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The wind hushes, snow ricocheting off the windows outside, soft shards of ice tapping the sides of Chase and Nox's apartment.
The door creaks open and shuts quickly.
Nox takes off his coat, ice on his shoulders, pooling down the sides of his face in little puddles as he shakes crystals off. Chase hangs up his own jacket on the coat rack next to the hooks on the side of the door before taking his boots off. Nox does the same, hunching on the floor, setting their grocery bag down, overflowing with veggies, baking ingredients, and their favorite chocolate.
Even though it's not as cold as it was last week, the dying cold still makes Nox's full body shiver, sensitive to any sort of change in temperature, even though it had been three years.
Chase is fiddling with their heating unit by the door angrily until there's finally a satisfied beep. "There we go!" He eyes Buddy, in one of his old sweaters underneath a few other layers that are being unpeeled now that they're inside.
Buddy's shivering, cheeks flushed pink and mumbles angrily, "Is the heating device working?"
"The thermostat? Yeah, give it some time." Chase snorts. "Sweetie, are you okay? I was just about to make us some cocoa to warm up."
"F-f-fine," he mutters. "I totally wasn't going to go bury myself under ten blankets and try to warm up—" Chase gasps, a hand on his own chest, as if he's offended.
In the stretch of their small living room, he shakes his head, and Buddy quizzically stares back at him. "What? It's cold." Their lights are dim to their liking, as the regular lighting is fluorescent, blinding, for their sensitive eyes.
The heating system always stays on in the winter.
The shudder in Buddy's frame echoes from his bones to his skin. Chase steps forward in their living room, shaking his head. "Snuggling without me? We're going to the kitchen. I'm making us hot cocoa."
Buddy leans forward, teasing as he turns his cold nose to the side—just a little bit, to press a soft kiss to Chase's cheek. "You're too sweet."
Chase laughs, shy as he looks away. "Well, I was going to make it for myself—" Buddy punches him in the arm, laughing. The heat fizzles under their feet a little more, his feet slightly less numb. "I'm kidding. Well, you need to come with me or else—"
Nox grabs the carton of milk from the grocery bag, as well as the chocolate they'd just gotten—semi-sweet. "You're so bossy." He teases, whacking Chase with the chocolate.
Chase stares fondly at their Christmas tree as Nox fiddles through the bag—they had a week until Christmas, and their lopsided little tree lights up their dim apartment to their liking. The fairy lights bounce off the walls, their stockings hanging on by little hooks right next to it.
Behind them, the sun has already started to set, despite it being 5 PM. Nox pokes him in the side with the bar of gluten-free chocolate, signaling for them to go to the kitchen.
Despite Chase insisting he needed company while he cooked, he never once let Nox even as much touch the stove. Something about him wanting to cook for both of them. Nox liked to pretend it wasn't because he nearly burnt the chocolate at the bottom of the pot trying to make hot cocoa when they'd first moved in.
"Wait, babe, can you put the rest of the stuff in the fridge?" The thermostat hums contently along with Buddy, who walks away to grab the bag of groceries—there's shuffling as Buddy sets some produce aside to wash later, putting the rest of the packed things in the fridge.
Chase walks over to the sink to wash his hands again, lingering, drying his hands off a few seconds later.
Finally, he sets off on his task— He grabs a cutting board, cutting the chocolate into little chunks carefully. The knife taps against the wood in a satisfying rhythm. Chase can smell the faint aroma of chocolate filling their kitchen, cooped with the faint scent of cilantro against the cutting board. Chase grins fondly at the same memory of his mother cutting the vegetables for his favorite gluten-free pot-pies on. They'd used their old cutting board for everything, and now, so did Chase.
Chase had always complained about the lingering taste of vegetables on the fruit. No matter how hard his dad scrubbed that cutting board, the traces of that vegetable taste wouldn't go away. It used to annoy Chase as a kid, but now…
It made his heart ache, a reminder of how easy things used to be.
Just to check, Chase takes one of the smaller chunks of chocolate and eats it—sure enough, he can taste cilantro, faint. He chuckles, a silent memory just for himself.
Behind Chase, he can hear the shuffling of Nox, putting a few jars away, as well as another carton of coffee creamer in the fridge, as well as maybe a package of the pre-made gluten free wraps that Chase had an obsession with, among other groceries.
The fridge closes after a few minutes of shuffling around, and Buddy goes to the sink, sleeves up to reveal the bones of his wrists. "Should I wash these now or later?" He washes his hands after handling the groceries, and goes back to the sink, lingering.
Chase reaches up, looking for a pot to finally start on the stove, struggling. "Later. I'm making it now. You gotta watch me or you're not getting any hot cocoa."
Buddy watches Chase try and jump up to open the cabinet door above him. He grunts, and Buddy watches as Chase hops up on his toes for the cabinet. Why he told Buddy to move the baking stuff around, he has no idea. Buddy pouts, knowing well that Chase can't see him, his back turned. "Aw, like, watch you struggle to get the pot?"
"Shut up. I can get the pot. Who put it up there anyways?!"
Buddy smirks, watching as Chase struggles. "It's not a competition. I could easily help you—"
"W-well, yeah, I know—" Buddy reaches above his head and grabbing the pot for him, setting it back down on the counter. Chase turns around, glaring at him with how much malice he can muster—as if his chest isn't bursting with butterflies, satisfied with how domestic their life feels sometimes. "Ugh, you and your endless desire to help."
Buddy tilts his head to the side, sleeves rolled up, cheeks flushed and his hair messy from the snow. He snorts with laughter, staring fondly down at Chase. He presses their foreheads close for warmth—for nothing else, of course. "Now where have I heard that one before?"
Chase grumbles and presses their lips together, softly, sweetly, before shoving Buddy aside. He tries to ignore how his senses are warm and how Buddy barely moves an inch. "Shut up." He also tries to ignore the dopey smile on Buddy's face as he turns around, and the mutual one spreading across his mouth as he turns away.
He looks to the milk Buddy left out on the counter and pours it into the pot. Chase doesn't measure, he just throws stuff together, so he pours what seems like nearly enough. Buddy hovers over him, watching Chase stare at the pot, letting the milk start to bubble before he can add in the chocolate.
Buddy's breathing softly behind him, the kitchen quiet minus the simmering of the milk. His hands reach around his waist, stretching past his sweater and into his shirt. When they're pulled closer together, Buddy's neck brushes against his shoulder.
Chase shivers, trying to snap out of it, the heat contrasting with Buddy's cold hands. "What is wrong with you?"
"Me?"
"Y-you're cold. And you're making me cold. And you aren't letting me make the hot chocolate."
Buddy snorts, reaching for the chocolate on the side. "I'll help." There's a soft snap as a piece of chocolate is devoured.
"That's not helping!" Chase spins around, chuckling as Buddy reaches for another piece of chocolate. "You greedy little—"
"Well, we can't all be geniuses," Buddy drawls, leaning close for Chase's mouth. He smells, unsurprisingly, like chocolate. Right as Chase almost closes the gap between them, a flash of black hair flutters in his face as he turns his head.
He reaches for another piece of chocolate instead of kissing him, and Chase glares at him. "I'm actually gonna— whatever, you're so distracting! Let me make the hot chocolate."
The milk starts to hiss in the pot, and Chase turns around for the cutting board of chocolate. He stirs in a few chunks at a time, reaching for a spoon to stir it together. As the hot chocolate starts to hiss, Chase reaches for their spice drawer, grabbing cinnamon and sugar to taste.
Buddy steps back, watching as Chase reaches for the pot, stirring the hot chocolate, chunks bubbling to the bottom. He reaches for the sugar and cinnamon, adding both of them in, hands moving vigorously as the pot starts to steam almost instantaneously.
A soft huff of hair escapes him, a soft breathy exhale at how passionate Chase was. It always made Buddy so happy, even more when he watches Chase hum contently, stretching out those angelic sounds as his face lit up, a soft grin playing on his face—it was the type of expression Nox could sense from being in the same room as him, even with his back turned.
The hot chocolate bubbles a little, and Chase calls, "Buddy?"
Buddy's at his side immediately. "Yes?"
"It's still warming up a little, but do you wanna try it?" Chase reaches for another spoon off to the side, dipping it in the warm mixture.
"Yeah—" Nox is muffled as the warm mixture is pressed against his lips, warmth shooting down his spine as he drinks some. He pauses. "Good. Needs more cinnamon." Chase reaches for the bottle of cinnamon, shaking a little more into the pot.
The hot chocolate bubbles, swallowed up, blending into the milk like white paint swallowing up color. Chase reaches for his same mixing spoon, swirling the pot around, satisfied as he finally turns off the heat, setting the cocoa aside.
Buddy reaches in their fridge, and they work a mutual rhythm—Buddy reaching for the whipped cream and sprinkles, Chase reaching for chipped mugs, clinking them against the counter, before pouring in the hot chocolate.
When Buddy turns around, he watches as Chase gathers his hair in a bunch, pushing it off his face. He goes back to the spice drawer, putting away the spices. Nox winks, confident. "I've got this."
Chase just snorts. "That was cringe."
"Says the one who bought a mug that says—" He cuts himself off with a snort. "Shut…duh fuh cup?"
Chase elbows him. "It's not cringe. It's funny. Something people with humor understand."
"Yeah, and you have a mug that says 'I tell dad jokes…periodically. With the elements of that chemistry table on it." Chase snorts, moving aside for Nox to make their cups of cocoa.
"Shocked you know what that is, Buds." He watches as Nox makes their cups, avoiding the sprinkles for Chase's cup, as they aren't gluten free.
The amount of care they have for each other makes Chase's heart soar, and it makes him want to latch onto Nox's back and never let go. Nox absentmindedly musters, "D'you think we'd be good parents?"
"Yeah." A soft grin spreads across Chase's face, the idea warm in his mind. The urge to throw himself at Nox is immense, even with Nox carrying their cups. Chase stops himself, following behind Nox as he walks with their cups to the living room.
They sit down on the couch, the faint light of the tree fluttering behind them as the couch sinks, the cups placed in front of them.
Nox feels a little warmer, but the second the cups are placed down he lunges for Chase, pressing him back against the pillows. A startled laugh escapes Chase as Nox nuzzles his cold nose against Chase's. "Ah, Buddy, what is wrong with you?"
Kisses are placed all over his face as he's turned around over the couch, until Chase slaps his face away, dazed. Buddy laughs. "I love our life."
"Me too. But the cocoa is going to get cold." Buddy looks to the childish, warm glint in Chase's eyes, and then back to their cocoa, the imperfect swirls of whipped cream melting into their cups. He reaches for his own cup to take a sip, and he grins as he swallows whipped cream and sprinkles, and the chocolate overwhelming his senses.
"This is…really good, Chase."
"I'd hope so." Chase grins, and they go back to their cocoas, eyeing the presents under the tree, hearts warm and souls content.