It's a snowy day here in Denver! So how's about a little steam to make you all toasty warm? Here's the epilogue for story; Mr. Count Halloween Guy, you know what to do!
Epilogue
The morning on February 15th came with a bit of sunshine. The weather, which had been cool for the last few months, seemed to be literally thawing and making way for at least a sunny day that would hold temperatures of at least sixty degrees.
Scooter awoke at his normal time, around sixty-thirty, though his body more than complained that the warmth and coziness of his bed would be lost to him should he decide to get out of it. Rubbing some of the sleep from his eyes, the red head rolled over to his back and stretched, ready to take the day on before stopping and narrowing his eyes.
This was not his bedroom.
It was one thing to wake up alone, something that Scooter had often done, but it was something completely different to wake up alone in someone else’s room and someone else’s bed. His eyes began to frantically search around for clues to where he was, while his brain tried to index exactly where he was, what he had done, and who he had done it with. His eyes fixed on something silky and green, which prompted a flood of memories to his brain, causing him to smile.
Oh yeah. He remembered now.
The sleepiness and panic that he had been experiencing only a short time ago disappeared, as steamy remembrances rose up in his mind. He was in his girlfriend’s apartment, which logically meant that he had awoken in her bed. The smell of breakfast was slowly filling his nostrils and senses, concluding that it must be she who was cooking. Stretching once more, Scooter ambled out of bed.
It was only a short walk from the bedroom to that of the kitchen/dining room combo and as expected, Scooter found his beautiful girlfriend standing at the stove, making breakfast. She had stolen the black dress shirt he had worn the night before and the stage manager was hard pressed not to immediately run over and take her in his arms.
Their Valentine’s night had been a mix of passion, exploration, and comfort; oh, they hadn’t completely cemented their relationship in a fully intimate manner, but they had done things, really good and fun things, and Scooter wouldn’t be lying when he said he hoped they could do those good and fun things again, soon, and on a more frequent level.
Standing and watching her now, Scooter was filled with emotion; he had never felt this way about anyone before and certainly, there were very few girls who felt this intense about him. He loved this woman, with every fiber of his felt being. He loved her.
Walking over her, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, hugging her tightly when she leaned back fully in his embrace. “Good morning,” she whispered, humming when she felt his lips brush across her neck.
“Morning,” he said, nuzzling her softly. “Love you.”
“I love you, too,” she sighed. “So much so that I’ve made your favorite for breakfast.”
Lifting his head, he noticed the plate of pancakes that sat off to the side, and that she was in the process of flipping one on the small skillet she owned. “Now I definitely love you.”
Chuckling, she turned the oven off, flipping the last pancake onto the readymade stack and moving the skillet to a back burner before she turned in his arms to give him a proper good morning kiss. Sighing in delight, she murmured, “A girl could get used to this.”
“So could a guy,” he answered, dropping another kiss on her lips. “I’m gonna need my shirt back at some point today.”
Groaning in disappointment, she pouted and said, “But I like your shirt.”
“So do I,” he chuckled. “And I like you in my shirt…and out of it.”
A smug smile formed on her face as she pressed herself closer to him. “I can tell.” Kissing him again, she then hugged him tightly. “When do I have to let you go?”
“Only for lunch,” he said. “But I’ll have to leave early, as I have to hit home and change.”
“You know your life would be easier if you just left some of your stuff here.”
The very suggestion made the red head tighten his hold on her; so he wasn’t the only person who wanted to experience last night again. The suggestion that he keep extra clothes in her apartment could only mean one thing – that she was of equal mind on his waking up in her home.
Pulling back to look at her, he whispered, “I’m definitely going to do that.”
“So am I,” she replied, smirking.
It’s one thing when your girlfriend suggests that you spend more of your nights with her, in her home; it’s another delight to discover that she wants to spend equal time in your home as well.
Needless to say, the pancakes were cold by the time they actually sat down for breakfast.
[hr]
Kermit hadn’t given him a specific time at which to come over for lunch, but it was such a frequent occurrence that Scooter assumed the frog had meant between twelve-thirty and one o’clock in the afternoon. Scooter was already running late as it was – trying to get his shirt back had proved…agreeable, if not distracting. Amanda had looked fantastic in his shirt and in case he thought the night before had been a dream, she had looked equally fantastic when he had gotten her out of the shirt.
That had been a rather…productive thirty minutes spent wisely.
He then of course had to rush back to his apartment in order to shower and change – Amanda’s suggestion of showering there had been tempting until the prospect of her joining him put him back another fifteen minutes – before speeding off towards Beverly Hills. He running about fifteen minutes behind when he finally pulled up into the driveway, getting out and grabbing his laptop bag as he did.
Using the key that Piggy had given him long ago, he made his way through the front door. Fully expecting one or both of the home’s occupants to be waiting for him in the living room or at least sitting at the table, the red head was a bit shocked to note how quite it was. He smelled coffee, so he knew someone must be up and therefore, his first stop was the kitchen.
Piggy stood at the kitchen island, taking her first sip of the morning’s coffee, still dressed in a fluffy blue robe. Nodding to the page as he placed his bag within the table booth across from it, she greeted him with, “Good morning, Scooter.”
“Afternoon, Piggy.”
Looking at the young Muppet in confusion, she turned her head to look at the clock on the nearby microwave. Sure enough, the time stated it was nearly one-thirty in the afternoon and not the ten o’clock in the morning that she thought it was. “Huh,” she murmured. “Didn’t realize what time it was.”
“Are you just getting up?” he queried, going to the fridge to look for the cream they usually kept for him and Fozzie for their coffee.
Watching him as he went through the motions of making his umpteenth cup of coffee for the day, Piggy replied, “Moi had a very late night.”
“I’m sure you did,” he retorted. “Please, say no more.”
“You’re one to talk,” she smirked. Flicking at the very visible love bite that was on his neck, she said, “You either had a very…productive night or you have some really large mosquitos in that apartment of yours.”
Wincing at the sting, the red head tried to rub the pain away. “I wasn’t at my apartment last night,” he muttered.
“Do tell.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he retorted. Nodding to her own love bite, she quipped, “Those mosquitos, as you say, obviously must be aware that you live here.”
Chuckling, the diva replied, “Oh, this isn’t from a mosquito. Frogs do bite, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“Is there nothing sacred between the two of you?”
“No,” the two answered. Turning, Scooter saw the familiar form of Kermit digging through the fridge, looking for something.
“Mornin’ Scooter.”
“Afternoon, Boss.”
The frog immediately popped his head from the fridge and looked at his assistant. “What?” he asked, surprised. Both Scooter and Piggy pointed to the microwave clock, which displayed the time at a little after one-thirty. “Geez, that’s pretty darn late,” he muttered. Looking at his page, he asked, “I assume you’ve had breakfast then?”
“Yes, I did,” the red head answered, immediately taking out his phone and dialing. “And I’m figuring that neither of you did, so I – Scooter the Magnificent – am going to rectify that for you.”
“You’re an angel,” Kermit replied, walking past and heading towards the coffee cup that Piggy was holding out for him. “A bratty angel, but an angel none the less. Did you get bit by something?”
“Something called Amanda,” Piggy giggled.
“I don’t want to know.”
“If only your live in wife felt the same way,” the page retorted, moving quickly out of reach of the diva, who had been making an aim for him.
“I think you’re more brat than angel,” she quipped.
“Keep that up and you won’t get a treat,” he shot back, smiling as he headed out onto the patio to place an order for delivery.
It was funny how things seemed to change, but always remained. Scooter didn’t know what the rest of the year held, for either him and Amanda or him and the Muppets, but at this moment, things couldn’t be better.
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