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Norton’s muscles felt numb; he rolled his shoulder as he stretched his back, popping it with a groan of absolute tiredness. The mine shift was nothing easy to deal with: 12 hours of torture plus the hour and a half of getting to and leaving the place… His bones complained, and he was only 32. But he wanted his own house and to buy a ring for his boyfriend eventually, and so…
He manned up, fought through the 12 hours of emotional and physical torture, and now, he was struggling to enter the key into the door. Like an idiot.
He gives up, because the migraine is already making him struggle enough. He licks over his lips, playing with his lip piercing softly as he bites the inside of his cheek. He swallows his pride like it’s nails down his throat, and he knocks.
Softly, at first, just three soft bumps against the old wood, because it’s 1:00 AM sharp and he knows for a fact that he must be fast asleep.
Florian’s last shift was also 12 hours long in what must be like actual real Hell; he was a firefighter after all. He’d gotten home by the time Norton was rushing through his broke-ass breakfast that consisted of half a banana and a coffee. They said their hi’s and goodbye’s like they usually did: sleepy, with a barely-missing kiss, and a “good luck” muttered against Norton’s neck. That was probably the last conscious thing that Florian Brand did before passing out in bed and sleeping through everything.
So Norton is surprised when the door opens at the third knock. Florian stands at the door with his hair all messed up and wearing only his gray sweatpants, his posture perfect, because of course. “Mmm, forgot your keys?” Florian leans forward, like Campbell isn’t dying to just lie down and pass out, and the blonde just rests his head against his shoulder.
Florian smells nice, cold like the AC unit, and what was totally Norton’s shampoo mixed with that sunny warmth that all his clothes had, but it was clean; cleaner than the sweat and that slight dirt and metal smell of the mines.
“No. I just felt lazy. Sorry for waking you,” He drawls his words, lips pressing softly against the freckled skin of Florian. He was pale as hell for a man who went into fires like it was an Olympic sport, and he was a pro.
“Ah.” He can feel the smile, big and stupid, on the blonde’s lips even with his eyes closed, so he rolls his eyes.
“Don’t say anything. Too tired for that, too.” Florian snorts as a reply, tugging him inside, hand sliding to hold Norton by the waist.
The apartment is just how Norton left it in the morning, slightly messy, in a way you can tell people lived in it. The kitchenette has one more pan on top, so Norton can assume that his boyfriend actually made breakfast before sleeping away. That was nice to know.
“Come to bed, I want to hold you before my shift.” Florian whines against his neck, trying to drag him into the bedroom.
Norton feels the tension of the day, and all the awful coworkers die out, going straight to Hell now that he gets to be close to the spawn of sunshine he has at home. His own heaven, in a way that he would’ve laughed about years before. “I’m nasty, I should shower.” He grumbles out, using very little force to tug back.
“Mmm, no…” It’s a whiny sound that sounds petty, cute in its own ridiculousness. “Just sleep- you can shower in the morning while I make breakfast.” He drops to his knees in a movement that thuds down against the thin carpet, hugging Norton’s back, pressing his face against the miner’s abdomen, nuzzling softly against the dusty black shirt that Norton wore for work.
“Stop acting so pathetic, Brand.” Campbell’s hand twitches, his fingers hesitating before he places one callused hand over the soft strands of blond hair he loves so much. “I smell like shit and grime.” Florian presses him closer with a groan, clearly not giving up the point. They go for a beat of silence, just a moment in which neither moves nor speaks. Norton shifts his hand placement, cupping Florian’s cheek to tilt his head up, staring into that yellowish green orb that held so much love inside. “And stop staring at me like that.” Norton feels his neck go warm, and he feels that slight itch up his throat as he swallows saliva.
“Hmm…” Florian leans into the touch, his eyelashes fluttering as he closes his good eye, that irritating cunning smirk of his reappearing as soon as it left. “Then…” Silence for a second, but Norton knows in his gut this is only leading to teasing. Florian tilts his head, pressing his lips against Norton’s palm, pressing a soft, intimate kiss against the sun-kissed skin. “Shower with me?” He makes the best imitation of puppy eyes of his, licking over his fangs in a way that was totally not innocent.
Norton scowls, using his other hand to press his knuckles harshly against Florian’s mop of hair; Florian falls back, forearms bouncing back to stop himself from falling cold against the carpet, and he laughs, because he’s infuriating like that; he laughs with amusement as he leans away, head tipped back as he chuckles.
“What? Did I make you blush, wife?” Norton wants to kick him, but he simply rolls his eyes, turning away towards the bathroom. He knows better than to indulge his pain-in-the-ass behaviors. “Oww, but I want your attention!” He doesn’t move an inch from his spot, though, and Norton slams the bathroom door closed with a groan.
His muscles coil back when the cold water shakes the tiredness out of him. He feels dirty, like always after his shifts. Glancing down at his feet, he can see the dirt just sliding off into the drain. He takes his time, because that’s all he has at 1:00 AM, time.
When he’s fresh out, walking in his boxers, he can see Florian still seated on the floor, just more comfortably, his legs criss-crossed, head tilted about 45 degrees to the side, the left specifically, patiently waiting and most likely plotting. The moment Norton gives him a side glance, the blond is on his feet with a bounce, not even struggling, draping himself over his boyfriend like he weighs nothing, but he does. Especially when Norton’s joints complained from so many hours of manual work. “You’re heavy,” He wrestles slightly with his boyfriend, whose slight height advantage was enough to keep him down.
“Whaaat?!” Florian gasps dramatically, pouting his lips against the brunet’s hair, then pressing a soft kiss against the damp strands of hair. Norton gets the upper hand for just about a second, pinching Florian’s cheeks slightly as he snorts a laugh.
Just after the soft but raspy sound leaves Norton’s throat, Florian grabs him by the waist, lifting him off the floor and carrying him on his shoulder like Norton isn’t heavy. The brunet lets out a small surprised gasp, but relaxes right after, used to his boyfriend’s antics. “Actually stupid how much weight you can carry.” He grumbles, pressing his face against the bare shoulder skin of Florian, who lets out a chuckle.
“Trained all my life to carry my tired wife to bed.” He responds with a stupid smile, without even hesitating over the words, and he starts walking the few steps to the bedroom with ease, not even shifting Norton’s weight at all.
He lets the brunet fall softly, hand below his head, making sure he lies perfectly below him in the bed. And Norton is pliant, like whenever he wants to sleep, and Florian is being a menace to his lifespan and quality of life.
Florian leans in, kissing the skin of Norton’s face like he’s devoted to a God. First, his warm lips press against his nose, making the coldness go away in one soft tap. Then, his hands move to mess up Norton’s hair, and Norton exhales slightly, feeling relaxed. Florian keeps pressing his lips, first his cheeks, then his forehead, his neck, the corner of his eyes, the line of his jaw.
His hands trace Norton’s body, his neck, and then his chest; there’s something sweet in it. Worship, in a way that isn’t inherently sexual, just loving. The way Florian’s fingers trace the lines of Norton’s body, the way his nails scratch at the scars of his skin, the way he follows the burn mark wherever it goes. Norton loves it even when he doesn’t say it out loud.
Lastly, Florian leans and presses a kiss to Norton’s lips, tasting the toothpaste on the brunet’s lips; the blond’s hands go flat on the sides of Norton’s head, caging him in as he presses forward, knee bumping between his thighs to try and make space for himself.
Norton blows air into Florian’s mouth, taking the blond by surprise and leaning back, frowning. “Hey!” He tries to push back to claim the space, to which Norton replies with a soft chuckle.
“Stop it, Florian.” He says, and even if it’s lighthearted, it carries the weight of a request, which makes the blond snap back straight, obedient as he is. “I’m sleepy.” The brunet tilts his head, shifting on the bed to make space for the blond. “Just… sleep.” He mutters, face against the pillow as he yawns.
Florian makes a sound that’s almost a purr, smile softening at the edges as he leans closer, pressing himself against Norton. “Is age catching up to you?” Florian whispers against his hair, pressing another soft kiss. Norton closes his eyes, huffing before replying.
“Acting like you aren’t 27 and climbing up numbers.” He turns his torso slightly, finding calm against Florian’s chest. The blond intertwines their fingers, kissing Norton’s knuckles softly. “I’ll laugh when you’re 60 and can’t arch your back.” He adds, curling within himself into a fetal position, feeling sleep overtake his senses.
Florian hums as a reply, not trying to disturb the wave of sleep that carries Norton, instead just resting his chin against the brunet’s fluffy hair, finally closing his eyes as he holds Norton in his sleep.
Norton wakes up at 5:00, exact. His inner clock is strong as hell, plus it's hard to ignore the feeling of being watched.
He peeks one eye open, and as he guessed, he finds himself face to face with Florian. He feels the exhales of warm breath from his boyfriend, and smiles softly. “Nothin’ better to do? Your shift starts at 7.” He reminds Florian, because he feels like he has to be responsible, even on his days off.
Florian’s eyes soften, leaning to kiss Norton. “Can’t a man enjoy the best view in the city before working his ass off for 12 hours?” He hides his face against Campbell’s neck, his tongue sliding out to press against the pulse, which makes Norton shiver. “I made you breakfast.” He whispers out, his fangs pressing softly against the curvature of the brunet’s neck, sliding his tongue over right after.
Norton groans, trying to cover himself with the sheets. “Why are you making breakfast before 5 AM? What’s your problem?” He practically hisses, and Florian laughs. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m too sleepy to have breakfast.” He complains, to which the blond tilts his head, nuzzling against his neck again.
“I’ll bring it to bed. Hm?” He isn’t really asking, as he already bounces off the bed, stretching once more as he walks towards the kitchenette. Now that the bedroom door was open, Norton could smell the breakfast scent. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs. His stomach turns, and he feels his face warm.
It was still odd to live with someone, even after 6 months of taking such a big step… He still felt pampered each morning, and it was somehow as embarrassing as it was flattering. Even if Florian had the bad habit of calling him a wife, Norton barely did anything home-y, whilst the blond went out of his way to make the apartment feel like a domestic bliss Heaven.
He sulks slightly, but before he can ponder and guilt himself further, Brand is back with a full plate, a glass of orange juice, and a smile. He balances it all out like it’s nothing, as per usual. “You’re insufferably perfect.” He mutters, sitting up on the bed and stretching, wincing when his back and neck pop. Still, he tries his best to work with the numbness in his body.
Florian replies with a full laugh, handing him the plate and letting the glass rest on the bedside table. He tilts his head to the side, acting like he’s confused. “Just for you, princess.” He teases, turning his back to start getting ready for the day.
And of course, since the blond can’t be near Norton without trying to get laid, he starts undressing without shame.
Norton has seen him naked a hundred times before, but he can’t stop himself from glaring, cheeks flushing as he chews on the pancake slightly harder, jaw clenching as he feels his mouth slightly drier than usual. He squints, looking away. “You’re such a-” He chokes on the word, glancing back just for his eyes to zero in on Florian’s abs, making him choke on the food. “Show-off…” He finishes after a moment, closing his eyes as he goes back to eating.
“I am sure that’s not the word you wanted to use, but fine.” Florian arches his back, the muscles tensing and untensing as he rolls his shoulder. He was hot. And hot was probably not enough of an adjective for Norton to describe it.
They go a moment without talking. Florian stares at Norton through the full-length mirror, mesmerized by the brunet eating, even as he gets himself ready. He smiles once Norton notices, and they make eye contact.
Norton wasn’t sappy by any means of the word, and yet, in the haze of the morning, the bird chirping, the slight bluish tint of the room thanks to the natural lighting, the softness of the silence and the quiet domesticity, he couldn’t quite stop himself from swallowing the food and mouthing a silent “I love you,” followed by a subtle head tilt and a closed-eyes smile, the softest of his gestures.
Florian blushes before he replies, smiling through the clear surprise of the sudden affection, his pupils dilated and his smile somehow more unhinged. “I love you too.” He says it way too loud and way too proud, and Norton snorts softly, looking down at the food again.
He could get used to this for the rest of his life, definitely.