Imagine James Franco letting you stay overnight.
You looked so peaceful, lying there in his bed. James had dreamed about seeing you there, like this, for months now, barely holding back the reins on his feelings. It was completely innocent, you were over with a couple of other people, you had some drinks, your ride home flaked on you so James said that you could stay over and you took his bed since it was more comfortable than the couch, which he took like a gentleman. You hadn’t even been drunk, just tipsy. He could have called you an Uber of course but - he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to have you here longer.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. You seemed to notice his presence somehow, sense it, because you started to stir, stretching your arms and your legs, smacking your lips and then finally opened your eyes to see him. Your head tilted with confusion as it took you a couple of seconds to remember where you were, and why you were there.
“Mornin,” You said with a smile that he felt right in his heart like a bullet. He could get used to your raspy voice saying that to him every morning.
“Morning,” He said in return, his mouth feeling a little dry. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, fine,” You nodded, sitting up, and then stretched your arms again, out to the side. It was just so damn cute. “No hangover, thankfully I didn’t drink enough,” you laughed.
“Good, that’s good,” He nodded. “I was thinking we could head out for breakfast or something. I don’t have much-”
“In a minute,” You said, averting your eyes from him to look to the digital alarm clock next to his bed. Your nose wrinkled. “It’s Sunday, we are not waking up at nine o’clock on a fucking Sunday. Get in here.”
He couldn’t believe it. You. Were in. His bed. Beckoning him now. His feet moved as his brain caught up, and he jumped into his own bed beside you, bouncing on his back, making you laugh. He shuffled his way up to the pillow, resting his head on it. You, however, decided to forgo the pillow and rested your head upon his chest. He suddenly felt nervous about you hearing his heartbeat like that. It must be beating fast, while his brain was feeling like it was overheating, a mess on both sides.
“You’re cozy,” You mumbled into his tank top. “We should do this again. Night Jamesy.”
“Morning, y/n,” He chuckled, unable to close his eyes, just watching you tuck back in, and feeling like the luckiest guy in all of LA.
Requested by: Anonymous
