Work Text:
The crisp Seattle air promises hoodie weather. As the sun dips below the horizon, leaving streaks of orange and pink, the city settles into a quiet evening. Street lamps flicker on, casting a warm glow on cobblestone pathways. In a cozy apartment, Paul, a storyteller with a twinkle in his eye, sits with Matthew, his husband. Matthew is loading a box of penguin plushies, smiling as he cleans them from where they're scattered around the living room after another wholesome prank. Their Labrador, Mr. Maple, suddenly prances over with a shoe in his mouth. He traipses over Matthew as he cleans, making Paul erupt into laughter.
Once the room is clean so Paul can get by, Matthew leads Maple into the bedroom where the dog has his bed at the foot of the husbands' bed. Matthew slips on his favorite hoodie as Paul engages Maple in a one-sided conversation, his voice full of joy and love. When the husbands settle on their bed, Matthew notices Paul’s mismatched socks. He immediately teases him about it, reaching out to lightly trace his fingers over Paul’s feet, making him squirm and giggle.
"Matthew!" Paul exclaims, amusement and fondness in his voice. "I am not!"
Although he argues, he knows Matthew is right. His fingers reach out to touch his socks, feeling the different textures.
“I'm not sure how it happens," he says, shaking his head, "It's like magic.”
Matthew’s quiet laughter rings out. He leans down, cupping Paul's cheek, and then gently pulls Paul’s fingers away from his socks, tracing the outline of his hand. Paul leans into the contact, only for Matthew to reach out with his other hand and start manually wiggling his husband's toes through the fabric.
“Matthew!" Paul laughs again. “You’re playing with my little piggies!”
“You’re such a goofball,” he says in a voice filled with love.
Outside, the city hums. Inside their haven, the world slows down. As night deepens, Paul nestles closer to Matthew, finding solace in his warmth. Amid plushies and mismatched socks, they are simply two souls bound by love. Before the men drift to sleep, Mr. Maple’s snores fill the background, and a sense of peace settles. Paul leans down, his hand on Maple’s fur.
“You’re a good boy, Maple,” he sighs, almost caressing the dog as he gently ruffles his ears.
Maple’s tail wags like a metronome, a playful energy emanating from him even in his sleep. Matthew closes his latest book, laughing slightly at the sight of his husband leaning halfway over the bed to pet their dog. Paul hears the other man laugh; the sound makes his heart soar. He feels a tug and knows his husband is ready for bed. He rolls back under the cover and leans into the warmth.
"Woodsmoke," he breathes in the scent, "smells nice."
"That's not all it smells like," Matthew comments offhandedly.
"Oh?" Paul sniffs it again, really breathing it in. "Cinnamon from your candies? Annnnd lavender, from the detergent?"
Matthew lets out a little huff that could be construed as a laugh. "It smells like you."
Paul hums sleepily, his fingers tracing Matthew’s body beneath the hoodie.
"Get cozy?" Matthew whispers as he turns off the lights.
Paul leans closer, squeezing him lightly. "You're my human Snuggie."
Matthew hums, melting into his husband's embrace. “You’re adorable,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to Paul's forehead. He knows Paul loves this touch.
Paul hums back, and the two husbands drift off to sleep.