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The room is alight by a soft dim glow when Yuri jerks awake in bed, sitting up with a gasp as the images fade from his mind. For a moment, due to the adrenaline in his veins and the rapid beating of his heart, he nearly doesn’t recognize the room, so different as it is from his own bedroom, or anything, back in Abyss.
A blue coat hanging behind the door, a pair of riding boots resting by the only door, a familiar bow balanced against the desk. Dawn light floods through the gaps of the curtains, casting gentle rosy rays on a simple arrangement of violets in a nondescript clay vase, and the other pieces of clothing that were scattered on the floor the night before in a rush.
Exhaling deep and long, his pulse slows down to an almost calm thrum, and once the haze left by his dream lifts, recognition floods his senses. He remembers where he is, why he is here, and who is here with him.
The weight of the arm slung across his hips becomes hard to ignore, and Yuri follows its length with his eyes, taking note of the defined muscles and familiar scars, the freckles peppered on a toned shoulder, until his gaze reaches the sleeping face of his lover.
A slow smile spreads on his own, and he lowers himself down to an elbow to inspect Ashe a little closer, lightly tracing a mindless pattern on a bare pec with his finger. Currently, nights above ground in Garreg Mach are warm enough that their skin is a bit clammy, but that might be vestiges from last night. Either way, he doesn’t mind.
Yuri doesn’t have nightmares as often as he used to, but they rear their heads a fair number of times throughout the year. Most times he’s alone in Abyss, so he deals with them by taking a walk around the darkened tunnels or reading the first book he can find in his room under flickering candlelight. That’s how he’s been dealing with them for as long as he remembers, but it’s good to have an alternative when Ashe is around.
They don’t see each other as much as he would like, but he supposes distance makes the heart grow fonder and the reunions sweeter. With Ashe all the way in Gaspard restoring the territory, and Yuri still in Abyss looking after his people, they have few opportunities to meet during the year.
He has thought of stepping down, however, and following Ashe back into the original territory of the Kingdom of Faerghus to aid in the restoration after he passes the leadership to someone he trusts to do a good job. Besides, the new archbishop is more inclined to help the underground town than the previous one, so he trusts her to look after the Abyssians just as well as she looked after her students during the war.
Yuri gently drags a finger along the column of Ashe’s neck, tracing the curve of his jaw. It hadn’t been easy for him to let down his walls and let Ashe in, but he’s glad he’s done so after much effort. Being close to him like this brings Yuri a comfort he’s never felt before, and having someone to snuggle up to after a nightmare is definitely a plus.
He doesn’t often remember his dreams with clarity, only blurred images that may or may not have happened at some point in life, which works just fine to him. If dealing with the aftermaths of how his body responds to these nightmares is already too much of a hassle, imagine if he also had to deal with vivid details of pools of blood, an Umbral Beast, familiar faces falling in combat, a mission that had gone wrong when he was younger and still learning.
But he doesn’t want to think about that; there’s no point reminiscing about the past, especially the bad parts, and it beats the purpose of trying to distract himself by looking at Ashe.
Yuri leans in closer, stroking his fingertip over the bridge of his lover’s nose. He’s always found Ashe’s freckles to be cute. They made him look adorable as a kid, and they give him a boyish look even now when they’re both years into adulthood. He’s content whenever he gets the opportunity to trace these with his lips and draw smiles or gasps from Ashe with such actions.
Truth be told, Ashe aged to be a fine man, even if he doesn’t think he can compare to his other classmates. Yuri thinks he’s selling himself short, as he thinks Ashe has the prettiest green eyes he’s ever seen, but if Ashe doesn’t believe he’s pretty, then Yuri will believe it on both their behalves and will prove it each day.
His hand travels down Ashe’s face to press open and full on his bare chest, feeling the muscles beneath. What lies under his clothes is just another thing Yuri appreciates, and he has to thank the professor for that. Years of archery and axe training for wyvern riding have left Ashe’s body muscular and toned. Not as much as Balthus or Dedue, as there’s still some softness to his shape rather than just strong lines and hard planes, but still his shoulders and back are deliciously broader than Yuri’s, and he appreciates the shape of Ashe’s torso with or without clothes to conceal it.
When his palm lightly brushes over a nipple, Ashe begins to stir, pale eyelashes fluttering as he turns to lie on his back. The movement of his arm across Yuri’s lap dislodges the sheets that keep him somewhat decent, but he pays no mind to the new patch of skin that is exposed to the air.
“Yuri...?” His voice is heavily laced with sleep, and it makes a large smile split across Yuri’s face as green eyes open slowly. A sleepy smile curls Ashe’s lips upwards, and he lifts a hand to clasp the one on his chest. “What time is it...?”
“Too early,” Yuri replies just as quietly, voice hoarse from disuse and, well, the previous night. “Go back to sleep, dove.”
Ashe exhales as he shifts on the bed, blinking up at Yuri until his eyes are significantly clearer. “Then why are you awake?”
“Nothing to worry your pretty head over.” That makes Ashe frown as he reaches up to run his fingers through lavender hair, and Yuri can’t help but close his eyes to savor the feeling. Ashe’s hair is short enough that it puffs up after a night of sleep, reminiscent of a noble’s pretty, expensive lapdog, but Yuri’s hair tangles and frizzes easily, a real rat’s nest.
It takes a magic spell every day to keep his hair and makeup presentable in the cold, damp atmosphere of Abyss, but he doesn’t tell people that. Let them think he’s just that good.
He groans lightly as Ashe scrapes his nails across Yuri’s scalp, lavender eyes opening to meet with green ones. Ashe is still frowning, so he relents. All that Ashe asked of Yuri is to be honest with him, and Yuri’s getting better at it. “Just a little bad dream, love, nothing I can’t handle.”
That satisfies Ashe to some extent, though he seems no less concerned. Yuri lowers himself to the mattress fully as Ashe props himself up on an elbow, cupping Yuri’s face with a hand and bringing their foreheads together. The gentleness of his actions contrast with the calluses on his hands from years of fighting, but Yuri rather likes how they feel when Ashe is tracing his sides.
Ashe doesn’t ask about his dream, having learned some time ago that Yuri himself doesn’t remember them clearly, but he does what he can to help settle his nerves. By now, Yuri’s heartbeat has returned to its normal pace and his breathing has stabilized, but he doesn’t protest as Ashe tangles their legs together and settles half on top of him. To say Yuri’s tempted to take things further and go for a round three is an understatement, but he knows the trip from Gaspard wasn’t a short one, so he pushes his desires aside in favor of letting Ashe get more rest.
The nose that skims the side of his neck and the kisses pressed to sensitive skin make it hard to keep heat from stirring within him, though.
But as expected, Ashe sighs softly and settles for listening to his heartbeat. He’d pushed himself to arrive at Garreg Mach as soon as possible, eager for their reunion, and had expended quite a lot of energy the previous night making up for their time apart. Yuri tangles his fingers in pale strands and takes comfort on the weight resting on him. It won’t take long until Ashe is asleep again.
He looks across the room, at the arrangement of flowers on the desk. They’re a gift to him, one he’s come to expect whenever Ashe visits as long as the flowers are in season. If not, another pretty bloom replaces the violets, or Ashe brings an extra sweet treat from the town nearby, or some more of Yuri’s favorite tea.
Yuri wraps his other arm around Ashe’s frame, his lover’s breath slow and deep as it fans his chest, arm still curled around Yuri’s waist. This might be the best opportunity he’ll have, he thinks, as he recalls how the archbishop had not so subtly shown Yuri the ring she’d been given by her fiancé after the war, how the green gem sparkled under sunlight after she’d told him of Ashe’s planned visit.
An obvious hint, if he didn’t know better, and a convenient one for the gem made him think of Ashe’s eyes.
Carefully, Yuri takes Ashe’s hand in his, plays with his fingers until they unfurl and he can guess the size he’d wear. There’s a jeweler in town that he should pay a visit to while Ashe speaks with the archbishop, and if he haggles hard enough, he might get a good price on a custom made ring.
Satisfied, he entwines their fingers together and closes his eyes with another slow exhale. The added weight and warmth slowly lull him back to a state of unconsciousness, Ashe’s heartbeat thrumming slow and steady against his chest.