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The day was new.
Sunlight was only beginning to shine between the cracks in the curtains, birds were only beginning to sing their beautiful songs to greet the morning. The waking world was peaceful and soft, such a stark contrast to the reality of life in Tierra.
Nowadays, mornings like these were incredibly hard to come by, and rightfully so. Now the world was rampant with Fallen Angels, filled with chaos and hatred and rage. On days like these? The horrors of Tierra were very easy to forget about completely.
Pastel was the first to wake. He had always been an early riser; normally due to having the responsibility of preparing the restaurant for opening, but today was a rare opportunity. Their Master Attendant had closed the restaurant for a few days- something about an old friend being in town, as well as the upcoming fall festival. They would have many orders to fill after the break, but Pastel (contrary to popular belief, it seemed) enjoyed savoring the little things.
Those were the quiet thoughts Pastel pondered in the early morning light, breathing soft and eyes still heavy from drowsiness. Despite his affinity for productivity, he was grateful for some time to himself-
Or, well, mostly to himself.
Napoleon had snuck in sometime during the night, as the shorter soul tended to do when he had the chance. Pastel had given up trying to fight him; even when he won the battle for his own privacy, the defeated look that it put on Napoleon’s face left a bad taste in his mouth every single time. Many months ago he may have questioned this weakness that Napoleon exposed in him, but now? Why even waste the energy? Napoleon was a constant in his ever-changing world- no matter what the circumstance, no matter the location and no matter the time of day, Napoleon was there. He was smiling. Laughing, sharing his energy and passion with the world and the people around him.
Once, Pastel may have considered that sentiment a waste. But now, after all they had been through, after everything that had happened to them all, Napoleon was a welcomed presence amidst the rocky tides of the present day.
The room was quiet for about a half-hour, the only sounds being Pastel’s soft breathing and the quiet chirping of a few small birds outside the window. It was peaceful. There would never truly be enough of these moments in the world, Pastel concluded, as a weight on his chest began to shift.
Napoleon was quite the clingy individual, unsurprisingly. It was something almost anyone could determine from the man’s outward personality alone, and true to his dynamic, Napoleon tended to lean toward the more affectionate side of the spectrum whenever intimacy was in the equation. It was something that had at first almost turned Pastel away; physical closeness had never been his strong suit, no matter how gentle or brief the contact actually was. But while Napoleon was…. eccentric, his excitable tendencies did not overpower the fact that the man had a pure heart. He was actually rather situationally aware- Pastel was even more grateful for this fact, seeing as he was the last person who would feel comfortable with a spontaneous cuddle-session. Napoleon had waited patiently for him. It had taken months for Pastel to get to the point where he could openly admit their relationship to others, much less become receptive to physical intimacy. He was incredibly relieved that he didn’t have to explain this to the brunet, as Napoleon was quick to catch onto things (unless of course, they involved Napoleon himself- or maybe he was just pretending to be oblivious?).
They were about a year into their relationship now, however. Pastel was almost too proud to recognize how he’d changed since the moment Napoleon ran off with his heart, even if his emotions had been completely out of whack since. Sure, it was mostly small improvements; but every little thing mattered when it was his happiness on the line. And he was positive Napoleon recognized these differences as well. Whereas Napoleon had always made sure not to make Pastel uncomfortable in the first few months of their relationship, now the brunet didn’t hesitate to cling to Pastel almost every moment of the day- and while it was still annoying, at times, Pastel had grown much more comfortable with his clinginess over time.
That was what brought Pastel back to the present- his musings on their relationship interrupted as the soul in question wiggled atop Pastel’s chest and poked his head out from beneath the covers with a smile so endearing Pastel believed he might just be going soft.
“Bonjour,” Napoleon hummed softly, a hand moving to rub the lingering sleep from his eyes. That was a feat enough in itself; Napoleon was hardly ever up so early. Pastel was struck with the sudden guilt of stirring him awake, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as one of his own hands drifted to Napoleon’s bed-head with a mind of its own. “Bom dia, querido,” He murmured back, fingers absentmindedly combing through the soft brown strands. “I didn't mean to wake you.”
Napoleon yawned in response, head leaning into Pastel’s touch as he moved to rest his head on the taller soul’s chest. “You didn't,” he said softly, his own hands moving to clench in the fabric of Pastel’s light tanktop. “I just slept so well last night that I thought I might thank you.” Pastel would fervently deny any gossip about how truly easy it was to get him flustered, but there was no use trying to keep it from Napoleon. Of course, when the flush on his cheeks most always resulted in the other’s actions, how was he supposed to hide?
“Thank me?” Pastel mused a moment later, having to regain his composure. Even inadvertently Napoleon was difficult to handle, no matter how long they'd officially been ‘together’. Pastel had always thought that term rather dumb- together was such a subjective title. They had always been together; but they had not always been this close. But either way, Pastel wouldn't change a thing.
Napoleon nodded, cheek still pressed up against Pastel’s chest- probably listening to his heartbeat, the soul thought. Napoleon had always had an affinity for the little things. “Mhm. For letting me stay.” Pastel had to stifle a snort at that, rolling his eyes. “I didn't let you do anything. You sneak in here in the dead of night, when you know I can't stop you.” Napoleon giggled, and Pastel felt his heart sing. There was no other sound in the universe that could make him feel the way Napoleon’s laugh could. “Ah, you're right,” The brunet hummed, lifting his head to lock eyes with his partner. “But even if you could, you know you wouldn't.”
Pastel rolled his eyes once more, pointedly ignoring the heat against his cheeks as he pulled Napoleon closer. “I thought this was a thank you?” He teased softly, arching a brow when Napoleon’s smile turned into a smirk. That was the face of a schemer- he knew all too well. “It is,” The soul murmured, leaning forward so that their foreheads touched. “Hold still.”
And just like that, they were kissing.
Nothing would ever describe the feeling that coursed through his veins whenever Napoleon pressed their lips together. Napoleon had been his first kiss, and Pastel wanted the soul to be his only kiss. For no one else could he ever feel the emotions Napoleon had first sparked inside of him. Of course, Pastel had never initiated any of their kisses (he was still working on it, but god did he get so very close to it sometimes), but each time one happened he felt like he was flying. Every time, the world around them became irrelevant; Napoleon was his world, and although a year ago he would've been ashamed of the fact, now he would settle for nothing less.
“You’re so red,” Napoleon was the first to speak after the kiss was broken, a snicker escaping those sugar-coated lips as the soul teasingly poked at Pastel’s cheeks. It took a moment for Pastel to recover, as it always did after one of their kisses, but once he had his senses back about him he had enough incentive to nudge Napoleon off the side of the bed. The shorter male squeaked in surprise as his balance failed, Pastel holding back a triumphant grin at the quiet thud that broke the peaceful quiet of the morning. “Nata!”
Pastel actually did chuckle at that, pushing himself up into a sitting position in order to get a good look at the mess he'd made of his companion. “My bed. My rules,” He said teasingly, nudging Napoleon in the side with his foot. Napoleon only grumbled, swatting Pastel’s leg away as he pushed himself to his feet. Even if the restaurant wasn't on the list of priorities for the day they did have things that needed to be done, sadly enough. “Your rules suck,” Napoleon grumbled softly, no real menace behind the words as he watched Pastel stand.
“Come on, Napoleon. It's time to get ready.” Pastel murmured, smiling softly at the brunet as a sort of peace offering. That alone was enough to wipe the pout off his companion’s face, an enthusiastic smile taking its place almost immediately. “You look so handsome when you smile like that, amour!” He giggled, stealing a quick peck on the cheek before winking at the taller soul. Pastel just shook his head, smile still on his face as he leaned in close. “Shut up,” he mumbled, not allowing Napoleon to get a word in edgewise before he pressed their lips together once more.
The day was new. The world was slowly changing around the two of them, but neither of them were afraid. They had eachother. They had hope and a home and love, and in the end-
That's all one truly needs, isn't it?