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English
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Part 1 of by any other name
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The Body Count
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Published:
2022-11-17
Words:
664
Chapters:
1/1
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33
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577
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of easy wind and downy flake

Summary:

When Grian speaks, his voice is low– a genuflection to the pale luminescence peeking through the gap in his curtains. "Oh," he says, and a note of awe rounds out the syllable. "Scar, I think Christmas might've just come early."

Notes:

WOOOO TUMBLR PROMPT LETS GOOOOOOO!!! This hit the "over 500 words" arbitrary goalpost so in my head it's post-worthy to AO3 now. Also I'm just excited because I finished a different, 7k word scarian rough draft that I've been reliably informed is "a doozy." Take this as you will. In the meantime, I'm slamming out a few short prompts because the writing brain is in a good mood.

Prompt for this was snowed in, and the title was yoinked from Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" because it fit the vibe. Enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

When Grian speaks, his voice is low– a genuflection to the pale luminescence peeking through the gap in his curtains. "Oh," he says, and a note of awe rounds out the syllable. "Scar, I think Christmas might've just come early."

A soft rustle to his left. "Wuzzat?" Scar mumbles through the faint susurrus of sheets, sleep-drenched and unintelligible. When Grian glances down at him, his eyes are narrowed slits, gleaming beneath dappled moonglow. Nestled in their bed like this, he's the epitome of comfort; hair soft and mussed against his pillow, eyes blinking cat-like slow in the semi-darkness. When he shifts, the faint imprint of wrinkled fabric sticks to his cheek.

Grian smothers his snicker with one hand pressed against his teeth. "Sit up," he says, reaching out to nudge Scar awake with an elbow. "And look outside."

"It's cold, Grian," Scar groans, but squirms until he can brace himself upright, blankets falling to pool at his waist. Instead of peering outside the window, however, Scar scoots back, shuffling to the side until, with an unceremonious grunt, he drapes his entire body over Grian's back and wings.

Grian lets out an involuntary oof. "That's not looking," he protests, but the exasperation is fond, wreathing its way around his voice. Despite the unexpected weight, Grian doesn't shake Scar off just yet– the warmth is nice, solid, and Scar sweetens the deal by burying his nose into the hollow between Grian's neck and shoulder, pressing syrupy kisses into any exposed sliver of skin he can reach.

"I'm looking, I'm looking," comes the eventual, muzzy reply. A beat, then: "My eyes just aren't available for comment yet, that's all."

Grian sighs, wings twitching against the ache that's beginning to crawl through them. "Open your eyes, Scar. And look out the window."

Another dreamy moment passes; Scar kisses his shoulder one more time before pulling his head back from the crook of Grian's neck, shifting, and– there. Scar's entire body jolts as if electrocuted; Grian can't stifle the laugh that barks from his throat.

"Oh my gosh," Scar yelps. "It's snowing!"

"Sure is," Grian tells him. He lifts one arm to nudge the curtains open another inch, cozying further into Scar's embrace as some of the darkness peels back. Outside, entire mountains of white powder have piled up against his starter base. "Y'know, I don't think we're gonna be able to work in that," he adds. "I know it's a bit of a challenge, but how do you feel about sleeping in?"

Scar's voice holds an indignant cast. "How am I supposed to sleep in when there's snow, Grian?"

"Well if you laid back down–"

"You got me up in the first place!" Scar curls around him, chest vibrating with the rumble of his voice. When Grian twists to face him, Scar's eyes are shining. "Come on, we gotta make– snowmen! And– and snow angels, and hot chocolate–"

"Tea," Grian says firmly. "Tea first. Hot chocolate later."

"Tea first," Scar concedes, nodding along with solemn motions. "Can't mess up your routine."

"No, we cannot." Grian says, prim. "Right, we'll think about snowmen later, but right now I'm calling it a rest day and going back to bed."

Scar's arms coil over his chest, pulling him even closer; another lingering kiss is folded into Grian's shoulder, pressed with care and accompanied by warm breath fanning over his skin. "Sounds good," Scar murmurs, muffled. "Love you."

On the window is a spiral of frost, delicate and miniscule, a creeping pattern that arrests Grian's eyes. He traces over its path, meandering until it disappears behind the curtain– fingers tightening in the sheets, pulse a gentle stumble. Inside his heart is a low, simmering fire, winding thick between his ribs and crawling up his throat, burning him from the inside out. Without looking, he fumbles for Scar's hand, and leaves a kiss of his own against scarred knuckles.

"Love you too," Grian breathes, and the warmth floods through him, inside and out.

Notes:

If you read this you should comment on the fic and also tell me what your favorite season is /gen.

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