Chapter Text
The early morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of salt and the distant crash of waves against the rocky shoreline. The small cottage they shared sat perched near the edge of the coast, its windows overlooking the vast expanse of blue that stretched endlessly beyond the horizon.
Cìan had already been up for hours, as he always was, slipping out of bed before the sun had fully risen to prepare for the day’s work. Alethea had stirred slightly when he left, feeling the warmth beside him disappear, but he had long grown used to Cìan’s routine. He had simply pulled the blankets tighter around himself, letting the sound of the ocean lull him back into a light doze.
By the time he finally dragged himself out of bed, the sun had settled into a soft golden glow, spilling through the cottage windows in gentle beams. He could hear movement in the kitchen—the clinking of dishes, the low hum of a tune Cìan was absentmindedly singing under his breath.
Alethea padded into the kitchen, wrapped in the oversized knitted sweater that Cìan had gotten him months ago. His hair was slightly tousled from sleep, and he rubbed at his eye as he yawned. Cìan, standing by the stove, had to tilt his head back to grin up at him.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
Alethea huffed, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re too chipper for someone who was out before dawn.”
Cìan chuckled, flipping the eggs in the pan with practiced ease. “And you’re too grumpy for someone who just got up.”
Alethea only hummed in response before stepping forward, easily looping his arms around Cìan from behind and resting his chin on top of Cìan’s head. He felt the slight hitch in Cìan’s breath before he relaxed into the embrace, one hand reaching up to squeeze Alethea’s arm affectionately.
“Breakfast will be done in a minute,” Cìan murmured, his voice quieter now, softer.
“Mm.” Alethea’s good eye flicked lazily toward the pan. “How do you manage to cook after hauling nets around all morning?”
“Pure skill,” Cìan said smugly, flipping the eggs onto a plate. “And maybe a little stubbornness.”
Alethea hummed again, amused but still too tired to argue. He only let go when Cìan moved to plate the rest of breakfast, but not before pressing a quick, lazy kiss to the top of his head. Cìan’s ears turned pink, but he didn’t say anything, he just passed Alethea a plate and guided the elf toward the table with a gentle pat on the back of his thigh.
The cottage was quiet except for the occasional clink of cutlery and the steady rhythm of the waves outside. They ate without rush, as they always did on the mornings when Cìan wasn’t heading straight back out to sea. These slow moments were rare, but they were theirs.
Alethea glanced at Cìan as he took a sip of his coffee, his brows slightly furrowed in thought. He seemed distracted today. More than usual. But Alethea knew better than to pry just yet—Cìan would tell him in his own time.
Instead, he nudged Cìan’s foot under the table, his much longer legs making it easy to do so. “You’re staring into that mug like it holds the secrets of the universe.”
Cìan blinked, then let out a sheepish laugh. “Just thinking.”
Alethea tilted his head, waiting.
Cìan hesitated for only a moment before shaking his head, smiling to himself. “It’s nothing. Just… appreciating this. Us.”
Alethea quirked an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Sappy this early in the morning? You really must be tired.”
Cìan rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. Instead, he reached across the table, fingers brushing against Alethea’s wrist before settling there. Alethea didn’t pull away.
“Just let me be sentimental, will you?” Cìan murmured.
Alethea chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze. “Alright, alright. But only because you made breakfast.”
Cìan huffed a laugh, squeezing back. And for a while, they just sat there, letting the waves outside fill the silence, feeling the weight of something unspoken settle between them.