Work Text:
The stone walls wrapping Olruggio’s workshop warmed under the rising late summer sun, oranges and golds dripping down the mortared joins in the brickwork. It pressed against the back of Olruggio’s tunic, catching the flowing fabric and breathing more warmth into it.
The nib of his pen knocked against the bottom of his inkpot with a small clink that made Olruggio’s wrist still. It couldn’t have been that long, surely.
His eyes swept over the mess of books, drafts, and notes — adjustments scribbled out and replaced over and over — and pressed his fingers against his tired eyes. He could already feel the gentle bruises forming underneath them, and the ink not quite dried into his fingerprints left their black blush to accentuate them. He sighed before stretching his arms up and finally correcting the slouch his back had been hooked into since the day before. A content rumble vibrated through his throat as a series of pops crackled up his spine and through his elbows.
A single quiet rap of a knuckle against the wood of his door made Olruggio lean forward to peek over his workspace. Leaning on his palms to leverage himself a little higher.
Qifrey skilfully slid in and closed the door whisper-quiet. The white-blue dressing gown draped over his shoulders and tied loosely at his waist made a small smile warm Olruggio’s face. Delicate embroidered violets spilled over Qifrey’s square shoulders, and down the half-length sleeves. Deep gold tassels swished against the bottom hem, framing the thin skirt and sleep pants. Olruggio tried not to let his eyes linger for too long at the press of Qifrey’s knee as it moved the fabrics.
A waft of something sweet made Olruggio glide down to meet Qifrey. “You’re up early.” His words were thick from exhaustion but lilted from the smile on his face nonetheless. It wasn’t unusual for the other man to be up so early — they commonly would pass each other in the kitchen with Olruggio heading to sleep as Qifrey was prepping the atelier to wake. But he didn’t often come looking into Olruggio’s workspace this early.
“I was having a hard time sleeping.” The answer was simple. Qifrey held up his hands, showing the small plate covered with a tea towel and a small pot wisping steam. “I thought you may be awake as well.”
“Always a good bet.” Olruggio gestured toward the hanging lounger, rumpled soft blankets and embroidered pillows peeking and spilling over the edge. Taking the steaming pot from Qifrey, he glided up, crossing his legs and pulling some of the pillows away from the edge and rearranging them against the stone wall. “Join me then.”
“Olly—” Qifrey couldn’t get any farther into his protest before Olruggio was away with their tea. He hesitated for a moment, thumb rubbing against the raw cuticle of his index finger for a half-second, before joining Olruggio on the lounger.
Qifrey set the plate down between them while he pulled the pillows into a more comfortable arrangement. One of the thick woven blankets partly thrown over both of their calves. Another of them folded unevenly under its heavy fabrics rested under Qifrey’s elbow.
Without a word between them Olruggio poured their teas, pulling a small pot of honey from a shelf in the wall and adding some to Qifrey’s saucer. He held it out for the other to take when he deemed it sweet enough.
Accepting the tea, Qifrey pulled the tea towel back. The warm, sweet smell made Olruggio hum in the back of his throat. “They’re a little misshapen, but they used up the last bits of fruits the girls and I had chopped earlier this week.” Qifrey’s long fingers delicately picked up one of the muffins, quartz sugar sparkling over the puffed tops. “But they should still be alright.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Qifrey.” Olruggio leaned closer and stole a bite from the muffin Qifrey was holding.
“Hey!” Qifrey pantomimed offence.
“They’re pretty good, you should try one,” Olruggio said around the bite in his mouth, trying not to laugh. He washed the bite down with a sip of tea and sagged against the pillows.
Qifrey shifted where he sat, moving closer to Olruggio. Their sides pressed against one another and legs moving to be tangled. “Perhaps I will.”
Olruggio took another sip of his tea before setting the saucer on the windowsill. He grabbed the plate between him and Qifrey and moved it there as well, closing the space it had made between them. His fingers grabbed the woven throw blanket around their legs and pulled it higher.
“Olly…,” Qifrey’s voice was low, sounding shy in a way he wasn’t. Trembling uncertainty that had only come out when they were boys.
“I don’t expect anythin’.” Olruggio cuddled in closer, his head falling heavily against the jut of Qifrey’s collarbone and neck. “I promise.”
A moment passed. Stillness of the earliest morning pressing gently against the two men.
Olruggio let out a sigh. Mouth dropping open as he sagged heavier against Qifrey, a light snoring rumbling out of him.
“You work yourself too hard,” Qifrey whispered the words against Olruggio’s hair. Carefully he took a bite from the muffin in his hand and a sip of his tea before also abandoning them on the sill next to Olruggio’s. He pulled Olruggio in closer, hiding his face in the soft fabric of his dressing gown and tugged the thick blanket over the two of them.
Qifrey pressed a featherlight kiss to Olruggio’s hair and leaned his head back, closing his eye, and enjoyed the weight of the other draped over him.