Work Text:
“Foolish.”
Deep within sleep, the word barely registers in Foolish’s mind.
“Foolish… wake up.”
Making an incoherent noise inside his throat, Foolish scrunches his nose up a little in disdain. Can’t this nameless, bodiless voice see that he’s sleeping? No matter how nice it sounds, Foolish is not waking up.
“Foolish, my love. Wake up for me.”
Foolish opens his eyes. “Mmph?” He inquires eloquently as Vegetta’s face comes into view, very close and very, very fond. Foolish feels warm as he blinks up at amethyst eyes, familiar and fond in their gaze. His bearings crawl back to him, little pieces of information registering slowly; tiredly: he is laying in bed, bare skin pressed against Vegetta’s, the arms of his husband wrapped closely around him. Vegetta is reaching up to brush gentle fingertips across Foolish’s face, and it’s all Foolish can do to shuffle up the bed sleepily, placing a haphazard kiss against the corner of Vegetta’s mouth.
Vegetta laughs, quiet; endeared. “Good morning, Foolish.”
“Buenos días,” mumbles Foolish, letting his head fall against the pillow right next to where Vegetta’s own head rests, their noses brushing as they speak. He feels so, so comfortable; more comfortable than he ever remembers feeling, and a contented smile settles over his lips like the first fall of snow, soft; there to stay, at least for a little while.
For a moment, quiet is the only thing that exists between them as Vegetta trails an affectionate hand over Foolish’s back, and Foolish tries not to shiver at the feeling of it. Then –
“It’s snowing, Foolish.”
Foolish’s eyes snap open. “Huh?”
Vegetta smiles, eyes betraying that he’d known this, exactly, would be his husband’s reaction. “It’s snowing.”
“Fuck!”
Sitting bolt upright, Foolish blinks a few times, head spinning at the sudden change of position – and then he’s bounding out of bed and down the ladder, rushing to the elevator, uncaring of the way he’s only wearing sleep trousers, torso entirely bare.
“Wait, F–” Is all Foolish hears before he’s taking the elevator, stumbling to the door of the tower and throwing it open, heart pounding in his chest –
“It’s snowing,” he breathes.
Around him, everything is white. The long pathway up to the tower; the turrets that line the way; the landscape stretching out further, to places that don’t matter when it’s only him and Vegetta out here, together – it’s all white, even the air that ripples with still-falling snow. Breath whooshes out of Foolish’s chest, a mixture of shock, delight, and steely, biting cold sweeping it away as he stands there in the doorway.
Arms slide around his waist from behind, a warm chest pressing against his back. “I thought you would like it,” Vegetta mumbles softly in his ear, chin resting against his shoulder, and Foolish laughs breathlessly.
“I do like it,” he confirms. “I – I do. Fuck, Vegetta, I…”
Because this – this is nothing like anything that he’s known before. Flashes of a previous life flick through a reel behind Foolish’s eyes: nothing but sand and empty landscape; endless days of scalding heat; dry throats and gold skin turning darker in the sun. He doesn’t remember much of those days, but he doesn’t think he hated it – in fact, he’s quite sure that he enjoyed the solitude of that bare stretch of land, far from anyone else; far from danger. But it was more convenience than anything, rather than a favour for that harsh, too-hot environment. It wasn’t something that he found beauty in.
Not like this.
“Vegetta, it’s beautiful,” Foolish manages, and Vegetta’s arms tighten as he presses a kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder.
“I know you were waiting for it,” Vegetta murmurs fondly, and Foolish laughs, remembering how, as time made way for the lead up to Christmas, he had mentioned the snow countless times, lamenting the fact that he’d never seen it before and peeking out the window every morning hoping for the skies to turn white. And now, finally…
Slipping out of Vegetta’s hold, Foolish darts out into the cold, yelping as his bare feet sink into the icy carpet beneath him. Vegetta, knowing him well, is long past trying to put a stop to his bad ideas, and simply watches as his husband wades through several inches of snow, flopping down atop it and flailing his limbs as snow crumbles into his face. Being a totem hybrid, Foolish’s skin isn’t as sensitive to the cold as a human’s, but he can still feel himself beginning to shiver – but that’s okay. It’s snowing, and it’s almost Christmas, and his husband is standing right there in the doorway, watching on with love unmistakeable in his eyes, and when Foolish inevitably becomes too cold and hurries back towards warmth, teeth chattering, Vegetta will be there to fold him into his arms and hold him there, safe, until he is warm again.