Then Avery, up, and walking into my bedroom. He looked like he had to pee.
“Is Shaun awake?” he asked. “Not yet,” I said. “I’m going to wake him up,” Avery said, mischief twisting his mouth into a grin.
Avery, stepping into bed, then crawling across the mattress, then crawling on Shaun, then crawling until their faces were smashed together. A thousand kisses, from Avery to Shaun, on cheeks that need to be shaved. Shaun, now awake, or more awake, trying to return the “cuddle time,” which Avery shouted (read: demanded).
Avery curled his body so it fit into beside Shaun’s, mostly his chest. And Shaun, one arm thrown around Avery’s body, smiling, because these moments seldom happen, but when they do, they’re kind of magic.
“I have a new game. Can we play the new game?”
“When I fully wake up,” Shaun said.
The game, a Wild Rumus Wild Things game, with pewter monsters and several versions of Max and areas to conquer and scepters to win.
“I give it five minutes, and then he’ll want to do something else,” I said.
Because five minutes, in the world of Avery, with someone he’s grown to love, is also kind of magic.