I wish you'd write a fic about Serena Campbell having the morning off and spending the time rolling around her house in comfortable woollen socks and a whole bunch of knitwear and drinking her favourite type of tea (and maybe sharing the morning w Bernie but also much earlier in her time line is v good too) and her just generally being happy w good morning vibes, pretty please :)))
With no alarm to herald the start of the day Serena wakes slowly, drifts back and forth in that delicious liminal space between awake and asleep, cocooned in her duvet, face buried in soft pillows. When she finally opens her eyes properly, blinking against the winter sunlight spilling through the gap between the curtains, it’s still not really late, far from a lie in by anyone’s standards, but certainly late for a Wednesday.
She yawns, stretches luxuriously, and smiles. Midweek mornings off always feel so illicit, like she’s skipping school, the knowledge that the rest of the world is hard at work while she doesn’t have to be in for hours yet.
She doesn’t stay in bed much longer, gets up and tiptoes across the cold floorboards to dig out a pair of fuzzy socks, wiggling her toes happily when she slips them on. Next is a thick woolly jumper pulled on over her pyjamas, the sleeves long enough that if she curls her fingers her hands vanish inside. Much better.
Downstairs she switches on the kettle and then the radio, smiles when Vaughan Williams pours out. Spoons leaf tea into the warmed pot, leaves it to steep while the toast grills. Butter and jam (raspberry, seedless) and a glance at the headlines in the morning paper, then fresh water in the pot and she relocates. The radio has moved onto Wagner now and it doesn’t feel like a Nibelung kind of morning so she exchanges it for a CD of Bach, curls under a blanket in her armchair with her book and a cup of Darjeeling in the perfect shade of amber, relishing the empty hours in an empty house.