Chapter Text
It was a warm Sunday in Manhattan, and Erik was catastrophically bored.
He’d done everything he could to occupy himself. Not that there was much to do at all. Erik had already read all the books in the apartment, and he wasn’t in the mood to read any again. Checkers was too asinine, dominoes too complicated, chess too trite. So he’d started composing an overture. Then, just when Erik had thought he was making good progress, Nadir had put a hand on his shoulder and gently asked him to come eat. Erik had done so. He’d protested, at first, but he’d done it. Nothing was worth disappointing his beloved. The two of them had shared lunch, talked about nothing of substance, then settled in for an afternoon nap.
Which led Erik to where he was now.
He awoke first. Mid-snore, a cocoon of heat all around him. Saliva pooling onto his pillow. The tell-tale sign of a good nap. That didn’t happen to Erik very often. Already his body was priming him to go back to sleep. He couldn’t help but yawn. Was this how Nadir felt all the time? How it felt to be so damn warm? No wonder Nadir was always telling Erik to rest, to relax, to, as Americans said, “take it easy.” Tsk. Easy for him to say. He could fall asleep, stay asleep, wake up satisfied, no questions asked, no issues whatsoever. In fact, he was still slumbering peacefully beside Erik.
Lucky.
Erik had read. Paced. Sewed. Paced. Composed. Paced some more. Returned to composing. Drawn. Written. Paced again. Scrapped everything. Started from square one. Eaten. Slept. And now he lay about uselessly, still too drowsy to bother crawling out of bed, still a bit too full to move much at all. Still bored. Just as the pain dawns once again upon a patient waking from surgery, so too did Erik’s ennui return as the fog of sleep cleared. At the intersection of sleeping and waking, not quite conscious enough to think twice about them, he started getting funny ideas. There simply wasn’t enough in the apartment to keep him busy all day. He loved everything he did have— he was more than grateful for it, and especially for Nadir’s company— but after a while, he needed something else. Something different. Something more, if indeed anything could be more than music or literature. Something small. Small enough to be manageable. And soft. Pleasant to touch. Like a warm blanket. Something small, and soft, and friendly, and…
Something they could both take care of.
With some effort, Erik adjusted himself and shook Nadir’s shoulder.
“Mon chéri,” Erik said softly. “Mon chéri, wake up.”
Nadir’s eyes fluttered. He mumbled nonsense in his sleep. Not at all a satisfactory response. Erik would have to resort to emergency protocol.
He kissed Nadir’s forehead.
That always did the trick.
Sure enough, as sure as the sky was blue, as sure as trees grew ever upward, true love’s kiss pulled Nadir from the void. He stirred. Twisted one way. Sighed at the crrrack that rolled up his spine. Relaxed all over, looked placidly at Erik through softened eyes, then, finally, smiled once he remembered where he was. He was the very idea of a rococo painting: rose-soft, reclining lazily amid sprawling rays of setting sun and thick, indulgent blankets, not a single care in the world and certainly not much thought to speak of. The sight made Erik’s breath catch in his throat. He marveled at the realization— his fifth that week— that he was allowed to sleep beside this man every day. Whenever he wanted.
If he thought about it for too long, he would cry.
Nadir’s voice emerged from low in his chest. “There you are, azizam. Did you sleep alright?”
“I was thinking,” Erik said, because if he didn’t now, he never would. “I know you don’t like cats.”
Nadir blinked with confusion. It was as though he needed to wake up a little more before he could respond.
“Right,” he said at last.
Erik pressed on. “But if I were to—“
“We’re not getting a cat.”
Clearly under the impression that this conversation was over, Nadir allowed his eyelids to droop again. Erik wasn’t about to dismiss him just like that. He put a hand on Nadir’s chest. Stay with me.
“I understand that.” Erik’s nerves energized him, better than the blackest coffee ever could. “Like I said, you hate cats. Do you really think I’d do that to you? What I was going to say was, if… er… hypothetically speaking, of course, if I were to bring a dog— “
Nadir grumbled. “I won’t have any damn animals in my home.”
He rolled over and promptly went back to sleep.
So that was that, Erik supposed.