Page 22 of Daddy Bear Picnic

“I think that’s the sign we needed,” he said. “And I was almost falling asleep, so call that a second sign.”

At the wordsleep, I yawned. “You’re right, I—” Another yawn broke free. “I think I’ve done far too much today.”

“And we have to wake up early to go deliver those bird houses to the community center,” he said, kissing me on the back, his softened beard tickling me. “Move forward so I can get out.”

Daddy Bear had, without my knowledge, put the towels on the radiator that had been on. Something else I didn’t think about, but they seemed to be working ok, and I knew that because he wrapped me in one of the large, warm, fluffy towels, hugging me tight within it and drying me.

If I’d been asked to describe my perfect evening before tonight, I would’ve said it would be an evening of tea parties, paints, and snuggles… and I suppose the only thing that tonight lacked was the full tea party experience as well as the paints, but tonight had now set the standard for what I wanted in a perfect evening.

“You don’t have anything to wear to bed,” I said as I thought about which onesie I would wear.

“I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that I like to sleep naked,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that. And I hope that doesn’t tempt you too much, but you don’t have to be influenced, you don’t have to sleep naked.”

“Well, now that you say you’re not trying to tempt me, I might be even more tempted.”

“I wanna see you in a cute onesie, I’ve only seen the ones you wore at the B&B, but you did tell me you had a lot of them.”

I yawned. “I would put on a show,” I said.

“I’m not asking for that, but another time, we can.” He pulled me in and kissed my forehead, his beard was still wet as it touched my nose. “Where do you keep them? I can grab one I like the look of most.”

My onesies were the first thing I’d unpacked and folded neatly into the dresser. He came back a minute later while I finished drying myself. He’d grabbed the very patriotic one, covered in stars and stripes. It had been Independence Day a couple week ago, when it would’ve been perfect.

The bedtime routine was almost complete with brushing my teeth and filling a large glass of water to sit on the nightstand which I often gulped down first thing in the morning from having the drying mouth ever.

Finally, the bedtime story I’d been promised.

Daddy Bear climbed into the bed, all naked, it was nice to see how comfortable he was in his skin, almost like he walked around everywhere naked. And I couldn’t keep my naughty eyes from looking at his dick, although my body was far too exhausted to do anything about it.

“This book is calledDuck and the Dino,” he said as I snuggled to his chest. He flicked the book open and that book smell, so intoxicating had me going in for another yawn. “Duck and the Dino is about two friends born in the same nest and learning to accept each other despite their differences.”

“I like this one,” I said, my eyes already beginning to feel heavy.

As he read the book to me, he put voices on for each other characters. The soft rasp to his whispers had me asleep faster than I had ever fallen before. It might’ve also had something to do with the fact that he was a human pillow and I was laid on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

I didn’t remember much about the dreams I had, I was mostly on a cloud where everything was fluffy and cushioned. Idid, however, remember waking at the first light strobe through the window and Daddy Bear was nowhere to be seen. But I could hear him, his whistle, and the hum of radio crackle in and out from the distant.

Drinking my water from the worst dry mouth, I carried the glass and a teddy downstairs to follow the noise, and the new sense awakening to the smell of food. My stomach immediately growling like it was possessed by a demonic entity.

“You’re awake,” he said as I walked into the kitchen, seeing him frying bacon in his boxershorts and nothing else.

“Why are you cooking without a shirt?”

“I’m a trained professional,” he said just as the fat in the pan popped at him, forcing him to shimmy back a little. “See. I know what I’m doing. Did I wake you?” He asked, adjusting the old radio on the windowsill. I’d seen it, but I didn’t think it was even functional.

“Well, I trust you, but I don’t want you getting yourself all hurt by the oil,” I said, placing my empty glass in the sink. “It’s also early.”

He nodded. “You were still supposed to be asleep,” he said. “I told you, it’s gonna be an early morning. I’ve got to feed you, and then I’ve got get to the B&B to make breakfast. You don’t have to come, but—”

“Yes, I will, I told you I’d help with the bird houses, and I need to get my steps in,” I told him. “I feel like I don’t walk nearly as much as I did.”

He continued to cook the bacon and sausage on the hob. “Well, we’ll definitely be taking my van to the community center,” he said. “But I didn’t drive over, so we can get our steps in. Also, I saw some of your art when I did a little snooping.”

My body nearly seized. “You did?” It wasn’t a secret, but I didn’t really like to show it off unless it was ready, and half of the stuff I did was personally. “I—”

“It looks familiar,” he said. “There’s something to it that has a familiarity. I can’t place it, but it’s really good. Especially since you’ve only shown me picture on your from so far.”

Right now, he made me want to paint. All of his love and acceptance was a blessing, and I wanted to splatter and splash it across a canvas in blues and purples with a mix of sunrise orange. It’s how all my projects started, an emotional charge, and the canvas my outlet like I was being plugged in to create.

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