# Olivia Is For...

Title: Olivia Is For...
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Olivia
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Anonymous
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Olivia is for handholding and gazing into one another's eyes
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Lots of pillow talk
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Waking up late in the morning the next day, lazily settling to the couch half naked in oversized band shirts and playing video games on the couch
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Making pancakes and bacon and watching her face light up in delight as you bring the plate over to her. She eats, licking her stubby finger-claws of the sweet sticky syrup and tangy bacon residue left behind. Wiping her claw messily on her shirt before kissing you, leaving the faint taste of maple and grease inside your mouth - muted by the taste of her saliva
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Pulling you into a big hug before going back to your games
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Adjusting herself to sit upright on the couch so she can slump her head against your shoulder
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Switching her controller off, saying she's tired, and content to just watch you play. A few hours go by and it's well into the midday now
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Bridal carrying her to the bathtub and help her clean, stepping in as well. The large bathtub was an investment, but you were glad to pay for it if it meant spending an intimate moment with your wife like this.
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Bathing one another
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Splashing the water a little, both of you laughing like you're teens again
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Drying off and slipping into your casual clothes, setting the car up
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Taking her out on the hot summer day as you both walk around or rather, you walk and she is carted
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Going to the different stores, her lap turning into a mini-trunk holding all the bags. Multicolored plastic bags, badges of honor showing the various theatres of consumerism you both had waged war in
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A vanilla ice cream cone drips messily down her hand, droplets splattering her pants. Your own cone is in her other hand, of course - how can you eat and push her at the same time? You need two hands. You periodically stop the cart and lean forward, over her shoulder, as she giggles and brings the cone up to your lips the sweet taste of sugar, milk, and cream, paling in the taste of the kiss followed shortly after every time you do this. Eventually the sun sets and the sky and air turns orange. You both stop by an up-scale restaurant and order something nice, eat and talk a while. You ake the "drunk driving" joke for the millionth time as she orders a glass of wine. She genuinely laughs for the millionth time. Eventually the long return trip to the car is made, the sky growing a dark purple-black. The cool air replacing the hot and humid one from before, the chirping of cicadas making their love-song in the air and children running and playing. The street-shop lights glittering like jewels against the purple haze. The car takes off, the radio playing some cheap song. One hand drifts off the steering wheel and to the side, finding hers. The warm soft flesh pressing against yours, the hand that was the match for your own squeezing gently as she blinks sleep from her eyes. You carry her back to the bathtub, repeating the earlier process, though now subdued from exhaustion. You both slip into your nightclothes and getting under the not-too-warm, not-too-cold covers, your feet splaying against the velvety sheets your bodies huddling together as your hands clasp, her ring glinting in the dim light as another kiss is shared and you both drift off to a peaceful sleep.