The eggs and sausage were almost ready when Ellie appeared in the entryway to the kitchen, still wearing his blue t-shirt and dark blue boxers. The sight of her in his clothes sent a proprietorial thrill through him, and he had to remind himself not to get too excited about it. Her hair was back in a side ponytail, although more mussed looking than last night, and her face was completely scrubbed clean. Last night he’d used some of his leftover make-up wipes to clean off a lot of it, but she’d cleaned off the remnants which had given her adorable raccoon eyes overnight. Good thing he’d still had some of his make-up wipes left over from his last tour, he didn’t think she would have liked sleeping with mascara all over her cheeks last night.

“Were you robbed or something?” she asked, leaning against the doorway.

“What?”

“Were you robbed?” she asked again, leaning back slightly to gesture at his apartment. Her gesture took in the couch, television, small dining table, and desk where his laptop rested. “You have no stuff. You have furniture, but no stuff.”

She seemed nervous, but like she was trying to be casual, all of which made her look incredibly adorable.

“Since I was always traveling on tour I never really accumulated that much stuff, although I have a bunch of old stuff in the attic at my parents’ house,” he said, smiling at her. “Does scrambled eggs and sausage sound good to you?”

“Do the scrambled eggs have cheese on them?”

“They can.”

Ellie smiled, looking a bit abashed. “I’m kind of a cheese fiend.”

“I think I remember that,” Michael murmured, grinning as he grabbed some cheddar from the fridge to grate onto the eggs. “You always had a string cheese with your lunch.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe you remember my cheese obsession.”

He shrugged as he grated the cheese onto the eggs and pulled down two plates. “It was cute. Do you want water, coffee, milk, or juice?”

“Just water is good,” she said, padding forward into the kitchen to take a plate from him and fill it up with food.

“Forks are in there,” he pointed at the drawer. “And fruit, in the basket over there if you want any.”

In a matter of minutes they were seated at his dining room table, her with her water and him with his coffee, digging into breakfast. Michael could see how nervous she was, the tension was set in her shoulders, but she was putting up a good front.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked, enjoying the way her cheeks immediately heated. “Any bad after effects?”

“No,” she said, pushing her eggs and sausage around on her plate, rather than meeting his eyes. “I’m sore, but a good kind of sore. It was a good scene.”