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Booster sighed softly, the hot breath from his nose condensing. The cold was nipping at his nose and he was struggling to keep his eyes open.
A light wind moved through the barren trees slightly, pulling with it the last of the autumn leaves and lifting them through the air. One of the leaves drifted over the porch and landed close to his feet. Unable to resist, he stretched out his foot to crush the leaf and to hear the satisfying crunch. A small smile pulled across his face.
Still smiling, he turned to face the man leaning on his shoulder, one arms tucked close to his body the other curled around Booster’s bicep. Ted’s soft snores were muffled into the shoulder of his jacket. His face was relaxed and even with all the wrinkles around his eyes and grey hair, he looked younger. Even after all these years, hearing his soft snores and seeing his sleeping form warmed Booster’s heart.
He really couldn’t understand how Ted was able to sleep so deeply out in this cold. But he couldn’t deny that it was tempting. Ted’s body was warm against him and the bench didn’t feel so hard on his back.
Maybe a small nap, he told himself, as he leaned against Ted, eyelids heavy with sleep. He had barely finished convincing himself before he was out too, Ted’s snores lulling him to sleep faster than anything.
——
“Sir? You should wake up now. It’s freezing. You’ll catch a cold.”
Skeets voice jerked him awake and his eyes snapped open. He was suddenly aware of the pain in his neck and the faint burning in his back. He really needed to get a new porch chair, maybe something with padding.
He sat up, turning to wake up Ted as well. He was a deep sleeper which meant Booster usually got the job of carrying him to bed or gently shaking him awake.
“Te—,” he began but the rest of the name died on his lips. There was no one else on the bench. He’d been sleeping outside for hours, but he didn’t feel the cold until now, the chilling ice dripping down his spine, leaving him weary and heavy and alone.
“Is something wrong, sir?” Skeet asked, his voice somewhat hesitant.
“It was just a dream,” he said, his voice cracking.
He never got used to this. To a life without Ted.
He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palms until crescent shaped marks formed until he was able to close up the dull emptiness he felt in his chest.
He let out another deep sigh, now flexing his hands and rubbing his thumb over the gold band on his ring finger.
Then he stood up, the quilt falling to the floor.
“C’mon Skeet. We can probably catch the last few minutes of the game.”
He shuffled through the screen door and closed it gently behind him.