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Snufkin has always loved the rain.
The sound of it falling down on his tent as he drifted off to sleep was his lullaby and the smell of the Earth was something he found to be quite pleasant.
The rain also brought wonderful memories of him and Moomin, whether it was them playing in it, laughing loudly before running back in when lightning struck, or the two of them huddled up in Snufkin’s tent to hide from it, hot chocolate in their paws and tails curled up on each other, whispering to each other about whatever they could, Snufkin found himself to be a fan of rain.
What Snufkin isn’t a fan of, however, is the rain destroying his tent. The dirt that kept the poles buried deep was eroded by the rain and his tent that once stood proud was flat on the ground. Snufkin was pretty sure most of his things were dripping wet by now.
Snufkin didn’t want to admit it, but he felt upset at seeing his tent like that. He remembered getting it when he was far younger upon stumbling into a group’s campsite.
“Who is this child?”
“Where is your family?”
“What are you doing out here all alone?”
Some of them asked even more questions and Snufkin could only look down on the ground shyly, shuffling his feet on the ground.
The leader of the group invited him to stay for a little while with the promise of warm soup for him and Snufkin, still shy to refuse and already weary from his long walk, agreed to it.
They saw him off the next day, giving him an extra tent they brought and teaching him how to set it up. A gift from one vagabond to another, the leader said.
He found the tent to be his safe space where he could be alone with his thoughts and music when everything felt like it was too much. It was where he went when all he needed was time to recharge and rest. It was an area of comfort, it was his place, his home.
And now it lay there, some part of it ripped away by the harsh rain pulling it apart. Now he wasn’t one to get upset over things like this-material possessions are still material possessions, after all-but this was his home, how couldn’t he be upset about it?
He recalled a time when he first got the tent and it fell down after a hail storm, some parts of had holes, and he remembered crying, even if he wouldn’t admit that now. That tent was just that important to him.
Snufkin didn’t realize how much he let himself stew over his fallen and very damaged tent until a shadow was over him and there was a familiar and fuzzy hand on his wet shoulder.
“Are you okay, Snufkin?” Moomin asked, his umbrella covering his boyfriend as much as possible without much care for his own body, “Mamma saw you staring at your tent and I got here as fast as I can.”
Snufkin only shrugged, turning to Moomin with a smile he already knew Moomin wouldn’t believe, “I’m alright, Moomin. I was just surprised by how harsh the rain has been.”
Moomin looked him directly in the eye and then at the tent and then back at him, “Well, I think it’s best you stay at my house.” He says carefully, “I don’t think the weather is getting any better soon."
Moomin watched Snufkin look at the battered tent for a little longer before he tugged his arm. He could tell that Snufkin was sad, but they’re both under the harsh rains and they were bound to get sick soon. He knew how grumpy Snufkin could be when he was sick and he rather not have his boyfriend in a sourer mood than he already is.
Snufkin got the memo and they made their way back to the house, Snufkin holding onto his hat as tightly as he could whilst Moomin fought the winds that threatened to take his umbrella away.
Both dripping and soaking the floorboards of Moominhouse, they entered the front door and pat their feet on the welcome mat, Snufkin taking his boots off, and Moomin left the umbrella outside in the hopes it would dry in the morning.
“We’re here!” Moomin loudly announced and as if on signal Moominmamma was there in an instant with two towels on each arm.
“Goodness! You two must be cold. Here,” She hands each of them a towel, “Dry yourselves off and I’ll get some tea ready. The bath is ready if either of you would like to take one.”
With that, she left the room and Snufkin remembered just how fond he was of Moomin’s family. They’ve always treated him like he was born in it, which was something that he saw rare for those he’s met during all his adventures.
Moomin put his hand on Snufkin’s shoulder once again and it was that which let the vagabond know that he was shivering, tail instinctively wrapped around him in a weak attempt to get some warmth.
“I’m sure mamma has the water all warmed up. Why don’t you go take a bath? I’m sure pappa and mamma have something you can wear while your own clothes dry.” He suggested.
“And maybe you’ll feel better.” Was the unspoken message Snufkin could tell from how gentle Moomin was currently. More things to love about this troll, Snufkin told himself.
“I’ll be right back then, my dove.” Snufkin responded, blinking slowly at Moomin and walking to the bathroom.
Once he was there, he carefully removed all of his clothes and left them in a pile outside the door (Moominmamma left a basket there just for him and it was greatly appreciated). His binder was fortunately not hurt in any way and he was glad to find some comfort in that. It was a gift to him from Moomin, after all. He’d be much more upset if it was ruined somehow.
The water was warm and while Snufkin himself didn’t take as many baths as the residents of the house did, he wasn’t one to say no when Moominmamma herself had him do it. She was a tender moomin, but she wasn’t someone one could stop if she was determined enough to get someone to do something, and Snufkin didn’t want to tempt fate.
A few minutes of scrubbing himself and soaking in the warm water later, he found a new pile of clothes (his own probably being washed by Moominmamma) right outside the bathroom door. They looked like one of Moominpappa’s pajamas and even though they were a little big on him they were very soft and comfortable.
He made it to the living room where Moomin was curled up on the couch, a cup of tea on the windowsill while the moomin himself stared out the window, the rain just as bad.
“You look very snug there, Moomin.” Snufkin said, gaining Moomin’s attention.
Moomin laughed, “I could say the same for you.”
Moominmamma entered the room, another cup of tea in hand, “Here you go, Snufkin.”
“Thank you, Moominmamma,” He picked the cup up and took a small sip, “I’ll be sure to wash the clothes before I return them to you.”
“Nonsense.” She said, patting Snufkin’s head, “There’s no need for that. Now, go and have fun with Moomin. He misses you already.”
Snufkin heard Moomin splutter behind him, making both Snufkin and Moominmamma laugh while Moomin whined and turned red.
“I will.” Snufkin nodded. Moominmamma returned to the kitchen to do whatever she needed while Snufkin placed his tea on the windowsill and sat beside Moomin.
Moomin was still beet red, but he opened his arms, allowing Snufkin to slowly place his head on Moomin’s chest, arms wrapping around his boyfriend. Moomin adjusted the way he sat so Snufkin could curl up on him even more and he was rewarded with the loud sound of purring, almost as if the sound was bouncing on the walls.
Snufkin was enjoying the moment so much that his tent, as sour as he is about it, was becoming a bit of a distant memory already. While it was still true that the tent was a place of solitude and bore memories both happy and sad, and it was something still very important to him, here, in Moomin’s arms, the rain playing a song just for the two of them, he’s never felt so at home.