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”i really love waking up to you.”
There’s a hand brushing through his hair. It’s gentle and steady and careful and every so often, fingernails will scratch across his scalp. Goosebumps race down his arms at the sensation. He’s warm, exceedingly so, but it feels just right. Despite still being half asleep, he knows part of it is his own doing, for being so naturally warm-blooded. The other part of it…
”i don’t usually get to see you this peaceful. unguarded.”
Roman’s eyelids flutter open. The room is dim. Fairy lights are strung through the metal headboard, winking slowly through every color of the rainbow. His pillow is sturdy, far less plush than any of the ones he actually owns. A few more minutes, he thinks, and then he’ll figure it out. Besides, the attention to his hair is so nice right now, and he doesn’t want to disturb it.
“are you awake? no rush, i just wanna see those pretty green eyes of yours.”
The events of last night filter in piece by piece through the tired haze of his brain. The other part of being so warm is that he’s not in bed alone. The bruises from yesterday return with a vengeance and Roman hisses through his teeth. He’d come so close to losing that battle… Admittedly, a Hydra-Medusa had been one of his more dangerous ideas. Every limb aches but every limb also feels like it is made of jelly and he doesn’t think he could move, even if he wanted to.
”i wonder if kisses really do make everything better…”
Lips press against his forehead. They travel down the rest of his face. Not one space of skin is missed but it isn’t until they brush ever so lightly against his own lips that Roman finally fully wakes up. His bleary eyes rove up until he’s staring into the earnest blue-eyed gaze of Patton. Oh, his mind croons, Patton.
”good morning, handsome.”
Roman’s aches and pains are set on the back burner. Nothing could possibly hurt in the presence of Patton and, ah, would you look at that?
“Kisses do make everything better,” Roman says, hoping it sounds as suggestive as he’s trying to make it.
Patton’s soft smile curls into something more mischievous.
“Is that so?” Patton asks and he’s got the lilting tone down just right.
He ducks his head and presses his lips to the hollow of Roman’s throat. He trails along the bare skin, leaving delicate touches on Roman’s collarbones and taking care to not miss a single freckle. Roman, to his credit, keeps his composure for twenty whole seconds. He only makes it that long because his sleep addled brain has yet to catch up.
“Patton,” Roman squeaks.
“Hmm?” Patton hums against his skin and the vibrations are barely noticeable but it short circuits Roman, anyway.
Patton shifts in their cocoon of blankets so that they’re lined up exactly. Roman understands belatedly that Patton’s chest had been his less plush than normal pillow. Patton’s hand comes to a stop at the back of Roman’s neck, where his fingers curl into Roman’s hair.
“Cat got your tongue?”
Roman’s never blushed much. He’s always been the one getting others to blush, with his extravagant compliments, and heartfelt gestures, and flirtatious personality. Patton, though… Patton is very good at coming across as innocent. It’s usually only ever in the presence of one other when he plays coy, dropping teasing comments or nicknames, and pretending afterwards that he doesn't understand why they’re flustered. His absolute favorite reactions come from Roman.
“You’re so pretty,” Patton whispers, scooting closer, which Roman didn’t think possible. Their noses are centimeters from touching. “Lady Luck must be fond of me.”
“Why’s that?” Roman whispers, too awestruck by the tenderness in Patton’s eyes to say much else.
“I’m here with you,” Patton answers simply, as if it’s obvious.
He leans forward, eyelids slipping shut, as he presses his lips to Roman’s. Roman, who is simultaneously melting in Patton’s arms and drowning in Patton’s affection, responds without hesitation. It is sweet and slow and nice and Roman never wants it to end. Eventually, though, they both do need to breathe, and Patton pulls away. He blinks and Roman feels Patton’s eyelashes brush against his skin.
“Butterfly kisses,” Patton giggles and if Roman weren’t already at the end of his rope, this really does it.
Roman draws away from Patton just enough to bring his hands up (one of which has been draped over Patton’s waist this entire time and the other folded underneath his head) and covers his face with them. Patton, always so patient and thoughtful, waits. Slowly but surely, Roman squeals in a way that is reminiscent of a whistling kettle. The sound has Patton smiling so wide, it almost hurts.
“Patton,” Roman whines and Patton can just barely see Roman’s red cheeks behind his fingers. “Are you trying to kill me, dearest?”
Patton twirls a strand of Roman’s hair around his fingers. “Only with kindness,” he concedes, “is it working?”
He kisses Roman’s knuckles and is thrilled at the high pitched squeak Roman emits. He trails his free hand along Roman’s shoulder blades. The pair of them have always been warmer than the others which leads to some of the coziest cuddles. Roman’s skin is scattered with freckles, from his constant time spent in the sun on all of his quests. Patton’s tend to stick to his face, spread across his cheeks and nose. Roman likes to make constellations out of them whereas Patton likes to try and count all of Roman’s freckles; he claims it impossible to ever get the right number, just like it is impossible to name all of the many, many things he loves about Roman. That never fails to earn Patton a very nice picture of Roman turning bright red and stammering out an endearing mix of compliment and gratitude. (It usually went like: “I— you— cute” to which Patton congratulates Roman on saying such nice things about himself. It just makes him blush even more.)
With Roman still hiding his face in his hands, Patton begins to trace out letters on Roman’s upper back. It takes a few tries before Roman catches on.
“I,” he says aloud, his voice muffled. He seems to be adjusting to Patton’s affections and Patton decides that that simply will not do.
The next letter is easy and when Roman declares it, his tone is stronger: “L.”
Patton continues. O follows and after it comes V. Roman seems to be connecting the dots and he’s starting to get high pitched again.
“E,” he murmurs, hands slipping down, and curling together beneath his chin.
He’s staring at Patton with half-lidded eyes, sleep warring with consciousness. Patton will never tire of seeing him like this: tranquil and vulnerable. Thankfully, Patton never has intentions of taking advantage of these lowered defenses. He keeps drawing the letters and Roman’s “Y” is garbled.
“Just two more, sweetheart,” Patton whispers, resting his forehead against Roman’s.
Roman hums, blinking slowly, and Patton is reminded of what it means when a cat slow blinks at you. Patton squeals this time and Roman drifts back up a bit.
“What’d I do?” He asks, curious, hoping he’ll remember so he can do it again when awareness returns to him in full. “O,” Roman says before Patton can answer.
“You gave me a Kitty Kiss,” Patton tells him. When Roman’s brows furrow in confusion, Patton presses his lips there to smooth them out. “You slow blinked at me.” He repeats the last letter on Roman’s skin as he speaks.
“U.” It’s all there there now and Roman closes his eyes to picture it as a whole. The shapes come together as one but he’s so close to slumber that he can hardly react much besides making more incoherent noises. These are “flustered princey squeaks” and Patton is the only one who has ever been able to elicit them.
“I love you, too,” Roman sighs, wrapping an arm back around Patton. He shuffles closer, somehow, seeing as they are already pressed flush against each other.
Patton kicks the blankets off of their feet to allow some cool down, lest they wake up too hot and grumpy.
“Sleep well, Ro,” Patton coos. He’s peppering kisses across Roman’s face again: between his eyebrows, on the tip of his nose, along his jawline. “I love you.”