Work Text:
Day 17: Marshmallows.
“Fuck, it’s cold out there.” The tall man pulls off three layers of jackets, shivering slightly.
“Well lucky for you, I already have milk heating up for cocoa.”
“You’re making something that requires more than the microwave.”
“Hey, asshole, there are a few food items worth the time, homemade cocoa is one of them. We were hardly ever cold enough to make it at home, but ever since I moved away I’ve loved it. Should be ready in maybe ten minutes, go change into something comfy.”
Five minutes later Simmons walks back into the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants and a cheesy pullover sweater that the other man had given him a few Christmases ago having replaced his khakis and button-up. “How was work today?”
“Eh, it’s close to Christmas so there are more assholes than normal, but nothing too bad. Come ‘ere.” Grif turns from the stove, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, pulling him close to kiss at his neck gently.
“Griiiiif, stop. I have papers I need to grade.”
“I bet you’d be in a better mood to grade after some sex. You’re always in a better mood after a post-sex nap,” the shorter man replies, placing his mouth on a spot he knows will drive his boyfriend insane, causing the red-head to whine softly.
“Dex,” he breathes out, threading his fingers through the dark hair of the other.
“Yes?” The dark-skinned man pulls back, shit-eating grin on his face, dark eyes bright with mischief, turning the stove burner off, hand sliding under Simmons’ sweater.
“Screw, grading papers, I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day anyway.”
An hour and a half later Grif carries two mugs into the living room, a bag of marshmallows under his left arm. “Do you want marshmallows in your cocoa?”
“Just one, please.”
“Weirdo.”
“Shut up, fatass.”
“You shut up.”