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“Boothill,” Aventurine says his name oh so softly — almost like a prayer. The Ranger turns, an easy half-smile already dancing across his lips.
Aventurine stretches, the motion reminiscent of a lazing feline. Boothill resists the urge to ruffle his hair, or perhaps even brush those golden tresses out of his eyes. Aventurine’s yawn was contagious; he didn’t possess a biological need to sleep, but who was he to refuse an opportunity to cuddle?
“Use your words, darlin’. Need me to come to bed?” Boothill teases, eyes alight with mirth.
“Mhm,” Aventurine hums noncommittally, drowsiness creeping into his slowing words. “Can you…sing me a lullaby?”
The cyborg freezes almost instantaneously. Aventurine immediately regrets asking, but Boothill shakes his head at the concern. “I, ah…I’ve never tried. Not since, y’know,” he gestures vaguely, “I doubt this ol’ voice box can handle it.” He smiles, a little sadly. “I just don’t think you’d be able to fall asleep to my rasps.”
Aventurine’s lips purses in response, one hand wrapping around his wrist to draw him closer — Boothill lets him. “Try it, if only just for me,” his lover murmurs. “I certainly don’t recall ‘caution’ being a trait that you possessed.”
Ah, there it is. The easy banter they seem to fall into like second nature. It soothes Boothill more than he cares to admit, much like how he vehemently denies hanging onto Aventurine’s every word.
“Alright, alright, little bird. Ya know exactly how to get me, huh?” Boothill blows into his ear, earning him an exquisite little giggle out of Aventurine. A smirk makes its way up the Ranger’s face at that sight. “Oh? Someone’s ticklish. Been hidin’ that from me, haven’t ya?”
“Shut up,” Aventurine huffs, batting his hand away. “I’m not letting you weasel your way out of this one.”
“Always a competition,” Boothill tuts. “What does his royal majesty want to hear, then?”
…That wicked delight shining through those mesmerising eyes certainly did not spell out a pleasant night for Boothill. Aventurine cocks his head, making a show of being deep in thought. He opens his mouth, and Boothill has to refrain himself from groaning.
His lover says innocently, “How about one of Miss Robin’s? Surely you know at least one, right?”
Boothill rubs at his temples. “Just because I’m a cyborg doesn’t mean I can change my vocal range entirely, y’know.” Aventurine says nothing, only waiting expectantly with those puppy eyes that Boothill fuckin’ hates. Aeons, he’d do anything for that look.
“Fine. Don’t come cryin’ to me later when it doesn’t sound good.”
“Let my heart bravely spread the wings,” Boothill starts off tentatively, eyes searching within the other’s gaze. Aventurine nods in encouragement, swaying to the melody. “Soaring past the night, to chase the primal light.”
“Let the clouds heal me of the stains.” His lover leans into his touch, eyelids already drooping. Boothill suppresses the chuckle that threatened to bubble from his throat.
“Gently wipe the sorrows of my life,” the cyborg continues, gently guiding Aventurine to lie down. The blond harrumphs in protest as Boothill tucks him into the sheets, and it’s so oddly adorable that it nearly sucks the Ranger’s breath away.
“I dreamed,” Boothill manages to finish, pressing a soft kiss to Aventurine’s brow. His lover sighs contentedly beneath him, and Boothill knows — he wouldn’t trade anything else in the damned world for this very moment. Sure, it was a tad dramatic. And a little terrifyin’, but he’ll figure it out.
They’ll figure it out together. That, alone, was enough.