Work Text:
Setting down the warm, porcelain kettle on a round tray along with the rest of the tea set, you slowly took it in your hands and carried it across a wooden door frame, entering the room at the other side. The living room received you with an array of greens and reds, accompanied by the glow of soft, yellow lights. Everything was dimly lit, as there was not much need for artificial lights when the fireplace roared gently from beneath the chimney and the silvery light from the stars outside brought light into the dark home.
As you placed the tray on the low table in front of the fire, the warmth of its orange tongues licked your skin, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils. It mixed with the sweet smells of ginger in the tea and the subtle aroma of the chocolate in the freshly baked biscuits on the table. Altogether, they became a perfume for your senses, and pride beamed within you like a star.
Ever since your arrival at Morioh, it had become a daily struggle of yours to make the dark and cold house you were renting a more pleasant place to live in. Things didn’t go smoothly at first - the house, for once, had several pipe and drainage issues, and you had had to call plumbers almost weekly for over a month. That had resulted in carrying buckets everywhere in rainy days and running back and forth. Then the problems with termites, the lawn, the shower going berserk… You were finally beginning to understand why rent was so cheap.
But now, looking at the flames dancing and bringing life to the house, the bells that tingled with the soft breeze, the red and golden decorations on the Christmas tree’s branches… The previous issues seemed to be erased. You might actually have started getting a little fonder of it all. Just maybe.
You looked at your wrist watch. Twenty minutes past ten. The moon was barely on its way towards the sky. You still had a lot of time to have dinner and enjoy some quality time before closing off the year. You were kind of looking forward to it, for once. End-of-year countdowns hadn’t always been your thing - you usually shrugged them off with a bidding of luck for the next year to come - but tonight it was different. This time you were sharing it with someone.
You turned your head away from the fireplace towards the stairs from where you could hear the rumble of the radio playing. A smile crept its way onto your lips. He was probably still working, even on new year’s eve. The radio playing told you so.
“Jotaro, dinner’s ready!” Your body turned and you walked towards the stairs, continuing to talk while you climbed up to the second floor, “I made tea and baked some biscuits, we could have them while we wait for the countdown.”
You walked down the narrow corridor of the second floor towards the small study, “I think it might also be a good idea to go to the store as soon as possible, we’re kind of low on sugar an-”
As soon as you got to the study you placed a hand over your mouth, trying not to make a sound. The man you thought you had been talking to was sitting on a chair a little too small for him, his body leaning back with his arms crossed. His chin had sunk into his chest, which was covered by his long-sleeved, black turtleneck shirt, and his legs in his long white trousers were crossed over each other. The cap usually stuck to his head lay on the desk, as if he had finally understood how pointless it was to wear that thing indoors. The gentle, quiet breaths that left his lips confirmed that he was fast asleep.
You silently left the room, returning soon after with a thin blanket that you unfolded and lightly placed over his shoulders. You didn’t want to wake him, but the study was cold nevertheless. He was physically strong and healthy, but still susceptible to catching a cold, like any other person.
The thought of him falling ill drove your eyes towards the documents and pictures sprawled all over the wooden desk. They were all part of his work for his thesis - piles and piles of papers with photographs sprinkled in here and there. Curiously, though careful not to stir him, you tenderly picked one up. In it, Jotaro’s eyes were set on a starfish at which he was pointing. Though his eyes were almost fully covered by his signature, white cap, you could still catch a hint of passion within them; love, even.
He was so busy with the problems stirring up in Morioh, and he still managed to find time to pour into his passion, into the one job that fulfilled him as a person. The smile on your lips just never ceased to widen in admiration for him. Though… You glanced back at the dark circles under his eyes. He needed someone to remind him that he, too, was human. That he could rest. That he could do something as mundane as falling ill. That he didn’t need to be this superhuman-to-the-rescue all the time.
Setting down the picture, you glanced towards the window and realised why the room was so cold. Sighing at your boyfriend’s idea of leaving it open in a winter night, you turned to close it. Yet, as soon as you gave a step forwards, a too familiar tune suddenly played on the radio.
A gentle breeze trickled into the room and carried the melody into your ears, making your eyes light up.
“Here we are, as in olden days, happy golden days…” You found yourself whispering the lyrics, a warm smile on your lips.
“... Of yore.”
The response that came from behind you caused you to turn around and widen your eyes, meeting a pair of blue ones hidden under black locks.
“Oh dear, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry-”
“Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more…” The man under the blanket slowly stood up from the chair, his voice velvety despite having been sleeping for a while. It was deep like a murmur of distant thunder, but still sweet like the scent of the food downstairs.
The music kept ringing in the background as he moved through the room towards you, his eyes watery from having just woken up. As the lyrics streamed out of his lips like a gentle rivulet he yawned, but he still offered a hand for you to take. You took it after a little hesitation at first, but once he had enveloped you in a warm embrace, there was no room left for uncertainty.
His body guided you into a slow dance to the song, your feet moving in rhythm along the wooden, polished floor. A hand of yours on his chest, and a hand of his on your hip, you stayed close, linked by the touch of both your other hands. You glanced up at him and giggled at the half-asleep look on his face. Normally he wouldn’t have freely decided to dance with you in the middle of the night - he was definitely drunk on sleep.
But still, you didn’t break the pattern your feet cast across the floor. His warmth drew you in like a trap for a wild animal. He was your hunter in the cold winter night, and you were a ray of moonlight trapped in his arms. His clothes smelled of coffee, cigarettes and home. You sunk into him; into the strength of his chest; into the carved edges of his face and his arms.
The quiet dance lasted as long as the song, twisting around the study with the night. Soon the issues of the house, the problems in the city, the doubts, the pain… They were all far, so far away.
“...And have yourself a merry little Christmas now…” Both your voices rang in unison as the melody faded into an end, bringing the slow dance to a halt. You stood in silence for a moment, and as you were about to raise your gaze to speak, he pulled you close and placed a gentle kiss against your lips.
You savoured the kiss for a moment, placing your right hand to cup his cheek. He bent down and kept his eyes closed, and the few seconds that the kiss lasted seemed like a whole decade had just flown by.
As soon as you broke the kiss and he stared lovingly into your eyes, you were startled by a loud boom and a crackle outside. Now alarmed, your first instinct was to rush to the open window and stare into the darkness outside, just to be met with a much more pleasant surprise than you may have expected.
The sky outside was peppered with fireworks - lights fizzed and waltzed across the black, painting over the dark canvas with flashes and sounds. Your eyes widened as you looked down at your watch. Five past twelve.
“We missed it!”
“We missed what?” In came his response from behind as he walked towards you, his voice still groggy.
“The countdown!” Your eyes turned to him, watching the frown on his forehead suddenly lift in understanding.
“That only means one thing then…” Now the frown had settled on your eyebrows as he spoke. He slowly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “We started the new year listening to Michael Bublé.”
A low laugh emanated from you, ringing out into the night air, and you gave the man a little playful fist.
“You big idiot.” Your eyes stared up at his own. Unlike most days, he was now wearing that smile that only grazed his lips once every year or so. And you’d been lucky enough to be the one to see it this once. “You big, starfish-loving idiot.”
Stars and fireworks danced in his eyes.
“Happy new year, love.”