Work Text:
When the dark-haired boy slides into bed beside him and he can feel the slight indentations of the boy’s ribs, he says nothing. He smiles, weaves his fingers through the other boy’s, and brushes a kiss across his forehead. They settle into each other, familiar with the way their bodies intertwine. In the morning, the lanky blonde-haired boy untangles his limbs from his partner, slipping out of the warmth the bedsheets provide and dressing quietly. He opens cabinets in the kitchen, gathers spices and supplies, and hums as he cooks breakfast. And if he gives the other boy an extra helping when he emerges from the bedroom, the dark-haired boy doesn’t seem to notice. They exchange a scattering of words and gentle touches, feet swinging beneath the marble countertops they perch on, before separating to greet the rest of the day. A faint wave and quiet embrace send the shorter boy off, and the blonde-haired boy stands in the doorway smiling, watching him go. The other boy did not finish his breakfast, but he also did not leave as much on the plate as before. This is progress. The taller boy cleans up the kitchen, planning out a dinner for the coming night. What he does for the other boy is unspoken, but still. It is love.