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The best part of loving Wee John is the cuddles. He can't even act like there's anything else that comes close. Sure, Frenchie also loved the other parts. The kisses. The schemes. The hugs. The jokes. All of it was great. It's his best friend he's doing it all with. How could it not be?
But the cuddles?
They were simply the best.
They felt like home.
Frenchie has never had anywhere that felt like home before. When he was on land working in service, nothing there was ever his. The place he slept at was just somewhere he could tuck himself away to during breaks. It was never really rest. And when he got on the sea, it never really felt like much of anything, if he was honest. He was on a boat. Drifting around. He'd see rocks and hills and valleys and such. But the whole, big wide world, it was pretty dull.
John, however? He was never dull.
In John, there was an excitement he felt to his bones, there was a place he belonged in his arms, and there was affection he could actually call his own.
He was home.
And at the end of a long day, he could retreat to his hold and feel content.
He would shed off a layer of clothes, crawl on top of his body, and just let his arms go limp. He would cast away the length of the day and just soak up all the warmth from the impossibly plush body below him. He would rest his head against John's chest, eyes closed, and feel the softness of it press against his cheek, listen to the heartbeat in his ear. He would feel John's hands caressing his back, no words, but offering complete comfort. And after some rest, when he's felt the tire in his own body ease a little, and he thinks he has the strength to pull his eyes open again... he would crane his neck and look deeply into those gentle blues that were so lovingly gazing down at him. And he would feel the corners of his lips being pulled into a smile he couldn't fight back, no matter if he even wanted to try. And he would scrunch up his nose at him before burying his face into John's chest and peppering his sternum in a dozen tiny kisses.
He was home, and he loved being home.
Of course, whenever he would do that, Wee John would always end up laughing. It would start as a little one, just a bit of snickering, but when Frenchie wouldn't stop his pesters of affection... that's when he would properly laugh. It would be one of those big, bellyful laughs that make his stomach bounce. And, by everything good in the world, that laugh would make Frenchie's heart jump every single time. And, as his more slender body was being shaken and stirred by exclamations of joy erupting from John's glorious figure, Frenchie would have to regretfully cease his kisses to slip into his own fit of giggles, too.
How could he not? When he was being so wonderfully held and adored, and the object of his affection was laughing so warmly at him, how does one not just dissolve into laughter right alongside them?
Hell, he sometimes thinks he's going to fall off when Wee John really gets going. But if that fear ever bubbles up, and he clings to John just a little stronger to be safe, it's never more than seconds before John's holding him tighter than ever. And he's sure that he'll never let him go. And that promise only makes Frenchie smile wider and curl himself closer into John. Until, eventually their laughter would settle, and they were just together.
"God- room people really have it made" Frenchie would wonder to himself.
Maybe it was the poet in him that wanted to wax on about it, but this really had to be the sort of life everyone was chasing, right? How Jim ever kept the smiles at bay, when they knew this was the sort of place they were returning to, it's a mystery Frenchie will never understand. Because the way he felt knowing this incredible bliss was waiting for him when the day was done... he felt light like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he felt bright like the sun was stored within his soul. That sort of line would probably sound cheesy, but he'll write others. Once he wasn't so distracted by the incandescent scene he was sitting in? Once he could focus on words for a few minutes? That's when he will compose songs of the safety, joy, and love he feels.
Because this was home. Wee John was home. And Wee John's cuddles?
They were the best part.