Work Text:
Gorgug wakes up early in the morning, grumbling as he hits snooze on his crystal. He really should get up, but these next few minutes are what make the day worth it; especially Mondays.
Fabian is still fast asleep, his cheek is squished onto the pillow and he’s drooling just a little bit. Gorgug doesn’t care, he thinks Fabian is the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
Gorgug throws an arm over Fabian and pulls him close. It’s much too hot to cuddle in these summer months, but when it’s early morning and there’s still a chill in the air, it’s the perfect amount of warmth to put a flutter in Gorgug’s chest.
Fabian stirs only slightly as Gorgug pulls him into a warm hug, his mind half-processing the movement. In whatever sliver of consciousness he has, he thinks mm, warm, I love you, then drifts back to sleep.
Gorgug’s alarm threatens to wake Fabian at any moment, so he gently moves himself out of the bed and presses a kiss to Fabian’s forehead before gathering his things and heading off to work.
In Fabian’s dream, Gorgug whispers I love you.
Tuesday is less of a trudge. The difficulty of shaking off the weekend is gone, and work settles back into the daily routine.
Fabian returns home from volunteering—he has no need to work; neither does Gorgug, but he can’t stand not having something to do with his hands—and kicks his shoes off at the door, leaving them on the doormat to keep from tracking snow inside.
He calls out that he’s home and finds Gorgug in the kitchen. He’s standing over a pot of water, waiting for it to boil.
Fabian sidles up behind Gorgug and hugs him, laying his chin on Gorgug’s shoulder.
“You know what they say about watched pots?” Fabian teases. He can practically feel Gorgug rolling his eyes, but catches the sight of his lip turning up in a smile.
Gorgug doesn’t reply, just turns around and brings Fabian into a big hug. It had been a day, but now he gets to be in his warm home. He gets to be with his darling husband and watch TV while they eat dinner together.
Some days are hard, but coming home to this makes it all worth it.
Wednesday really is hump day. The morning had been slow and grinding, the afternoon frustrating and tiresome.
All Fabian wants to do is go home. He just wants to lay, curled up, in Gorgug’s lap and bitch about his terrible day while Gorgug soothes him.
So he does just that.
When Fabian arrives home, Gorgug is sat on the couch, flipping through TV shows and movies and making a quiet comment on each one. His ears prick up when he hears the front door open, and he turns his head to see a very grumpy-looking Fabian doing his I’m stressed and I need to calm down routine. He puts his shoes on the shoe rack instead of kicking them off at the door, hangs his house key on his designated hook instead of putting it somewhere he’ll forget it, and half-stomps up the stairs to take a shower and regulate himself.
Gorgug notices this because it took a long while before Fabian allowed himself to be rough around the edges. Somewhere along the way, though, he settled into a comfortable middle-ground between being a hot mess and a perfect legacy, and just let himself be.
What that means now is that Gorgug can almost smell it when Fabian is stressed out. He knows to let Fabian come to him when he feels clean and calm, so he just enjoys the sounds of Fabian’s incredibly loud music until that moment comes.
Fabian, when he’s finished scrubbing himself of the day, takes a long few minutes to rub in his favorite lotion and focus his mind on enjoying his evening.
Gorgug is patiently waiting on the couch. He greets Fabian softly, and Fabian practically falls on top of him, immediately finding a comfortable position and burying his face wherever he can fit it.
“Long day?” Gorgug asks, gently petting the back of Fabian’s head.
“Mm,” Fabian half-grunts in response.
“Hungry?” Gorgug asks.
Fabian nods and huffs out a breath. “Yeah,” he mutters.
“Already done,” Gorgug says. He’s almost cradling Fabian—even though he’s very nearly as tall as Gorgug himself—and presses a kiss to the top of his head.
“Thank you,” Fabian says. He nuzzles his face into Gorgug a little further, as if to say but right now, I just wanna sit here.
The only exciting thing about Thursday is that the day after is Friday.
It’s a mundane day. Average. Par for the course. Gorgug has a fine day; Fabian as well.
What’s special is that, today, they get home at the same time; a rare occurrence since Gorgug started working early mornings. But he’d gotten off a bit late, and Fabian a bit early, so they meet on the doorstep.
“You’re home early,” Gorgug says.
“And you’re home late,” Fabian counters.
“Touché.” Gorgug shrugs, pulling his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door. “After you.”
Fabian walks in the door and sets down his things, taking a moment to watch how Gorgug follows the same steps in his routine, silently noting the subtle differences.
Gorgug goes about his afternoon in much the same way as he always does and starts thinking about dinner. Fabian takes his post-work shower while Gorgug works on cooking. Then, they trade places; Fabian either watches a bubbling pot or stirs food while it warms so Gorgug can have a shower of his own.
It’s normal, and nothing about it strikes Fabian in any way until he’s standing in the kitchen, giving Gorgug a kiss before he heads up the stairs to take his own shower, that he feels the reality of it. He watches Gorgug walk upstairs and feels his heart melt a little bit, having the realization that he’s where he wants to be. He’s living the life he always wanted. He’s comfortable, he’s safe, and he has Gorgug by his side through it all.
Friday is for fun. Most weeks, Fabian will spend Monday through Thursday thinking about the date he’s setting up for Friday night. This Friday is a special one. This year, their anniversary falls on a Friday.
Earlier that month, they’d agreed that it would be an at home celebration.
For the past several years, they’d taken turns planning their anniversary; each trying to outdo the other. This year, though, was going to be something special. It was five years. Total, not of marriage, but that number somehow felt like it deserved something more private, more intimate.
They don’t cook, they don’t dress up, they just order whatever they feel like eating. They spend the evening talking, dancing, singing, remembering why they fell in love, and why they’re still in love.
The night ends with a slow song; the song they had their first dance to as a married couple. Fabian closes his eye and lets Gorgug lead him in a dance as he lays his head down on Gorgug’s shoulder.
“I love you,” Fabian whispers.
“I love you,” Gorgug whispers back.