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The sound of breathing in your ear awakes you from a short sleep, as does the smell of someones smelly breath and light sweat. Your eyelids flicker for a few moments before you decide to open them fully, and you gasp when you’re met with bright orange, a slight ‘oomp’ sound while you scoot back. Dirk laughs while you take a moment to gather your bearings and check the time, rubbing your eyes furiously. 8:48 AM.
Instantly, you roll back on your back and groan softly to yourself, damn him for being such an early riser and a loud breather. “Jake,” His voice coos instantly, arm wrapping around your waist. “You have ten fingers and ten toes and I love you.”
"Mmn." You don’t give much of a reply and instead take interest in his neck, it smells nice from layers of improperly washed cologne. Dirk may be a hygienic person, but he always forgets his neck for what you think may be this reason. His hand moves across your waist, to your lower back so he can pull you closer to whisper in your ear. "Since we’ve met you’ve said you loved me 937 times."
This catches your attention, but instead of being alarmed you just laugh, and smile with a shake of your head. “Is that so.” He nods, still breathing softly. “You’ve kissed me 883 times,” His lips brush against your neck, and you shift, moving your arms around his torso. “You've hugged me 792 times, you-“
"Dirk." Your voice stops him, and he blinks, (You know because you feel his eyelashes on you.) "What?"
You move away from his embrace a bit, enough to press your forehead to his. “Why?”
"What?"
"Why. Why did you count that is."
He gives you a little smile, and you frown because you know he’s not taking you seriously. “I count,” He starts, “Because it matters to me. We've been together for almost four years now,” The thought makes you smile, your eyes closing while you listen. “But before four years ago, I still loved you. I’ve loved you from the day I was birthed, the day I could speak, the day I met you, the day I could count I did.” He brushes under your eye with the pad of his thumb. “I've counted the freckles on your face, 212, I've counted the number of shorts you own, 23, I've counted the amount of movie posters you own, 53, I've counted how many times we’ve made love, 834. Do I need to go on?”
You think, think about your time with Dirk. Not just the romantic time, but .. the pre-time. High school that is. He was never the popular kid, always *that* slightly off to keep him out of the cliques. Always too different. His nickname was freakboy, and you were never one to call him that, but you never stopped it either. A bystander by term, a bystander by life. They’d josh you about it, laughing and pointing at the freak Strider’s. The loser kids with no parents, the ones with acne, the human walking sticks. And you, Jake English, soccer star, lady-killer, had done nothing.
But he watched you, you were aware. And oddly enough you weren't… especially bothered by it. He seemed logical, smart, and from what you had heard, snarky. So you approach him eventually, and it had been.. the start of something you couldn't quite explain. You can’t even remember the words spoken, but the scenery stuck. The bite of autumn had begun to stick, spreading through the spring trees like wildfire, inflaming green with shades of orange and red much like Dirk’s eyes had done to yours. Even if you did have to look up to see him. The wind had nipped at your cheeks too, the chill bringing sweaters and he had offered you his even though he was thin as a twig and the wind would probably freeze him to death just because you had forgotten yours and-
"Jake." And it’s his voice that snaps you from your thoughts this time, and you open your eyes quickly and make a soft noise of recognition. "Mm?"
"Oh. I thought you fell asleep." You shake your head and he smiles, "Good."
There’s a minute of silence that’s not awkward at all, and he opens his mouth before closing it, pursing his lips, then parting them. “Why are you with me?”
You must have looked puzzled, because he shrugs and gives a little half-smile. “You’re the most gorgeous, intelligent, adorable man I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, talking, being with, and… I’m just.. Dirk.”
"Well, there are a plethora of reasons I’m with you my dear. And they’re all things I love about you." You move your hands to curl in his hair, "I love the way your hair looks when it’s down, I love the way you look when you read something.." He starts to smile and speak but you hush him with a finger. "I love when I tell you I’ve made dinner and you wrap your arms around me and squeeze my sides. I love.. I love how caring you are, how the moment you get a call from whomever you instantly go and help. I love your intelligence, I love the way you dress, I love the way you smell, I love the way you kiss me when you fu- make love to me." You gulp and continue. "I love the way you pay attention to detail and continue to love my the way you did in highschool, how I can trust you to give me your sweater when I’m cold like you did on that first day-"
He interrupts you, “You remember that?” Dirk’s smiling, with teeth and everything. “English you magnificent fucker, that was so dorky of me!” You nod and roll your eyes. “Also the stupidest. You got sick with the flu and the next day-”
"You came over and fed me soup and we talked for hours, and your-"
"And my Grandma told me when I got home, "You look like you’re in love." You shake your head, laughing. "Yes, Dirk. I remember."
He sighs happily and lets his eyes close. “I’m incredibly absolutely magnificently in love with you.”
He looks gorgeous like this, for once his brow not wrinkled with constant thought. You don't have to ask him to know he's at peace with his surroundings, his hair falling across his forehead. You brush it away and kiss under his eye.
"I love you too Dirk."