The soft sound of footsteps roused George from his deep slumber, and lazily he blinked open his dark eyes to peer languidly at the source of the noise. A lazy smile tugged at his lips as the culprit, a petite, brown haired girl was caught frozen in his stare.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," Iris whispered, breaking the silence that had engulfed the room. Carefully she climbed onto the large bed and curled up in an impossibly small ball at his side, head leaning on his bare chest.
"Don't be sorry luv," he murmured sleepily, still poisoned with grogginess. Her reassuring warmth seeped into his side and once again he had to remind himself that she was really his. After all the years of waiting on the sidelines, all the years of wiping her tears and listening to her rant about the latest asshole, she finally got it.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, her words tangling in the all too familiar American accent.
"You." he answered truthfully, a playful smile on his mouth