Work Text:
The room was quiet, the only sounds being pages flipped and pen scratching on paper. the familiar sound of cards shuffling was lost, merely an echo lost to time. Sigma continued his reading, Fyodor with his writing, and Nikolai’s card tricks stiff in their minds.
Sigma flipped another page, and Fyodor wrote another sentence. Every sentence read was another one written. Their knees close together, sides pressed into each other and shoulders glued. The closest they could be without cuddling. Fyodor released one hand on his paper to rest it atop Sigma’s. His lithe fingers traced over callouses and bruises, something akin to a kiss along his knuckles.
Comforting, in a way. Sigma closed his book, keeping his hand in place so he wouldn’t lose the page. He twisted his hand to hold Fyodor’s, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.
Love was an awfully interesting thing. Something that ran through your veins, set your nerves alight and kissed your lips with soft aggression. Love was something that you couldn’t abandon, something that held your heart with such care.
Hands intertwined, their hobbies forgotten, Fyodor and Sigma basked in the sweet comfort and quiet of the other. Matching bite marks, etched into their skin from a missing lover, and more added from the existing lover seated next to them.
There was something tragic, but something so tender and sweet among them. The tracing of fingers on skin was almost a whispered “I love you” against lips, a kiss pressed to a cheek. There was no sound, only the beating of hearts and the scratch of skin against skin.
One would argue love was like a rose, something beautiful from afar that hurt when you got close. Which was rather morbid. Love hurt in a way that you never wanted it to leave. Burning in a way that left beautiful scars. Scars on lovers with matching wounds. Ones left with such delicacy and care, treated with kisses and promises.
The two lovers rested with their hearts and hands intertwined, their own way of saying “I love you”.