the mahogany of his duvet contrasting subtly with the silvery hair that gently blossomed upon his chest, stanford sat up with a low groan. he scrubbed a roughened hand over his aged face, settling his damaged glasses upon the broad bridge of his nose. ford's bleary-eyed gaze shifted to focus on his slumbering fiancé, nestled so endearingly into his side, adoration softening his tired features.

"hey, get up," he rasped, softly. "i'll make you some pancakes."