Chapter Text
Owen dumped his axe and boots by the door. He shrugged his cloak off as he walked, letting it hit the floor. He dropped onto the couch,
(More specifically, onto Louis.)
Dramatically. He let his head loll sideways into Louis’s chest. Louis chuckled, reaching up to undo the string keeping Owen’s rats nest of curls off his face. His hands moved up to play with his hair and scratch his scalp. Owen melted even further into his boyfriend’s chest.
“How was your day dear?” Louis asked, breaking the blissful quiet.
“Shitty. It’s freezing, everyone is a bitch and the trees are laughing at me.” He grumbled.
“Surely not everyone is a bitch?” He asked innocently.
“Have you met them?” Owen waved at the town beyond the walls of their home.
“They couldn’t be bitchier if they were actual dogs.” He joked. Louis laughed softly, soft and light and beautiful. Owen loved his laugh.
“Did you at least eat today?” Owen made a non committal noise.
“Owen, my dear, you do actually have to eat.” Louis chided. Owen whined, flopping more heavily into Louis’s chest.
“I didn’t have time. The bitches all needed wood.” He groaned. Louis made an unhappy noise, pulling Owen further up so he could tuck his head under his chin. Owen leant gratefully into the touch.
Louis had always radiated heat, warmth Owen never had the luxury of feeling outside of being in contact with Louis. He couldn’t afford to burn any of the wood he cut down and he never had enough to buy blankets anyway. And then he had met Louis, who was a human fireplace, and Owen had decided that he would spend the rest of his life with this man even just for his natural warmth.
“I made dinner.” Louis whispered above him. Owen mumbled something grateful into Louis’s chest.
“I’m serious, come on you big cat.” He laughed, pulling Owen up with him as he stood.
He practically carried Owen across to the small table shoved into the corner, dropping him into a chair and going to get whatever he had made for dinner. Owen sagged in his chair, cold now, with the loss of Louis’s touch.
Louis brushed a hand under his chin as he came back, setting a bowl of some kind of soup or stew down. He dragged his chair across so that he could sit right next to Owen as they ate. Owen leant into his side, poking his soup periodically with his spoon. Louis set his own spoon down, glancing over at Owen.
“Owen.” Louis whispered.
“Not hungry, you can have mine.” He muttered. His stomach rumbled traitorously.
“I made enough soup to feed a small army, if wanted more I would go get some. You can eat it.” He insisted. Owen grumbled slightly but took a spoonful of soup.
Louis didn’t move. Owen took another spoonful. The food was almost painfully good, finally filling his stomach after not having eaten in a day. He forced himself to go pointedly slow, and not overstuff himself too quickly. Louis didn’t continue eating his own dinner until Owen had half finished his bowl. They ate in comfortable quiet, Owen’s head on Louis’s shoulder and Louis’s hand on Owen’s knee under the table.
Louis stood slowly when they finished eating. He picked up the plates and spoons and walked into the kitchen, Owen trailing behind. They worked together to wash and dry the few dishes they had used, and put them away.
“I think we earnt some cuddle time.” Louis declares, leading Owen in to the bedroom.
Owen slumps onto the bed beside him, rolling into Louis’s chest. He twists his arms around the other man, pressing as close as he could. Louis’s arms wrap around him, trailing up and down his back in smooth, repetitive motions. These small moments with him are bliss.
“Owen,” Louis starts slowly, “I have something I want to ask you.”