rang you on FaceTime to show you the pajama set and both of you squealed with delight at how adorable it was. He ended up buying you and himself one and found that both of you always seem to match, even unintentionally when you wear them at night. You look down at your own pajama pants and pull them up a bit higher. 

The thunder strikes once again and you gasp. Bobby jumps at the sound and his eyes meet yours. His whole face instantly lights up. You’re taken aback immediately at how damn beautiful he looks in the morning. 

“Good morning, gorgeous.” He smiles, dimples on full display. 

“Morning,” you say crossing to meet him in the kitchen. 

He places the pan on the stove and meets you the rest of the way, bending his head down to meet your lips with his. Another clap of thunder resounds in your flat. 

“This rain is ridiculous,” you say breaking the kiss. Bobby looks out the window and watches the rain beat down against it. Flashes of lightning zip in the sky. His lips form into a pout and he shrugs. “I’m just saying, the weather never gets this bad in Glasgow.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Don’t switch things up now, you said you were fine moving out here in London with me.” 

He lifts his hands up in surrender with a coy smile on his face. “All jokes, darlin’. I’d move to Antarctica if it meant I got to be with you.” He plants a kiss on your cheek and faces the counter. You cross your arms and stand behind him. “Are you sure it’s not because you want to see the penguins out there?” He turns around, holding a steaming mug in his hand and ponders for a second. “Touché.” He reaches his arm out, offering the mug to you.

 “Yorkshire tea with two scoops of sugar for m’lady.” You accept it wordlessly, take a sip, and oh, he knows you too well. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the counter, enjoying your perfect cup of tea.

The music playing from Alexa begins to filter back into your ears and you bob your head along to the sound of Lauryn Hill, watching as Bobby opens the cupboard, pulling out seasonings and spices.  

“What are you making, chef?”

You can feel Bobby smiling with his back turned to you, as if he couldn’t wait for you to ask. He whirls around, rubbing his hands together. “Right,” he starts, attempting his best Gordon Ramsay impression. “Today, I am preparing a delectable Baked Florentine Omelette, topped with a decadent créme fraîse glaze.” 

  He opens the fridge and pulls out some strawberries. “For a touch of sweetness we have the most divine fruits, hand picked from the mountains of Chile by yours truly..”  

“Fancy.” You say, trying your best to take him seriously. 

“And the sweetest bit…” he trails off, cupping your face in his hands and gently kisses you. His lips are moist and soft and feel like a dream. Bobby takes his time as he kisses you again, making each slow drag of your lips count. You grip his apron when he pulls away, craning your neck up for more. Bobby smirks, lips ghosting over yours. Fucking tease. You close the distance and kiss once more, pulling his bottom lip in yours. He hums into your mouth and slowly pulls away, gazing at you beneath long eyelashes. He stares as though he’s considering something. Bobby’s hands trail down to your waist and he carefully looks you up and down. “Actually I’ll have my sweetest bit later.” He finishes, giving your butt a slap. 

“Bobby!” you yelp, but can’t keep the smile from forming on your face. He laughs, retreating back to the stove and sticks his tongue out at you over his shoulder. You can already tell despite the rain, today is going to be fun. Bobby has already gone back to cooking and singing loudly and off key to Can’t Take My Eyes off of You.

“So... you’re making all this without me?” You say with mock offense. 

When would I ever?” Bobby gasps, still fiddling with the heat on the stove. 

“Ya know I could always use your help, darlin’.” He turns, blinking innocently at you and how could he get more adorable. You roll your eyes, trying to suppress the smile forming on your face.

 “I guess I have nothing else to do.” You finally say. 

He claps and kisses you on the nose. “Excellent!” 

You take one more sip of tea and head over to wash your hands in the sink. “Just guide me in the right direction oh great master chef.” You tease, and oh, you can tell he is loving this already. “Right, now that I have my loyal apprentice with me, we will fulfill the task of making the best rainy day breakfast!” 

Bobby carefully flips the omelette in the pan. “I feel like we’re missing something though. What do you think, babe?” You think for a moment and open the fridge, staring at the food inside. You’ll have to go grocery shopping soon. “I kinda want french toast too.” You finally say. 

Bobby snaps his fingers, as if you just answered the question to his most troubling problem. “Of course! How could I forget your favorite?” 

You reach for the milk in the refrigerator and close it with your hip. “That’s why you need me by your side.” you say proudly. 

“Exactly.” he responds, taking some bread out of the package. 

“Alexa, play my Rainy Day Playlist.” 

“You have a playlist specifically for rainy days?” You ask, amused.

“You don’t?” he responds just as quickly, giving you a hip bump as Rock With You by Michael Jackson plays over the speakers. The two of you indulge in each other’s presence, rain forgotten. You and Bobby fall into a rhythm, singing somewhat in harmony with each other and weaving through the kitchen. You cut the fruit into slices and carefully assemble them on the plate in a crescent shape. Bobby begins dipping the bread into the egg yolk and it lands in the pan with a sizzle. 

The two of you go back and forth ordering Alexa to play songs and argue over which Beyonce album is the best. You knew it was Lemonade while Bobby swore up and down that it was Self Titled. “It was the beginning of her best era, love!” He exclaims. You both eventually agree that every Beyonce album is her best album. 

“Alright, we have two french toasts ready for landing.” Bobby says, holding it up in the air with his spatula. 

“Chef, yes chef!” You reach for one of your immaculately designed plates and hold it up next to him. Bobby dramatizes the sound of a ship flying in the air until crispy, golden french toast safely lands at the dock. 

“Awesome plating babe,” He says, marveling at your work. He stares, analyzing it more. “Butttt...I think it would look better if we just…” he trails off, picking up some strawberries and blueberries and forming it into a smiley face on the French toast.

 “It’s perfect!” you grin.

Bobby adjusts the heat once again and places the rest of the french toast into the pan. Another song fades away from Alexa and a new, awfully familiar beat begins to fade in. You stop dead in your tracks, mouth agape, and turn towards Bobby. Bobby nearly mimics you, and you both face each other. His eyes crinkle up and the biggest grin forms on his face. 

“You are ridiculous!” you say, bursting into a fit of giggles. 

“C’mon babe, this is our song!” Bobby says shimmying over to you. 

“No way, you’re ridiculous Alexa ski-”

Bobby cuts you off, belting out the lyrics and dancing around you in a circle. You cross your arms and roll your eyes, trying to stifle your laughter. Bobby continues singing, voice cracking and all as he takes both of your hands in his. He waves them up and down, trying his best to get you engaged. 

“Look, at least sing the chorus with me,” he pleads, smile unwavering.

You shake your head. 

Bobby tries to involve you one more time. When it is your turn to sing in the duet, he makes a grand gesture toward you, giving you the biggest smile and best jazz hands he can muster.

You remain silent and cross your arms. “No.”

  Bobby frowns and turns back toward the stove, admitting defeat. “You’re no fun.”

There is silence for what seems to last an eternity despite the song mockingly blasting through the speakers. You turn over to look at Bobby. His shoulders are slumped over and he lifelessly stabs at the french toast in the pan. You look down at the plate of french toast, the crooked strawberry smile staring back at you. You scoff. No. There’s no way you’re going to sing that song. The french toast continues smiling. It’s ridiculous and childish and- your favorite part filters in to the speaker. You turn to Bobby, who is drawing circles out of the oil in the pan, then back to the french toast. You pop one of the strawberries into your mouth, making the smile lopsided and grab a spoon. Here goes nothing. 

“...Creating space between us, ‘till we’re separate hearts…” Bobby slowly turns around to face you. You continue to sing, gripping the spoon and using it as a microphone. Bobby walks toward you one step at a time, as if he found a butterfly and didn’t want it to fly away. He chimes in with the next verse, stretching his arms toward you. 

“But your faith, it gives me strength, strength to believe..” You laugh as Bobby’s voice cracks at the end, then shriek as his picks you up and yells, “We’re breaking free!” 

Bobby lifts you in the air Dirty Dancing style and you spread your arms out, shouting the lyrics. You both can hardly sing through the song as both of you laugh and dance around each other. “We’re soaring!” 

“Flying!” Bobby stands on the counter, arms outstretched. “There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach.” You do an interpretive dance on the ground, and Bobby nearly falls off the counter laughing at you spin on the floor and wiggle your arms.

 In that moment you begin to forget about everything. You forget the rain. Forget about how much work you need to get done after this. Forget about having to be responsible and hold up your image and serve everyone but yourself. Bobby makes you forget about everything and allows you to live in the now.

 The song begins to end and Bobby hops off the counter and spins you around, then holds you in his arms. Your eyes flutter shut and the two of you sway back and forth. With Bobby you can be yourself. You can be as goofy and vulnerable as you want and he’ll accept you no matter what. Bobby brings out nothing but the best in you and you wonder how you got so lucky. 

Bobby presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You whisper. You feel nothing but a burning love. A burning love for no one but Bobby. Burning…

The shrill sound of an alarm cuts through your thoughts and your eyes open wide.

“Wow, that thunder is crazy.. Or is it the music? I don’t remember the song ending like that,” Bobby says. “Alexa ski-”

“No Bobby that's the fire alarm!” You turn toward the stove and see a fire erupting from the skillet. “The french toast!”  

He finally turns around and you both scream in unison. You run away in one direction and Bobby bolts for the door. “Wait, wait- smother it, smother it!” You say and stop pacing to breathe. Bobby stops opening the door, ready to leave everything behind. He frantically watches you reach for the lid and runs in the opposite direction, toward your office. 

You put the lid on top and watch the fire slowly simmer down. You finally release the sigh you didn’t realize you were holding in and call for Bobby. “Okay babe, the fire’s out, I got i-”

“Fire in the hole!” Bobby shouts aiming the fire extinguisher at you. “No, Bobby wait!” 

Bobby sprays it in every direction and all you can see is a white cloud blocking your field of vision and landing all over you. Cold, pressurized liquid coat your pajamas and you stand frozen in place, arms outstretched. Bobby finally opens his eyes and looks over to see the fire has already been dealt with. He slowly looks over to you and covers his mouth, horrified. 

“Yeah, yeah go ahead and laugh.” you finally say. 

He puts the fire extinguisher to the side, pauses and both of you burst out laughing. Bobby keels over, clutching his chest. “Oh my god, you look like a snowman!” 

After catching his breath, he approaches you, arms outstretched. His expression turns soft an marveling and he wraps you into a hug. “I’m sorry.” he says softly and kisses your forehead. You smile up at him and give him a kiss. 

“I’m sure the neighbors hate us already.” you say.