Chris Evans Imagine: Sleepy Cuddles
Anon request for Chris being sleepy and vulnerable. You can’t resist him when he’s like this!
You were crouched on the kitchen floor and had your head inside one of the cupboards as you stacked up the freshly dishwashed saucepans. This didn’t stop you, however, from hearing the front door open and close, followed by the scurrying of four paws on the hardwood floors as Dodger ran to greet his favourite person in the whole universe.
Unusually, no greeting for you was forthcoming. Even more unusual was that Chris hadn’t come to find you, which he normally did when he got home, to tell you about his day, or to ask you about yours, or even just to give you a hello kiss. Slightly puzzled, you stood up straight, closed the cupboard door and went in search of your errant boyfriend.
Walking down the hall, you poked your head through the doors of the lounge and study to no avail. Eventually, you found him slumped in the middle of the sofa in the TV room, cap pulled down over his eyes, chin pressed against his chest and fingers absentmindedly running over Dodger’s belly where he’d rolled over next to Chris.
‘Hey sweetheart,’ you asked gently, taking in his lethargic form, 'Everything okay?’
A low rumble drifted out from under the cap, 'Mmhmm, just tired.’
'Anything I can do?’ you replied, 'You want something to eat? A drink? I put some bottles of beer in the ice box about half an hour ago?’
Chris just shook his head in silent reply and opened his arms in your direction, still not looking up.
You smiled to yourself and rolled your eyes fondly; he was such a baby when he was tired. Without a word you folded yourself into his arms and removed his cap before wrapping your own arms around his shoulders and tucking his head under your chin, cushioning it against your chest. Dodger was kind enough to move momentarily while you spread your legs out across Chris’ lap and over the length of the sofa before he settled back down in the world’s smallest gap between your knees and the back cushions of the chair, squeezing himself under Chris’ arm.
Chris sighed deeply, one hand sliding into the back pocket of your jeans and the other tangling itself in Dodger’s fur.
'Better?’ you asked, kissing the top of his head and breathing in his clean, masculine scent. You leaned forward slightly to look at his face for a second and saw that his eyes, although closed, were puffy and tinged purple from exhaustion.
'A million times,’ he replied quietly, turning his head fractionally to leave a soft, tingling kiss on your collar bone, 'Love you, pumpkin.’
'Love you too, sweetheart.’