Work Text:
—
“Hat Guy?” Durin asks tentatively as he approaches the dark-haired man. His hands twitch a little at his sides; Durin still doesn't really know what to do with them a lot of the time, but Albedo told him that fidgeting lets everyone else know he's nervous, too, so he's trying not to do it too much.
Wanderer turns around to glance at him, dropping the wet rag he was holding in the sink. They're in Albedo's apartment in Mondstadt, though the alchemist himself is currently out on an important meeting, leaving the two of them alone to take care of the house in his absence.
“What is it?” Wanderer asks after drying his hands, his tone soft in the way it ever really is around Durin.
It makes Durin feel - things. He's still not really good at translating the physical reactions of his body into actual words, but it makes him feel a little softer, too, whenever he realizes just how patient Wanderer is with him. With anyone else, he would add, spit it out already, but since it's Durin he just crosses his arms and waits with a neutral expression.
“I-I was just thinking,” Durin starts, glancing away to stare at the wall and then quickly glancing back when he remembers, eye contact. Right. Thank the Archons that Wanderer never judges him for being a little awkward. “We, um, used to cuddle sometimes, back when I was still a full dragon… But I haven't tried it yet with this body. And I… was just wondering… uh, how it would work?”
One of Wanderer's eyebrows raises slightly. “How cuddling works?” He repeats, and then scoffs a little. “It's not going to be any different now that you're human. The logistics of it didn't suddenly change overnight just because you did.”
“Well, I know that, I just meant-” Durin huffs, flapping his hands once in front of him before closing them so he's not tempted to do it again. “It's just, I have all these extra limbs now, and I'm taller, so obviously it's going to be… different. In some way, at least.”
Wanderer hums in understanding. “Is this your way of asking me to cuddle with you?” He asks, the corners of his mouth twitching, as if he wants to smile.
Durin shifts a bit on his feet, glancing away again. “...Yeah,” He admits after a moment, feeling his face warm up. Perhaps he should have just asked directly, but then again, it doesn't really matter when Wanderer is this good at reading him anyway.
Wanderer leads him to Albedo's guest room so they can grab some blankets and pillows from the bed. While in there, he stops in front of the bookshelf and asks Durin if he wants him to read a story.
Durin immediately brightens up. For some reason, he keeps forgetting that Albedo has tons of fairytale books for whenever Klee visits. He loves the ones full of pictures, and Wanderer never complains about reading them aloud, even though Durin could just do it himself.
They grab one from the Tales of a Snow-Winged Goose collection - the third volume, which Durin hasn't read yet. He trudges happily after Wanderer as they walk out of the bedroom and into the living room, where Durin swiftly lifts the fireplace so they can warm up.
After setting his hat on the table, Wanderer puts the pillows down on the couch and grabs the softest blanket before sitting down on the right side. Durin hesitates, slowly walking closer before sitting down stiffly, with a good amount of distance between them.
Wanderer lets out a short laugh. “What are you doing?”
He doesn't sound mocking, exactly, but Durin feels his face warm up nonetheless, and ducks his face in embarrassment. “I-I just, I don't know, I didn't want to immediately be in your space-”
“Well, too bad, it’s kind of required for cuddling,” Wanderer huffs, shaking his head. “Come on, get closer.”
Durin does, shifting to the right and stopping once he's right by Wanderer's side, their thighs touching. Wanderer sighs, putting an arm around Durin's shoulders and pulling him closer, until Durin's head comes to rest on his shoulder.
He shifts slightly, feeling the soft fabrics of Wanderer's clothes against his cheek. Durin realized recently that everyone has their own distinct smell, as if they carry the scents of their home or whichever place they spend a lot of time in, wherever they go. It's subtle, but Durin's nose is more sensitive than most, to the point where he can sometimes recognize someone's scent long after they've left a space.
Wanderer smells like the rainforests in Sumeru. Durin could recognize the scent anywhere, even though he's only been to Sumeru once so far.
“You're so tense,” Wanderer mumbles, shifting his arm so he can rest his hand on Durin's head, just beside his left horn. “Take a deep breath in, and then let it out.”
He does, and on the exhale, his whole body relaxes slightly, melding itself against Wanderer's side. Durin takes another deep breath as Wanderer's hand moves, long fingers carding through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp.
A quiet noise escapes Durin's throat all on its own. He brings his legs on the couch, turning his whole body sideways so he can be even closer to his friend, nuzzling his face against Wanderer's collarbones. Wanderer laughs quietly, bringing his other arm around Durin so he can hold him in a loose hug, his blunt nails tracing along the base of his horn.
“Feels good?” He murmurs, and Durin nods, only able to let out a deep sigh instead of words.
Wanderer is so warm. Not as warm as Durin, obviously - being a dragon and a Pyro user will do that to someone -, but still enough that being this close to him makes all the nervous energy in Durin's body fade away, until he's little more than putty under his touch.
It's funny; for as long as he's known him, Wanderer often likes to say he has no heart, and that's why he's not as nice as other people. Durin has never understood why he tells such obvious lies, when he can feel the thrum of life just underneath his cheek, pulsing deep beneath Wanderer's skin.
How could he have no heart yet hold Durin so gently, of his own volition, when he's not even an affectionate person to begin with?
He feels Wanderer rest his cheek atop Durin’s head, causing him to tense again. “Are you - uh, comfortable like that?” He asks hesitantly.
Wanderer pauses. “...Yes,” He says after a moment, confusion turning his tone slightly judgemental. “Are you?”
Durin lets out an uncertain noise. “Yeah, i-it’s just - I mean, I know I’m pretty… sharp. Everywhere. And my horns are kind of in the way. I just, I don’t wanna hurt you by accident.”
Wanderer lets out a huffed breath. His fingers move again, and Durin really can’t help the way he melts against him once more. No one has ever petted his hair before, and it feels amazing.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” Wanderer says, quietly, but without an ounce of incertitude - as if the thought alone is completely absurd. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Something clogs up Durin’s throat, and he hides his face in his friend’s chest to try and quell the sudden burning sensation behind his eyes. It’s just… sometimes, he still expects everyone to fear him, or run away and abandon him the second Durin makes a mistake. He’s constantly terrified of hurting anyone, because the last thing he wants is to drive all his new friends away and end up all alone again.
But Wanderer has never once been scared of him - not even back in Simulanka, when he saw Durin at his worst. He’s only ever been patient and understanding and so, so kind. And he always acts like the possibility of Durin doing something unforgivable is just - completely impossible.
It makes Durin feel normal, in a way he rarely does with anyone else. He’s always overly conscious of the heart beating in his chest, constantly pumping Abyssal energy in his veins. Yet, whenever he’s around Wanderer, it becomes so quiet he can easily ignore it, even if just for a moment.
Durin feels something pressing against the top of his head for a moment, and it's only when Wanderer shifts to rest his cheek there again that Durin realizes it was a kiss. A soft noise escapes him, and he can feel the tip of his tail wagging happily on the couch. One of his wings moves to wrap around Wanderer's body, because suddenly their embrace doesn't feel close enough, and Durin doesn't know what to do with the flurry of soft warmth filling up his insides, squeezing his heart almost painfully.
Wanderer lets out a quiet laugh, and Durin can feel him smiling against the top of his head. “Are you ready for your bedtime story?” He asks, and Durin is aware that he's trying to tease him but he nods enthusiastically nonetheless, uncaring for once that he's being a little childish.
He moves alongside Wanderer as his friend reaches for the book, though they easily settle back into the couch together. Durin turns his head just enough to look at the pretty drawings in the books, letting Wanderer's deep, calming voice wash over him as he starts to read.
The story is sad yet hopeful at the same time. It’s about realizing how finite life is, but deciding to enjoy it as much as possible anyway, and it places a special kind of attention on platonic bonds and their ability to transcend lifetimes. Durin absorbs it all with rapt attention, but he just feels so safe and warm, cuddled up against Wanderer’s side, that with every turn of page it becomes harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open.
It’s three pages before the end when Wanderer notices just how heavy Durin feels against him, his breathing turning deep and slow. He smiles and finishes reading the story anyway, though he’s careful not to bother the sleeping boy draped all over him when setting the book down again.
He’ll definitely pretend to be annoyed at this later, but for now Wanderer simply closes his eyes as well, letting the sound of Durin’s steady breathing slowly lull him to sleep.
—
Albedo grins at the sight that greets him as soon as he walks into the living room, chest filled with a soft warmth that he rarely feels around other people, save for Klee and Alice.
Wanderer and Durin are both sleeping soundly on the couch, bodies half-hidden under a soft blanket, though he can clearly see that Durin’s legs are resting over Wanderer’s lap, his wing draped over the two of them. Wanderer has one arm loosely wrapped around the dragon’s shoulders, the other lost in his hair, his face half-hidden in the mess of purple strands. They both have peaceful expressions on their faces as occasional quiet snores reach the alchemist’s ears.
He stands there for a moment longer than strictly necessary, and then walks towards his office to grab the nearest sketchbook he can find, because this certainly is the kind of scene that deserves to be immortalized on paper forever.
—