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Chase was warm.
Chase was always so warm, Buddy thought absently, nuzzling closer to the boy beside him. Deacon might have been watching them from the other side of the truck, or maybe he was awkwardly avoiding eye contact; Buddy didn't particularly care.
Chase was warm. He was like the sun, emanating a soft heat at all times. Buddy had felt it, over and over again, Chase's warmth against his cold. From fleeting touches in books to those careful hands cradling his small metal body, Chase was always warm.
He had expected that, he knew his boyfriend would be affectionate and kind. He had hoped, in the many times he dared to hope, that Chase would hold him so gently, would press warm, warm kisses to metal, that he could still feel his touch in books even after he knew that Buddy's cold skin was a reminder of how different they were.
He wasn't prepared for this.
For blood rushing beneath his skin again, to feel his bones so clearly and defined, to be able to press closer to Chase's warmth and for once match it with his own.
Even going into a book had been different.
Silver was never as good at changing forms, preferring to use clever tricks of fabric to create the illusion of modifications. She wouldn't have been able to mimic his human form like Violet always did, but she didn't need to.
His heart still beat in his chest, thumping faster as his eyes, no longer gem-like, met the honey brown gaze that held all the stars in the sky.
He could feel the heat of his own breath as he whispered a confession for only them to hear.
Chase shifted slightly, tilting his head to better meet Buddy's eyes "Hey" he muttered, voice low over the rumbling of the vehicle "You okay?".
Buddy hummed out a reply, too drowsy to respond verbally. He hadn't been tired in so long.
Chase laughed under his breath when Buddy pushed closer, one hand coming up to card through his hair; dexterous fingers working through dark strands. "Okay" he mumbled "We're almost home".
Home.
Buddy had never had a home before. All he had known were the streets, a table, and musty shelves under a library.
Home, home with Chase.
Chase had given him a home once, unknowingly. In the fraying bag he and Violet had slept in for weeks. They should pick that up from the library at some point.
Would Chase's home smell like him too? The way the duffel bag had? Like the hoodie he had left behind?
Chase smelled like sunlight trapped in a bottle, like a pleasant forest breeze ruffling your hair, like comfort and safety and warmth.
The fingers in his hair paused in favour of a warm kiss pressed to his forehead.
Home.
It sounded perfect.