62 . lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes , still mumbling half-incoherently , not wanting to wake up .
Rolling over, they stir right at about the same time Scaro does--presumably because he stirs to begin with. They don’t realize, as they’re still very much in some delirious, sleepy state, that they move to him with a soft but certain motion; arms wrap around his chest, their frame sweeps into his back, face flush to his hair, mumbling a hum and pressing their lips to his face.
There is a small fear they’ve had; one that isn’t very founded or sound in any evidence, but--that nags them now, like the remnants of bad dream. The idea that--once he leaves now, that he’ll be gone forever. That he’ll move on, and he’ll be done with them, and he’ll disappear, and they’re not ready for that yet. They cling to him, pepper him with kisses, want him to stay for breakfast and a good-bye--just to make it last for a little longer.
They doze back off the next minute, still attached to him like velcro. Good luck getting out of this one, Scaro.