It had been a long while since Nick had woken me up. Most mornings, I was waking him or we were waking together. Of course, all patterns must be broken.

Nick was a blur, rolling onto the bed and over on top of me, holding himself over my slumbering frame with his palms pressed into the squishy consistency of the mattress. I leaned onto my back and shoved him away, where he sprawled into the floor. Limbs fanned out around him, he sighed, " Angel, wake up."

I grumbled. He sighed, sitting up - no doubt using his wondrous stomach muscles - and drew his fingers through his hair. Then, he set his head against the bed, and cast his eyes towards the corner of the room. Somewhere, dance music floated about; I wondered if he had found the classical channel.

Much to my displeasure, I reached out and ruffled his hair, "alright, I'm up."

" Glorious!" He sprung up, grabbing my exhausted frame and pulling me to my feet. I stumbled a few steps, and he straightened me with hands on my shoulders, " I'm going to go make breakfast."

" I'll go get ready." I yawned, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. Around this time I realized Nick was already dressed. The cheeky bastard was always prepared, with his t-shirt that had a filthy peace sign set on fire, down to his rolled-once black jeans, " Where's your beanie?"

He winked, " your bag."

I rolled my eyes, to tired to catch his drift. I stumbled into his shoulder on my way back to the bedroom, but didn't make a big deal out of it seeing as he'd tease me if I did.

Closing the door behind me, I dug around for a pair of shorts and tank-top, anything to free me from this long sleeved shirt and sweats. After I was changed - lovely little tank top that hung loose on my frame and was sprinkled with stars, and a light blue pair of shorts that free my legs - I walked out and quite literally draped myself on Nick. My arms were wrapped around his waist and my head was resting on his shoulder. I could hear his smile as he spoke, his hands falling back behind him and linking behind my back, " Hey Angel."

" Arson." I mumbled back, too tired to truly form words.

He turned his head, pressing his lips to my hairline before turning around in my arms and taking my hands in his, " dance with me?"

" I suck at dancing."

He winked, " that's alright." Then he lifted me up, setting me on his boots, " trust me, you're a natural.

I rolled my eyes, but leaned into him and let him away us. Suddenly, the classical song so graciously filtering through the speaker morphed into something along the lines of... Tango.

Jesus help me.

And I was dipped. Nick suspended me above the ground and smiled; I could have sworn his teeth sparkled. Next thing I knew, we were back up and I was be spun into his chest, shoulder blades against his figure. He shuffled us to the right, before stopping and dramatically angling our arms in front of us. I flipped in his grasp, and we took big, Goliath steps to get to the other side of the van, where we switched again and started back the other direction.

" Nick!" I managed, between exasperated laughs. Each step, each swan-like swoop and twirl, was lead by Nick. His arm hooked around the small of my back, his smile practically glistening in the light coming through the windows, his soft dark locks finding their way onto his forehead. Every time he leaned us down, my eyes would trail to his lips; the shape, the faint chapped skin, the way the moved against his grin. Damn, I was losing myself.

He straightened us, my frame flush against his. His breath was minty, " Angel." He cooed, voice bloody angelic.

I could feel myself melting - waxy piles of skin folding over the cage of his arms. Disgusting: yes. Metaphoric: also yes. I'm sure Nick wouldn't enjoy his crush disintegrating in his arms, no matter how sickly romantic it is.

His fingers slid up, catching a strand of hair and twirling it absent-mindedly. I placed my hands on his chest, pointer fingers relaxed on his collarbone, " I'm still hungry, you know."

He rolled his eyes, before twisting me around a final time so my back was pressed to his side. Lacing our fingers, he walked us to the center of the kitchen and asked, " what's on the menu?"

" Something edible, preferably." I teased.

He flicked a strand of my blond hair, " too bad, i'm a big on eating recycled cardboard."

" You're so hardcore, you chew gum with the wrapper on."

He nodded, in agreement, " I'm so hardcore, the shower uses me to bath."

" You're so hardcore," I started, pulling out the eggs and placing them on the counter, " you scrambles eggs with your mind."

" I'm so hardcore, I don't do so often because I don't show off." He retorted, cracking four eggs and spreading them on a hot pan. Using a spatula, he stirred the yolk and white until it was a light creamy yellow.

" You're so hardcore," I braided a lock of hair while thinking, " you don't need suits tailored. They make sure they fit."

" nice one." He thought about it, looking down at the eggs. Dark pieces of hair drifted against his forehead. It was so foreign, seeing him without a beanie - his hair was normally pulled back, tucked safely away in the cap. Now it was free, soft, and arresting, " I'm so hardcore, I read with my eyes shut."

Damn, I thought. That took real hardcore-ness; not just anyone could do that. With a sigh, I held up my hands, " you got me there man. Can't beat that."

" I'm just that hardcore." He noted, flipping around the eggs so they became all scrambled - they looked like dyed yellow clouds, trying to float up but always getting denied by the giant hand of a spatula.

Leaning against the counter, I tilted my head back and studied the ceiling, " if there's a hardcore, what's softcore?"

" That can be taken so many ways Angel." Arson replied.

I slugged him in the arm, " Maturity, please."

" No seriously. It's generally used as a term for pornography." He replied, tone simply professional.

My cheeks flushed to a fiery red, " oh... how do you know that?" I said, incredulously.

Nick chuckled, " I was sixteen, and Jericho said let's go for it. Honestly, I don't see the appeal."

" really?"

" Yeah. It's kind of awkward, watching other people go down on each other." He admitted, shamelessly. His tone held not a single care.

" But Jericho?"

" He's alright with it, not really his cup of tea... He prefers a more hands on approach." He hinted.

Right, Jericho was a fuckboy.

I nodded, " well then. Glad I asked." Mentally, I reminded myself to not ask questions, again, that I don't want to know the answer to.

Nick smiled, award winning and everything, " you're adorable, Angel."

Suddenly, my cheeks warmed again - against my will. If it were up to me, my stomach would be boiling, not my face. Anger seemed way more pleasant than this silly little crush thing called attraction. I wasn't about that life, " yep, i'm a baby giraffe. bloody irresistible."

" baby giraffes are the shit." He scooped some eggs onto a plate, handing it to me with a pearly white smile, " bon appetit."

Taking the platter, I shook my head in time with my humored snickers, " thanks Arson."

He winked, " anytime."

Then we sat on the couch, my legs curled under my and his set out in front of him. His laces, as always, were untied. Shoving a fork-full of eggs into my mouth, I sort of melted again at the savory taste. He even made eggs seem five star.

After we finished, the food mixed with playful banter, he took our plates to the sink and said, " I've made plans for today, Angel, so no detours." He shot me another wink.

I sighed, " yes sir."

Taking a seat in the driver's side, he started the car. I grabbed my book and curled up on the couch, deciding it was better to drink in words rather than sit and snack in the passenger seat.

_____

" angel, up and at 'em." Nick's hand gently shook my shoulder.

Sitting up, I allowed myself to be amazed by the fact I had taken a nap. The book had fallen on the ground, the pages splayed against the makeshift carpet. Taking Nick's hands, he pulled me to a stand before crouching and grabbing my novel. With one of his award winning smiles, he flipped it shut and tossed it to the counter.

While he smugly worked his way around me, to the exit of the van, I checked my phone for any or all missed messages.

guuuurl give me the scope on nicky. and WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME? i cant wait much longr. :(

What are your thoughts on water polo?

okay so what is water polo? I need to know before I respond to G.

hey. How are you? btw, if Gavin says anything about water polo, say you hate it pls. it's a long story.

Well, dear Ellie, a lot of things are long stories. The trick is learning how to shorten them. Thumbs sprinting across the screen, I quickly replied to my new array of friends, each message meant to be kind and somewhat sarcastic - it was my personality, after all.

GURL. I know, I know. long story short, he looks great with and without his batman beanie ;). and I DON'T KNOW. whenever my dd decides. we're still besties for the resties though, don't worry.

I wish I knew. ever heard of google?

I got time. *thumbs up emoji*

Give me a second, i need to use google.

To say I was fond of them all wouldn't be an exaggeration - save for Ellie, I didn't have a solid opinion on her quite yet. Chasity, being my quirky friend from the coffee shop, and my first (at one point only) friend in NYC. Gavin, the guy I kissed in spin the bottle who ended up being super epic and worth anyone's time. Nora, with the dog who caught the Frisbee, who was crazy cool. It felt so nice to have friends, people, rather than just netflix. The outside world wasn't so terrible when there were people in those missing organs' places.

Nick was a pretty big organ for me. What organ, I wasn't sure. I just knew he was there, lounging in the middle of them all with a wicked attractive smile and a batman beanie. and maybe a piano.

Suddenly, his hand was gripping mine and we were exiting the van. I, struggling to pull on my converse, nearly tripped and ended up in his arms. His grin told me he didn't mind - of course not. Before I had recollected my posture, I looked up to see a museum.

It wasn't a small museum with awkward blue shingles and baby-shit green carpet. This thing was huge. I mean mom after the bake sale huge. It stretched over the whole block, stood at least four stories high, and had it's name written across it's doors in all caps, Times New Roman, font.

Museum of Everything: All that Is

I looked over at Nick, eyes wide. That museum was larger then someone who regularly super-sized their meals at Micky D's. He winked, lacing our fingers and racing us up the large steps. as we went, the tufts of breeze floated through my hair and his, musing the styles. A lovely smile flowered across my lips and my cheeks probably heated a little bit but that didn't matter. Nick had taken me to a museum, and knowing him he'd probably want to take a picture of everything - or touch it.

Once inside, he paid the kind - but also large - lady at the desk and walked us through the sensors. Then he spread his arms, motioned to the vastness of the insides, " welcome to All That Is!"

Nick could be a talk show host. He had the dashing smile, the charisma, and definitely the body for a suit. Plus, he knew how to be out there, how to be the person you saw in a crowd. Shoving him in the side playfully, I said, " thanks Arson."

He smiled naturally, and the way it lit his face sent shivers up my spine, " of course, Angel."

Linking our arms, he marched forward, " where to first?"

" dinosaurs!" I said, without a second thought. giant fossils that towered over my head; I was down with that.

He took a sharp left and marched forward much like a Nazi. I couldn't stifle my snickers, but ended up joining him. As we marched (Hitler would be proud) we turned another angled corner. I froze.

They were huge, the tops of their heads nearly hitting the high dome-like ceiling. My arms fell from Nick's and I walked forward in amazement. The bones were a mix between brown and white, tingled with what looked like dirt but probably was just age and smoothed by whatever ground they had been buried in. I was aware of Nick's phone making a camera click noise, but I didn't mind. The awe on my face was probably picture worthy.

Then he stood behind me, arms looping around my waist and head resting on my shoulder, " They're so big."

I nodded, unable to form words. Honestly, I wasn't even embarrassed by the way my jaw hung open a bit. My hands went up to his, and we both looked up at a vast long neck, the notches of it's spine carrying it's head all the way to the golden ceiling. Before I could slap his hand away, Nick reached out and brushed his fingers on the bone.

I took a harsh step backwards, sending us booth nearly to the floor. Laughing, he caught us - well, me - and said, " what was that about?"

" It says no touching!" I replied, flabbergasted.

" so?" He arched a brow innocently, before leaning over the glass edge again. Instead of touching it a second time, he grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, " just do it. I mean, how else will you tell someone you touched a dinosaur skeleton?"

" Um, by lying?"

" but without lying." he added, in all seriousness.

I sighed, but obliged, reaching forward and poking it before crossing my arms over my chest. He ruffled my hair, " see? wasn't that hard, was it?"

He was one to talk; I could have sworn the thing shifted. Instead of worrying about it further, he took my hand and we started to the next room.

Water Dinosaurs.

Sadly, note the sarcasm, these were all in glass cases so Nick couldn't touch them. He did look a little defeated. Never the less, it was wonderful to see their winding bodies in the floor, or on the wall. The giant fish was stellar, and Nick made me take a picture of him and it. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't adorable.

The next room was just as cool: weaponry. Ancient Native American spears hung up on the walls, showcased under little cylinders of light. on the other wall, knifes and guns from Civil War times glinted, along with WWI and WWII ammunition. It was quite amazing, really, to see so much history collected all in one place.

Or, you know, in Nick's hands.

As soon as I turned around, he had a spear, spinning it like he was some ancient god of war. He made that awkward deflating-balloon sound most ninjas made, and stood the pose for it, one leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent behind him just slightly. He held the spear above his head, like he might throw it.

I gasped, " Arson! what are you doing?"

" having fun." He replied, spinning and slicing the air like the spear was a sword.

I slapped my forehead; it took a special kind of stupid... before i could finish my thought, he was setting the spear down and racing for the guns. Confederate rifle in hand, he lifted it and aimed at one of the glass cases. his pointer finger rested on the finger.

Grabbing the gun, I set it back on the hooks and gave him a stern glare, " they're no touch, Nick."

In the middle of my sentence, he pressed his lips to mine, breathing in whatever words I was going to scold him with. Then he pulled back, leaving me winded and him smiling, " Angel, dear, lighten up."

Then he took the gun back off the hooks and rested it in my open palms. I sighed through my nose, and looked down at the elder metal. Not everyone had the courage to remove the display, nor aim it.

So, swallowing hard, I turned and aimed it at the doorway, and pulled the trigger. There was a small click, but nothing came out. I pretended there was a recoil and when, " boom." softly.

He smiled, as I set it back down, then faked being shot, " awe, you hit me!"

He felt back onto the way, nearly hitting a display. I laughed, just as he went for one of the pirate swords and held it out, " aye, matey, have you what it takes to take me as a ghost?"

" duh." I said, grabbing the same spear he had gone for a while before. Holding it at my front, he jabbed with the sword. I used the spear to block. It went on for a bit like that, sparring back and forth. he tried a shuffle step, which was admittedly pretty attractive, and nearly stumble. We switched weapons, I slashing at the spear and him jabbing at the sword. Faintly, I heard the sound of wood straining, then crack.

The spear had accidentally hit a pedestal, cracking in half. Nick looked shocked, then laughed in short huffs before smiling awkwardly and slowly putting it back on the wall - ish. I put the sword back and he took my hand. Running out of the room, we both laughed to ourselves.

Yes, we had just broken a relic - but it felt amazing. Not because we were rebellious, but because we were together, doing stupid stuff, making memories, being us. People got so caught up on the past and the future that they forget the present. It was kind of sad.

The next room was just as lovely, Victorian dresses and headsets. It took much precaution, but Nick had someone gotten a fat lady dress off a stand and had put it on, " hey Angel could you do up my corset."

Turning around, I gasped, " Nicholas Dean Arson are you kidding me?"

" I think that one's your size." he pointed to a gold and white dress (a/n because swag - this is not a reference. get over the dress thing, seriously). I sighed, as he tied himself up awkwardly and put on the headset and gloves, " I'm fabulous as fuck."

Laughing, I shook my head and held my stomach, " I need a picture of this."

Taking out my phone, I snapped an image before he started posing. It was just gold - so much so I started taking a video instead of images and let him think I was snapping. AFV I was on my way.

Tucking my phone away, I said, " I conquer."

He motioned to the other dress, " Join me."

" Just the headset."

" You're weak."

" I have more dignity than you."

Putting on the headset, I turned on my frontal camera and made a partially amused look. he smiled all cheesy and rested his head against mine. snap. Nick shot me a wink in the frontal camera, just a moment too soon. in the picture his right eye was shut and his mouth flashed pearly whites.

Large feathers sprouted from my head, dressed with creamy pearls and off-white lace. The tan under-fabric barely accented the light colors, but it looked so graceful it didn't matter. The detail was exquisite on Nick's fat-lady dress too. Soft dribbles of green twisted between satin and silk, the gloves smooth and shiny. If Nick were a woman of massive size, it would have been flattering. Instead, he was a toned young adult in a saggy dress from the corset age. In the picture, the breast of the dress sagged because, obviously, he didn't have the boobs to fit it.