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Opposites attract… Or so they say.
It was a stupid myth in Tord’s eyes. He observed countless similarities between himself and his boyfriend; he was glad to have found someone who agreed with him and was interested in common topics. Close-minded, sure, but who could really complain about his relationship?
They both wielded guns, had a cooler head than others, and both wore a closed off attitude that would ward off most. They both often donned hoodies, in which colours were on the bolder side, and both were able to handle complete silence with each other longer than the average couple.
Except, there was one, teeny weeny, difference. Despite its mere number, It was something significant enough for Tord to scoff and roll his eyes at his choices in his love life when it came up.
His significant other was lazy. This pig slept in. He was never reliable with keeping his time, appearing late in every single obligation– and he procrastinated, never seeming to even care until the very last possible second. This trait was even apparent in his gait and idiolect.
For the most part, Tord was able to overlook this part of him. He thought he could balance the other’s unhealthy habits out with his own, possibly even influence him; He could wake up the second the sun greeted the horizon, show up early if not on time on anything he’d promise his presence in. Tord supposed he would also be a great role model to show off how one should sustain his tongue and posture…
He’d nag the other until he would begrudgingly drag himself out of bed, more than generously tagging alongside him as they brushed their teeth at- what, six in the morning? Tord felt as if he did this long enough, he could get through to his heavy, thick skull.
Apparently, he wasn’t even close to that point.
In this particular morning, he found himself trapped in the arms of said boyfriend. The only body part he could move was his wrist, which he was able to flick and read from his sleek watch; seven thirty. Damn it. He could have brushed his teeth, cooked up a quick breakfast, and maybe even squeezed a small morning jog by now if he was fast enough.
He couldn’t do so, thanks to his sluggish, and apparently very cuddly partner.
“Tom.” Tord grumbled, shaking his shoulder back and forth in hopes the movement would stir the other out of unconsciousness. His body was trapped, entwined tightly with another set of limbs that held him tight in his place. This cage forbade him from moving any other position, any movement futile and somehow rendering him closer to the other body.
… At least it was warm.
But he couldn’t allow himself to be the one influenced– he wouldn’t.
He gently pinched tan skin on the other’s arm, hopefully the stinging sensation was enough to wake him up. Unsuccessfully, this only pulled him even closer. Perhaps he should stop trying, lest he get any closer.
Tom’s forehead was pressed against Tord’s shoulder blade, adjusting his grip so his arms were bound around Tord’s abdomen. Just when Tord was about to wrestle himself out of this grasp, warm legs ambushed him from behind and wrapped themselves around his own. His head, previously lifted to watch the attack, sunk into the pillow below him as he sighed in defeat.
Just when he closed his eyes to sulk in the beginning of a non-productive day, those same arms dragged him backwards until his back was pressed into the chest of the other.
“Y’done?” Was what was lazily murmured into his ear. Such a close proximity was probably why his face felt warm; Tom seemed so close it was embarrassing. Refusing to give a response, he was met with a low chuckle against the shell of his ear.
Tord curled in on himself, unintentionally embracing the arms wrapped around his stomach. He tried to kick his feet to pry himself free, yet he was careful as to not harm the other.
“Quiet...” Tom grumbled, despite the lack of words coming from either of them. He dragged his voice out, almost whiny as it trailed off as a sort of plea to keep Tord still, “S’ too early, little cricket,” What a nice voice. Tord couldn’t not oblige to that. He could take some points off for such a silly nickname, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from such a nice voice.
He didn’t say anything, but he straightened his legs a bit so as to allow himself closer to the other. How long were they going to lie here? He felt restless; That must have been why he had such a strained expression on his face. It almost immediately melted once he felt a less than smooth pair of lips against his cheek, feeling a patchy stubble brush against his jawline. “Jus’a few more minutes,” Tom continued with a half-asleep moan, seemingly appeasing each of Tord’s anxieties and worries, one by one.
It was only when Tom’s kisses trailed down to his nape did Tord begin to unravel from such a tense posture, completely relaxing against Tom. His hands began to gently toy with the other’s hands, which were locking him in, until they relaxed their grip and instead lay themselves flat against Tord’s skin. Since when did they ride up his shirt? What a touchy boyfriend.
Tord scoffed, his own hands clasping over Tom’s yet failing to make any attempt to move his hands away. It wasn’t that he was too weak or anything- he had full control whether he could do so or not.
He craned his head up and back to attempt to try and look back at the other. With the grasp he was in now, he couldn’t do so very easily. He squinted, narrowed eyes unable to pick up too much detail on the other’s face thanks to the dim, cool lighting. Tord was only able to see the mottled hair of his stubble, closed eyes and lax, thick brows. He stared at the other for a moment, before finally finding the words to explain what he wanted to say, “I hav’ta cook. You can stay in bed…”
Tom must have heard the closeness of Tord facing him, eyes peering from their closed position. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, leaning into the crook of Tord’s neck to gently push his head back forward, “I want you here. Cook later.”
Officially giving up, Tord leaned back so he faced forward, back flush against Tom. He felt so, very warm.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
He couldn’t fall asleep now– He wouldn’t. Tord’s hands gently played with Tom’s fingers on his stomach in thought. “How do you persuade me so easily?”
“Hm?” He could feel the vibration on his shoulder.
“You do so little. But you make it look so easy.”
Tord could feel a smile form against his skin. He shuddered. That felt weird, “Just relax, hun,” Way too simplistic for an answer, but Tord didn’t pry for more. Warm fingers gently tapped on his stomach, assumedly to a song by how the pattern seemed.
Everything Tom did felt so weird, but it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.
Tord wanted to give that same feeling to Tom.
“Make eggs n’ toast,” Seemingly out of the blue, Tom requested. He pressed the curve of his eye into Tord’s shoulder. “Something fast. That’s what you live by, yeah?”
Embarrassed, Tord didn’t respond to Tom’s remark. Instead, he gingerly held the back of Tom’s hand, thumb rubbing over each knuckle. “I’ll make it the most delicious egg and toast you’ve ever eaten.”
Tom laughed, louder than before but still hushed as to keep the volume low. Tord definitely didn’t miss the bounce of Tom’s shoulders through his laughter, however. “Every breakfast you’ve made for me is always the most delicious, dear chef,” How cute.
Tord blushed. It was undeniable at this point.
What was the use of such sweet nicknames? It was so.. uncalled for. Perhaps Tord could try.
“Then I should make it everyday from now on, sweet.”
“Sweet?” Was that too bold of a nickname? It was much too difficult to tell with such a carefree chortle from Tom, “That’s new.” Tord shuddered once he felt more kisses pepper his back. Why was Tom so happy and affectionate this morning?
Was he always this comfortable in the morning? Was Tord trying to take this moment of slowly recovering from sleep from Tom? No, no of course not. Still, his belly rumbled unsettingly and he was certain it wasn’t because of hunger.
“I’m sorry,” Tord uttered, guilt overcoming him. There wasn’t any verbal response from the other, instead it took in the form of the weight over himself being lifted, “Ain’t nothing to be sorry for. Turn around.”
Christ, was it always this cold?
It was winter, after all.
Perhaps all that blushing and cuddling warmed Tord right up. What a nice way to wake up. He didn’t use his granted freedom to get up and flee. Rather, he turned himself around, mindful of Tom’s bicep beneath his head.
He grew limp the second he could properly see Tom’s face. When did his movement become so languid? It wasn’t bad. Perhaps it was because of the warm smile pointed at him.
Tord only stared at the other’s closed eyes and grin. He could tell by the flicker and curve of his eyelids that he was now awake with a refusal to open his eyes. Suppressing a chuckle, Tord buried his head into Tom’s neck. No way was he going that close to Tom’s face before brushing his teeth. He breathed evenly through his nose, feeling Tom’s hands now snake their way onto Tord’s back under his shirt… Tom seemed to like the idea of skin. Lovely.
Tom found himself waking up peacefully on his own from then on, greeted with full breakfasts and an anticipating boyfriend.
Anticipating for what? He wasn’t quite sure, but hugging, greeting and thanking Tord seemed to satisfy him.