Work Text:
7:00 am
Grumley stirred the slightest bit, eyes still closed and comforter pulled up to his chin. The action prompted the arms wrapped around his body to pull Grumley closer to the owner of said arms’ chest, making the precious t-thump t-thump of his heart clearer against the pug's cheek and ear.
Grumley let out a satisfied hum, a small smile appearing on his face as the paw around his hip rubbed slowly up and down his back, the other sneaking up to cup Grumley's cheek, thumb drawing circles beneath his eye.
“I know you're awake,” the low baritone of Booker's voice rumbled, and more than heard, Grumley felt it, the raccoon's chest vibrating where Grumley's face was laying. The raspier, morning voice of his boyfriend should be banished in all of the Dim Dim Woods, in the aspiring detective's humble opinion, for it had no business making Booker's already lovely voice that much more attractive.
“Nuh uh,” Grumley mumbled, way too tired and comfortable to leave his rightful spot in his boyfriend's arms, clutching Booker's pajama shirt (an old t-shirt from some movie of Grumley's that was way too large on the raccoon, who stole it away some time ago and refused to return it) and burrowed deeper in the jazz musician's neck.
The pug felt the paw leaving his cheek and before he could let out a sad whine at the loss of warmth, Booker wrapped it around Grumley's left one. The pug released his hold on the sleep shirt as his paw was raised against a familiar snout, a soft press of lips against the back of it.
One, two, three kisses were dropped there, then it was turned on the other side to have the front receive the same treatment, causing butterflies to erupt in the dog's belly. When the raccoon released his hold, Grumley's paw was left tingling.
A rustle of fabric could be heard as Booker fixed his position to lean down more easily, and the pug felt the raccoon's paw return to his face, this time to tilt it gently up with a finger in his chin. A gentle warmth pressed against the top of his head, followed by Grumley's forehead, where Booker lingered for a moment. One butterfly kiss was laid on each eyelid, inching down down his cheek, until his mouth at last met Grumley's, slotting together like puzzle pieces.
Morning breath be damned, the aspiring detective absolutely melted against his jazz musician. It was as if time stopped for a moment, and everything outside the lazy press of lips against lips came out of focus. It was as if Grumley's world was entirely made of molasses, everything sweet, slow and unrushed. Both paws were now cradling Grumley's face, tilting his head just so to the side for an even better angle, holding it close and with so much care that the pug felt like the raccoon was treating him like a treasure.
When they had to separate for air, Grumley felt his cheeks flushing, arms on both sides of Booker's to hold himself up, trembling from the effort and from the sweetness of the kiss.
He fluttered his eyes open for the first time that morning, which regaled him with the vision of the raccoon taking him in with the most lovesick look in his eyes, which were so soft in that moment, a dopey smile stretching from cheek to cheek and lavender fur tousled from sleep.
“Good morning, darling,” the raccoon whispered sweetly. Grumley let out a sigh, knowing he had lost the battle against getting more sleep, but that if this is how he was woken up every day, then he wouldn't mind terribly.
“G'mornin’, Booker” the pug said shyly, nuzzling his nose to his boyfriend's and leaning in for more, aching to get all the love the raccoon was willing to give him, knowing with absolute certainty that his boyfriend would never deny him that. A sense of happiness glowed deep within Grumley's chest making his tail wag rhythmically and his boyfriend chuckle against him. A feeling that made itself a home out of the pug's heart and which he knew wouldn't leave any time soon.