Work Text:
If Heath had to describe a picture-perfect morning a year or two ago, it would probably be something along the lines of a weekend, with a fresh pot of instant joja-brand coffeemaker coffee and no leftover paperwork to file.
The only thing that hasn't changed since then, is the weekend.
Even though a farmer's job is pretty much seven days a week, there was still that charm about those two days of the week that made him more comfortable with sleeping in.
And the warm, soft body next to him was very much enabling him to do just that.
A small smirk crossed Heath's features as he twisted his body and closed the space between them. Throwing an arm around his husband, he pressed a soft kiss to the back of his head with practiced ease.
„Guess who?“ he purred, eagerly awaiting the snort his reply would surely garner. A few sleepy mumbles later, Shane gave a small, sleepy puff as he turned to meet the taller man's eyes.
„Mornin' to you too,“ came the reply, accompanied by an amused smile that never failed to make Heath blush. Apparently encouraged by that reaction, Shane continued, „Whassa' matter, cat got your tongue?“
As on cue, a meow sounded from the kitchen, indicating their little roommate was up and awake, out for blood with an appetite three times its size.
„Not yet,“ Knowing full well he'd regret it shortly, instead of getting up Heath nestled against his partner further and buried his head in the crook of his neck. Trailing his hands along the other's chest slowly until they found purchase around Shane's soft midsection, the soft tenor murmured into his beloved's ear once again, „but we have some time before it does.“
This garnered him a huff that came out more as a laugh, spurring him on even further. He pressed soft kisses wherever his lips could reach without moving his head away from the very comfortable space between his jaw and collarbones.
„What's gotten into you?“ his tone was as light as Heath had ever heard it be, making his easily-excitable heart swell with joy. His husband was doing so well.
„My love for youuuu,“ he singsang, words muffled by his cheek squishing a bit more into Shane and arms languidly moving to wrap a little bit lower, just around his hips until he could practically feel the warmth rising up into Shane's cheeks.
„Didn't know you were the type to slack off on a work day, Heath.“ He teased, not willing to be out-done in their little game just yet. No, he had a streak to hold up. He twisted slightly, so he was lying on his back and could get a good look at his husband's reaction. And sure enough, Heath gave a tiny huff and pout, russet eyes breaking away from amethyst purple. Being called a slacker was a rather rare occurance.
He was about to retaliate, a playful poke at Shane's hairy chest or just sliding his hands even further down, when their cat decided it was displeased with the lack of attention its mewling was gathering and instead chose to jump on that very same chest, eliciting a small oomph from the purple haired man and making Heath flinch back as it landed a bit too close for comfort.
„Good morning to you too Crowley,“ with a near-breathless laugh, Shane reached up to scratch behind the critter's ear, the ginger little thing giving a reluctant purr.
„Looks like somebody's been getting into the bread cabinet again. Soon you're gonna be heavier than me.“
As Shane paid the cat the attention that it had so cruelly been denied in the three minutes its been awake, Heath lowered his head into his forearms and intently watched as his partner cooed to the cat, not really paying attention to what was being said. Instead, lulled by the rumbling baritone of Shane's voice, he took in his features. The messy fringe of his slightly greasy purple hair, growing thicker on what were once shaved sides. The small rolls under his chin as he ducked his head to look the attention-grabbing kitty in the eyes as he spoke. The stubborn stubble adorning the lower half of his face, a five o clock shadow left untended to a bit too long. The way the sunlight played on his face, illuminating those beautiful eyes. The eyes so often shadowed by some melancholy darkness from within, now all sleepy half lidded smiles and amusement.
Heath wanted so badly to make that smile last.
As Shane's eyes slid over to meet his husband's once again, he took pause. Even after half a year of marriage and twice that of courting beforehand, he was still unused to the pure adoration those brown eyes radiated when looking upon him. His heart skipped a beat, amethyst sinking into russet once again while his husband showered him with silent affection without an ounce of shame.
The single moment without chin scratches was all it took for the cat to remember its original purpose for coming into their room, giving the offending humans the loudest meow so far, startling both out of their respective stupors.
However, it was not done, now meowing with a restored vigor and instead choosing its next target, the more tanned, blue haired man that had so rudely ignored it all this time! Five full minutes! How dare he!
„Aaah, Crowley, no bitey!“ Heath had attempted, but it was fruitless. Hell hath no fury like a cat denied breakfast, and it had only took not-so-little Crowley two seconds to cross the distance and nip at his shoulder and press itself against his face, almost as a crude imitation to what he had been doing to the man beside him minutes ago.
„I don't think anything other than wet food will calm him down now,“ Shane noted, the smirk audible in his voice, „that's what you get for ignoring the cat.“
The rather unimpressed look Heath shot at him was thoroughly blocked by a soft barrage of fur and cat.
„Alright, alright,“ With some effort, the taller man lifted the offending pet, getting up as gracefully as he could with two hands full of cat and walking off into the kitchen, „you win, my little alarm clock.“
Shane propped himself on his elbow, gaze following Heath into the kitchen, taking his turn to watch his husband. From the messy, persian blue undercut, to his matching boxers and the bronze expanse of everything in between. Lean appearance showcased the muscles under his skin, earned by two years of farming, mining and fighting. His back was littered with select scars of close scrapes with the monsters underground, and the associated memories.
Heath, not coming home on time. Shane, waking up to find the bed empty. Shane, getting a call from Harvey in the morning. Shane, assuming the worst.
Before his thoughts could get any more grim, Heath had already walked back to their room, the warm expression and messy hair putting him at ease. He was fine. Heath was okay and there and life was good.
Swinging his feet over his side of the bed, he bent down to pick up a pair of socks he discarded after last night's trip to the saloon. Likewise, Heath was collecting his clothes for the day, and as he picked up his favorite black shirt off the corner of the bed, he started idle conversation again,
„You know that you didn't win yet, right?“
Just like that, Shane's attention was torn from whatever what-if scenario playing in his head. Already in the process of pulling on his favorite green shirt he smiled, meeting his eyes for a second, „Didn't take you for a sore loser, Heath“
As he pulled on his shirt, Heath responded with an eyeroll, a traiterous smile playing on his lips betraying his lack of annoyance. The moment the shirt slipped over Shane's head, Heath bent down ever so slightly. Hands found purchase on his shoulders, long fingers bearing no weight, feather light against other's shoulders. Though they were far away from any prying ears, he leaned in closer and spoke with a playful whisper, sending a tingly shiver down his spine,
„Only if you win round two, you get to claim the prize.“
And within a moment the touch was gone, the presence next to him already making graceful strides for the bathroom.
„Ta-ta, be out in a minute,“
Though the moment was brief, the damage was already done. Shane's face lit up in a renewed blush, and as he watched the the blue fringe and cloth disappear behind the doors, he realized two things.
First, what Heath was suggesting.
Second, that the same Heath had taken advantage of the impact said suggestion had to claim the bathroom for what would undoubtedly be at least an hour. Probably more. Most likely more.
An hour to ponder on exactly what Heath had planned for 'later today'.
Upon stepping out of the room, a now much less shouty and more cuddly Crowley tangled itself around his legs as he set to brewing coffee.
Today, he thought, seems like a day for pepper poppers.