Work Text:
The fire roars, brought to life by a small match tossed into the fireplace; Ramiro’s been working in the kitchen for almost half an hour now, probably making soup, now winter’s here.
Ángel has left him to it, preferring to be in front of the fire, a book in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. It’s a good life, he thinks, knowing soon enough, his lover will join him in the living room, add a drop of brandy to his coffee, and they will wait for dinner to be ready.
He shudders, suddenly cold.
‘Wake up.’