Work Text:
Hats and glasses taken off, discarded on their respective nightstands, labeling which wooden desk belonged to who.
Builder furrowed his features, letting a soft breath leave his nose before cracking an eye open: it was dark. The ink of the night seeped through the window.
Figures. He forgot to take his sleeping medicine, so he woke up at…
Builder attempted to look at the clock, peering over the shadowed figure in front of him. The man gave up when he just saw a red blur; an unrecognizable number.
… too early.
Builder laid his head back down, glancing over towards the window: the branches shook, fearful of the strong blizzard winds. They were painted with a thick snow that kept piling up, small snowflakes fluttering peacefully like white carnation petals.
While the scene outside was tranquil, it reminded him of the cold, harsh temperatures. Builder’s eyes brushed back to the figure cloaked in the dark and he smiled.
His own personal heater, as Builder mentally titled him, was fast asleep. He snored softly, his warm hands rested in front of his face. The Southerner’s arms were wrapped around Seven, hands loosely placed on the small of his back. They slept in a half-assed “honeymoon hug” position.
To think that one could be so comforted by his presence, feeling safe enough to fall asleep; to think that, out of all places, by his side Seven wanted to rest… it filled Builder with a fuzzy gratitude.
With his eyes squinted, he could make out the features on Seven’s face. God, Builder could stare at him for hours, his eyes caught by the angelic beauty: a perfect blossom, finally opened after hard, considerate work.
Slinking a hand back, Builder gently held Seven’s hand in his own. The warmth radiating from inside the skin only filled his desire to be flush against him even more.
Builder exhaled, wrapping his fingers around Seven’s own, before pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his palm. The heated skin coaxed a happy hum from the Southerner’s throat. This is what home truly is.
From the vibration against his skin, Seven stirred, groaning gently. Builder focused on the other’s eye: still closed. Good - he didn’t want to wake his better half.
After waiting for the wave of tension to leave Seven’s knitted brows, Builder pressed his cheek against the other’s hand. The comforting temperature washed over him, shutting his eyes and letting him release another relaxed breath.
Builder wanted–– needed to get even closer; he needed their very souls to twirl and knot together. His chest heaved at the lack of him.
Two plants whose root systems have been melded together; two droplets of rain on a car window, merging together as one; two atoms bonding together; two lines of code, unable to function properly without the other; two fingers, crossed; two close stars in the night sky, dancing forever; two celestial bodies, so different yet so alike, sharing the same sky.
Together.
“I love you.”
And with the way the wind howled, and the way the snow crunched under an animal’s step, and the way the moon highlighted the scene, and the way Seven’s eye leaked a little more, and the way Seven’s hand twitched, and the way Seven’s blood radiated a bit more heat, and the way Seven breathed, it’s as if the Universe tried to say:
I love you, too.