Work Text:
Rumi is sitting on the ground by a rather pathetic campfire, holding what the world considers to be a rather pathetic man. However, unlike the campfire, Peter gives off enough light for Rumi's eyes to see, and enough warmth for her hands to comfortably rest by.
She doesn't feel any of the disdain for Peter that it seems the rest of the world has for him. When she had first spotted Peter in that tavern, looking up at her as if she were the spitting image of God, she had never felt more overjoyed to see a face that wasn't her own.
As they traveled Rumi noticed that Peter didn't ask for much (if anything) at all. Whenever they stopped for food Peter would take the plate with a slightly smaller portion. Whenever they rested Peter lay away from the small fire so that Rumi, Sunny, and Lizard could all huddle closer to it. He didn't seem to care that he was shivering, or that his clothes were now more ill-fitting and looser than ever. Rumi decided one day that if Peter wanted her to be by the fire, then they would be by it together.
The first time she had scooped Peter up into her arms he didn't resist. He had awkwardly leaned into Rumi's chest and started crying. Rumi immediately tried to put him down in fear that she was somehow hurting him, but Peter just held tighter. Rumi tried to calm him down, but every attempt to get him to explain why he was upset just caused another outburst into tears. Eventually, Rumi stopped trying, and just combed her hands through Peter's hair until he fell asleep. Ever since then, she has always scooped Peter up and held him by the fire until they were both asleep.
Rumi is sitting on the ground by a rather pathetic campfire, holding what she considers to be a perfect man.