Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mornings used to be lonely.

Ness spent his free time searching for magic across the neighborhood. It was everywhere, after all. 

Many animals, even critters, were kind enough to show him that.

A stray cat's consistent and affectionate purr felt like a vibration of love against his fingers as he scratched the underside of their chin. Red squirrels, even with the fluff above their ears, could notice him from several feet away, running before he got a chance to really look at them. Ness remembered being so fascinated, he spent a spring tracking their behaviors.

Even better than their senses was how they'd stuff their seemingly never-ending cheeks with food. Acorns, pine nuts, or whatever seeds lying on the ground, they'd scoop up, tuck away, and bring back to their dreys. 

The peak of their forging hours was right after the sun rose, so he had to wake up early to set up adjacent to the largest tree in his front yard, so he had the best seats in the house.

He never got too close to their nests after a failed attempt left his arm in a sling, but he could imagine what he would see if he made it.

A family of squirrels, starving from a night's rest, would gather around a table carved straight from the tree's own bones. They dined like it was a ceremony. The forager would unload their cheeks and divvy up the morning's haul, careful to slip a little extra into their own stache, as retribution for their hard work. The young would eat first, small fingers fumbling with stubborn shells as the adults stood by to help when the cracks required more refined skills. Only after their duties were complete would the grown-ups feast, biting through the brittle shell to reach their hard-earned meal.

And when it was done, they'd do it again. Sometimes twice, sometimes thrice, and sometimes Ness lost count because he had to leave for school. With his bag slung over one shoulder, he watched over the other to make sure he didn't miss them emerging from the nest.

All he knew was that it was never once. Not ever. They gathered, divided, and dined until they were satisfied in their bellies and their work was considered done.

Ness blinked, the old memory dissolving into the soft scratch of branches against the windowpane where he stood in the kitchen. Overlooking the front yard, he fixed his eyes on the tall tree center in the bed of roses. It was a beautiful dark oak, his only choice of decoration for the lawn. His neighbor said it would make a fine carving. It was one of the many hobbies she shared with him when he introduced himself around the neighborhood. Their following conversations always led back to this one, though. With a harmless smile on her face and her previous works in hand to boast, she asked him time and time again. Just one branch, she promised. A single limb, and she'd make both of them something spectacular.

He always found a reason to say no— the wood wasn't good during this season, or the noise of the saw would disrupt the neighborhood. It was never the right time to sacrifice a piece of the tree, no matter how great the offer she presented. 

He wasn't really sure why he made excuses, either. Only that the thought of cutting into the oak made his chest tighten like it was committing blasphemy against a holy object. It struck him as disrespectful, an offset to the natural balance of magic in the world. 

He stepped back from the window and grabbed his mug, the steam from the freshly brewed coffee kissing his face first. The bold earthiness was laced with sugar on the back end, a cup of heaven in his hands, already starting his morning off right. Closing his eyes and breathing it in, he let the steam fill his lungs almost meditatively.

Before the ceramic could reach his lips, another warmth came over him. Rougher and heavier than the embrace of his coffee, the heat came in the shape of a man clinging to him like a grumpy, oversized cat. 

"You woke me up earlier," Kaiser mumbled against the side of Ness's neck, voice groggy from his interrupted slumber. His arms found their rightful place, locked around his waist, staking their claim on what was already theirs. 

The scent of Kaiser quickly drowned out the coffee. Cold air curled around them, the contact of their skin and whisper of cedar being the only warmth he felt, but being all he needed. Just like his words, Kaiser's redolence was sharp and clean, untainted by the grueling sport he'd dedicated years to.

Ness smiled into the rim of his cup and leaned back into him, careful not to spill even a drop of the steaming liquid. 

"Sorry," he whispered, matching Kaiser's sleepy grumble with a quiet cadence of his own. He couldn't quite wipe the cheer from his voice, not with Kaiser pressed so close. "I thought you'd want to be up early," he added, "since your interview's in four hours. I still have to touch up your ends, too."

Kaiser burrowed deeper into Ness's neck, arms tightening until Ness felt like a mouse in a cat's grasp. His heart fluttered dumbly, and for a second, Kaiser said nothing. 

The selfishness in Ness believed that he was taking his time to breathe him in, distinguishing his aroma from that of the pungent coffee and memorizing it to replay in his head while he was away, giving the world his attention instead of Ness.

"I don't want to do it anymore," Kaiser shattered the silence with another mutter, this one carrying much more weight.

Ness felt his entire body stiffen. "Y-you don't? But yesterday you said... I already bought the dye—"

"Not that."

Kaiser ended Ness's ramble before it started as his inked hand tightened on the other's hip, tugging him closer if that was even possible. With their bodies melded together, every beat merged, the curtness of Kaiser's steady heart making an embarrassment of Ness' stubbornly racing one.

"I mean the interview," he clarified. "I don't know what my manager was thinking, setting it today of all days."

Ness blinked, half in relief, half in confusion. It was Saturday, but as far as he could remember, Kaiser didn't mind working on the weekend. He supposed with age, anything could happen, even the development of new pet peeves.

"Oh," he murmured, realizing he had been clenching his mug hard enough to make his fingers ache. A small smile curled onto his lips, his grasp loosening as his worries melted away. Again, he relaxed into Kaiser, letting the contact pull him under like it always did.

Kaiser ruined his serenity with a hard squeeze at his hip, just edging on the lines of cruelty. Ness jolted but didn't move away like Kaiser, who only huffed.

"Don't tell me you forgot."

His tone held all the spite Ness needed to know that was not an invitation to answer honestly.

He gave Ness a few beats to defend himself, but his words were useless, jumbled inside his head.

Kaiser groaned, the emotional pain not lost on Ness's tightening heart.

"Alexis."

"..Yes..?"

"Three years," Kaiser spoke like he was counting every day that passed on his fingers. "It's been three years since you retired."

"Oh... Oh ."

Kaiser sighed, and for once, it wasn't out of frustration. Ness took his mercy with grace, warming his hands around the coffee mug still cradled in his palms. The bunched-up sleeves of his pajama shirt covered his knuckles, a decent shield against the heat seeping into his skin.

He barely had time to take a real sip before Kaiser stole the cup right from his hands—

"Hey! M-Michael," Ness sputtered, reaching pointlessly for his coffee held away by Kaiser's long arm. His persistence didn't last, hands retreating to his sides and accepting the quiet defeat.

Kaiser nudged him, his nose pressing against Ness's chin until he gave in and turned his head. 

Magenta caught cerulean, or maybe it was the other way around. The depth of blue was enough to suck him in like the ocean's tides and hold him captive for a while. Ness swallowed, trying to remember how he ever breathed.

"You shouldn't hold it like that," he mumbled, voice going pathetically soft without trying. "It's hot."

"I know." Kaiser lowered the cup just enough for Ness to grab the bottom, not allowing his prisoner to roam free just yet. His grip was harsh, demanding Ness's eyes on him instead of the coffee.

"Today," Kaiser lowered his head, the murmur loaded without a drop of sleep. Only stubbornness remained: "Today is for us, understand?"

Ness felt the spark of their fingers brushing, and flushed bright red. "Okay," he breathed.

The kettle hissed, cutting through the moment just enough to free Ness from his gaze. He turned his attention to the machine, taking any excuse to ignore the vibration of Kaiser's hum through his skin.

"We can do anything you want," Kaiser added, voice lazy as his chin settled on Ness's shoulder.

"Anything?" Ness asked, forcing the brewing pot out of his focus. He turned his head and…

Kaiser wasn't looking at him anymore. His eyes were somewhere past the kitchen and himself, following something Ness couldn't see.

"Yeah," Kaiser squeezed him with less aggression this time. His voice dropped into a quiet mockery that made Ness smile without thinking. "Even squirrel watching, since you're into that shit."

Ness tilted his head, ready to respond, but as he caught a glimpse of the oak through the window, words had no time to form.

On the left branch of the oak, there was a squirrel. No, four of them, tumbling over each other like the entire world was their playground. He tracked their clumsy paths with wide eyes. They led him right to their drey tucked beneath a group of leaves, exactly where he would have hidden it too.

"Michael," he gasped, beaming with excitement. "They're—" He couldn't even get the words out, a bright smile staring back at him in the window's reflection. 

"You're unbelievable," Kaiser huffed, stepping away with the abandoned coffee in hand. He took a sip, and his face twisted. Ness would never stop finding his reaction to coffee funny, but with his focus elsewhere, he couldn't hear anything over the sound of his own heart.

His fingertips pressed against the glass, mindlessly tracing the outline of the branches. It had the same feel as back then, but slightly different too. Instead of the chilly gust of spring, there was warmth. All the hours he'd spent watching, waiting, and logging every tiny miracle as they happened. He remembered them so clearly now.

"I'll grab some chairs." The sound of Kaiser's voice snapped him out of his trance. 

Ness nodded, following him through the reflection, briefly distracted from the squirrels. "Wouldn't want you missing your show ," Kaiser mused, the smirk on his lips heard more than seen, and Ness's attention was already back on the tree.

But the words weren't lost on him, his hand curling against the glass. For once in his life, he didn't feel like he was waiting for something. He already had it.