#also the water heater is finally fixed!! yay for warm water!!!!

[stinkrascal]

good morning yall

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hello Hazel lovely✨

I am happy to announce that my heater is finally fixed 😭 the handy man came to my house and said a pipe was broken? no clue how that happened or how nothing exploded but hey I’m alive and now I’m just sitting in a warm room drinking lemonade 😎

Also!!

Hope you have been taking care, drinking water, eating, and getting enough sleep! And I hope you are enjoying your holiday and have fun in your upcoming trip!!

Lots of love,

—A finally warm sleepy

yay! i’m glad to hear that - silly stinky pipe breaking for no reason (bless the human for coming to fix it too, because it’s no fun being cold) -- I am actually about to leave to head out and gather some final items for the trip!! then next week I need to prepare for Christmas and the family, clean my house >< 

being an adult is hard

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

these chills didn’t come from the cold

@sanderssidescelebrations

Prompt #6: Sick

Warnings: sickness, obviously, but nothing gross/graphic at all

Pairings: Royality

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

This oneshot takes place sometime after the events of the fic Flirting with Danger I’m writing with @notveryglittery , the first chapter of which can be found here on tumblr and here on AO3! (No spoilers, unless you count the main pairing eventually getting together, which... what else did you expect?)

Patton woke in the middle of the night, still half-stuck in his dream of wandering through a snowy field.  He wasn’t much warmer in reality, and it took him a long moment of sleepy confusion to figure out that this was because he’d kicked all the blankets off his bed.  He grabbed his phone in order to make out where exactly they were and tried to reach for them without moving too much, squinting against the brightness, only to reach a little too far and end up face-down on the carpet with a muffled thud.  Oh well, he had the blankets back now.  At this hour, he really didn’t care where he fell asleep, as long as it wasn’t cold—he felt like he could hardly even move, he was so tired.

He got himself all wrapped up in the blankets without having to move too much, a snug little burrito on the floor, and tried to go back to sleep.  He kind of wanted to cry when it didn’t work. Using his phone in the darkness had given him a headache and made his eyes hurt, he was a little bit sore from falling off the bed, and after all that he was still cold.  Everything had been fine when he went to bed earlier! Why was this happening?? His head felt fuzzy and thinking was hard, so he struggled to get an arm out of the blankets to reach his phone and called the one person who could make it all better.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, and he felt a tiny bit better already upon hearing him mumble a sleepy “Hello..?”

Patton responded with a wordless sound of misery. “What?”  Roman’s voice got a bit clearer, and also a bit worried.  “Patton, darling, is something wrong? Why are you calling me at four in the morning?”

“M’cold,” he whined.  “Need you… fix it…”

Roman couldn’t stand to hear his love so unhappy, and immediately decided he didn’t really need any more sleep anyway.  “I’ll be there soon,” he promised, pushing himself out of bed.

“Yay… love you…”

“I love you, too.  I’ll see you in a few minutes, my dear, alright?”

Patton hummed in agreement and ended the call by way of moving a little and accidentally pressing the button with his face.

Soon enough, Roman landed on the balcony with its festive tinsel-wrapped railings, which he insisted on doing so often they’d given him his own key for that door.  He was still in his pajamas and didn’t even have shoes on, but it didn’t matter much, since the slight frost outside melted away around him before he ever touched it.  He let himself in quietly and made his way to Patton’s room to find his boyfriend on the floor, cocooned in a couple of blankets and shivering. He rolled over to look up at Roman when he heard him come in, his eyes shining with frustrated tears.  Roman hurried to sit down next to him and pull him into his arms.

“I’m here now, mi corazón, I’m here, don’t cry,” he soothed, rocking Patton gently.  “What are you doing on the floor?”

“Blankets,” said Patton, as if that explained everything.  Roman decided it wasn’t that important.

“Well, let’s get you back into bed, okay?  It’s much more comfortable than the carpet.”  

Roman scooped up the Pat-burrito effortlessly and set him on the bed.  He tried to go look for more blankets then, but Patton got his other arm free and made grabby hands, and the hero caved immediately- he’d probably be a better heat source himself, anyway.  He lay down next to his beloved and put an arm around his shoulders to hold him close and warm him up. Patton sighed and relaxed against him, leaning their heads together with a smile. It was a minute later before Roman’s eyes snapped open at the realization that Patton’s forehead should NOT have been the same temperature as his own.

He tried not to freak out, but it didn’t work very well.  Oh god, what was he supposed to do about this? How bad of a sign even was it?!  Roman didn’t know, he didn’t get sick like normal people!   Patton seemed like he might be asleep already, and in any case he probably wasn’t coherent enough right now to be much help.  How was he supposed to- oh, right, the internet. Roman wiggled his phone out of his pocket without disturbing Patton too much and searched, WHAT DO I DO ABOUT A FEVER??!?

The first few results told him it probably wasn’t a big deal unless it got above 103, and as long as that wasn’t the case all he could really do about it was make sure Patton stayed hydrated and as comfortable as possible.  That was both a relief and a disappointment; he wished there were something he could do to just fix it, like Patton had asked him to.  He hated letting him down just because of some stupid thing like the limitations of medical advancement.

“Patton,” he whispered.  “Patton? …Are you awake?”

A soft “mhm” in response told him that while he might not have been asleep, he was pretty darn close.

“I’m going to get up for a bit, okay?  You don’t seem to be feeling well, and I need to find a thermometer and make sure you don’t have a high fever.”  He began to ease himself up, only for Patton to latch onto his shirt. Physically he could have pulled away, but the emotional consequences would have been unbearable.

“Nooo,” Patton mumbled.  “Don’ go.”

“I’ll only be gone for a minute or two…”  Still, Patton wouldn’t let go, shaking his head stubbornly.  “Oh, all right. How about you come with me, then, and you can tell me where it is.”  He made sure the blankets were still secure, then lifted him bridal-style.

Patton accepted this development with the ease of someone who was quite used to it by now and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder.  “Medicine cabinet’s in the kitchen,” he reminded him. “Should be in there.”

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was sitting on the kitchen counter while Roman searched through the cabinet above his head.  Well, okay, sitting was a strong word for it. He was sort of upright, but mostly slumped against Roman’s chest, feeling like his muscles had been replaced with overcooked and vaguely achy spaghetti.  It wasn’t fun. He wanted to go back to sleep and stop feeling like this, but then there was a beep and Roman was nudging him and asking so nicely for him to open his mouth so he could take his temperature, and he sounded a little worried, and Patton didn’t want Roman to be worried, so he listened.

More beeps roused him from nearly falling asleep with the thermometer in his mouth.  Roman looked at the display and hummed. “Well, you don’t need a doctor, at least.”

“Mm.  That’s good.”  He didn’t want to go to a doctor.  He’d have to go outside for that, and outside was cold.

“You’re up around 102, though,” Roman continued.  As soon as he got the thermometer put away, he wrapped his arms around Patton, hugging him close as though he could physically defend him from whatever virus he’d caught.  “How are you feeling now, love? Is there anything you want?”

Patton thought about it for long enough that Roman began to wonder if he needed to wake him up again.  “Advil?” he finally said- that would make the spaghetti feel better, right? And his head? Roman nodded and kissed his forehead before rummaging through the cabinet again.  “An’ then sleep,” he added, pressing his face against Roman’s neck to hide from the light. “And you.”

Roman laughed softly and kissed him again.  “You already have me,” he pointed out while stretching to fill a glass of water while still holding Patton up.

“You could leave, though…”

“I would never!  What kind of hero, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you in your time of need?”  He scanned the directions on the label and then struggled to open the bottle in order to hand Patton one of the pills.  “Stupid childproof cap… Drink as much as you can, alright, love? I’m supposed to be giving you fluids.”

Patton took the medicine quietly and drained about a third of the glass.  He did his best to set it down, but his hands were shaky. Roman took it from him before he could spill water all over the counter.  “S’that good?”

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s perfect, thank you.”  He picked him up again. “Now, let’s get back to bed, shall we?”

Patton nodded, or perhaps he merely stopped trying to hold his head up.  Roman carried him back to his room and laid him in his bed. As soon as he returned from grabbing one more blanket and joined him, Patton cuddled up to his space-heater boyfriend and was out like a light.

When Virgil got up, it was almost noon.  (Don’t judge him, he had a late shift today, it was fine.)  He expected Patton to be long gone at this point. What he did not expect was to walk out of his room and find him cocooned in blankets on the living room couch, with Roman trying to coax him to eat something.  It wasn’t working very well. In fact, right as Virgil came in, he gave up and let Patton go back to sleeping on him instead.

“Uh… What’s going on?  Is Pat okay?”

Patton opened his eyes for half a second and gave him a tiny wave.  “Morn’n Virge… M’sick…” He didn’t seem too bothered by that fact, possibly due to all the attentive care it seemed to be getting him- not that he ever had any shortage of attention from Roman.  As Virgil was painfully aware.

“Virgil!”  Wow, Roman had never sounded that happy to see him before.  “Thank goodness- he called me last night, he has a fever, and I think I’m doing a fine job but this is not a foe I’ve ever had to face-”

“You have no idea what you’re doing.”

Roman nodded helplessly.

“Alright, let’s see…”  Virgil made his way over to the couch, intending to critique his efforts.  When he got closer, though, he quickly changed his mind. It looked like Roman hadn’t gotten much sleep, and he probably didn’t need Virgil being an asshole on top of that and worrying about his boyfriend.  “Well, you’re not messing it up that bad.”  Nailed it.  “He’s not gonna want solid food right now, though.  Make him some soup or something, I need to finish waking up.”

Virgil returned to his room and got dressed after a quick shower.  Before going back to the living room, he called out of work for the day and texted Remy to cover his shift.  He had a feeling he was going to be needed here.

…And it quickly became obvious just how correct he was.  Roman was now in the kitchen, awkwardly stirring the soup he was heating on the stove while also keeping Patton from falling off the counter.  Which, yes, Patton was on the counter. For some reason. He also seemed to be mostly asleep, what with how he was relying on Roman to keep him semi-upright.

“…Dude.”

Roman jumped and half-turned around, instinctively clutching Patton to his chest, who barely woke up and simply buried his face further in Roman’s shoulder.  “You have got to stop sneaking up on me like that!”  Meanwhile, a few wisps of darkness wrapped around the saucepan to steady it before it could spill hot soup everywhere.

“Hey, don’t yell at me when you’re doing… whatever this is.”

“I’m making soup!” Roman protested.  “You told me to make soup!”

“I mean… true.  Didn’t really expect you to need the stove for that, but.”

“Well, I couldn’t risk burning Patton!”

“Yeah, that brings us to our second question.  Why, exactly, is Patton even in here?”

“I did try to leave him on the couch, but he looked so sad, I couldn’t do that to him…”

Ah, of course.  If there were any exceptions to what Roman would do to keep Patton from being sad, they hadn’t been found yet.  Sometimes Virgil thought his roommate had too much power. He sighed. “Alright, you useless gay, go sit down. I’ll take care of the soup.”

Roman hadn’t realized how stressed the situation was making him until Virgil offered to help.  “Thank you,” he said, relief clear in his voice as he gathered Patton up to take him back to the living room.

“Yeah, yeah.”  Virgil shooed him away, slightly embarrassed.  “Get out of the kitchen before you try to knock everything over again.”

Patton tried to wave at him as they left the room, but he wasn’t sure how noticeable it was.  Everything was still incredibly heavy, including his hands and fingers. Good thing Roman was so strong.  Otherwise he’d probably have trouble carrying him around like this…

The next thing he knew, they were back on the couch, and he was in Roman’s lap.  That was good, it was cozier this way. He squirmed even closer, relaxing when Roman grabbed blankets from the other end of the couch to tuck around him.  Now it was nice and warm.

Roman noticed he seemed a bit more awake.  “Are you feeling any better, dearheart?” he asked gently, brushing Patton’s hair away from his face.  He couldn’t seem to stop asking that, every time Patton was conscious enough to answer. “Did you hear Virgil say he was going to make soup?”

Patton gave a muffled hum of agreement and asked hopefully, “Does that mean you’re staying here now?”  He didn’t like when Roman had to get up… his object permanence wasn’t the best at the moment and it made him nervous.  He didn’t like losing his source of warm cuddles, either.

“Yes, love, I’m staying.”

“Good.  S’comfy here.”  Patton closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew, Roman was trying to wake him up as gently as possible.  He stirred slightly, only to turn and burrow further into Roman without opening his eyes.

Roman cupped his face with one hand and turned his head.  “Hey, no, don’t go back to sleep yet…” He laughed softly as Patton still tried to resist being woken up.  “Don’t you want the soup Virgil so kindly finished making?”

“Yeah, I’ll be real sad if you don’t try it.”  Virgil poked Patton’s nose, trying to get his friend to smile.  It worked, and Patton finally blinked his eyes open.

“Okay,” he agreed.  “It smells good…” With Roman’s help, he sat up a bit better and disentangled himself from the blankets so he could eat it- mostly sipping the broth.

“Did you give him Nyquil before I got up or something?” Virgil wondered.

“Should I not have?  He woke up early in the morning and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I thought-”

“Nah, you did fine, I was just gonna be worried if he was this out of it without any of that.”  He sat on the other side of Patton and ruffled his hair fondly.  “I told you it was too cold to be going places without a coat, y’know.”

Patton just nodded, conceding that he was right.  Virgil gave Roman a bit more advice on taking care of him while he ate.  After finishing about half the bowl of soup, Patton turned and curled up in Roman’s lap again, face pressed against his neck.  Roman got the blankets re-situated, while Virgil went back to the kitchen to clean up. He returned to the living room to find Patton not immediately asleep like before, but rather complaining of a headache and unable to get comfortable.  That worried him enough to check his temperature again, but it still wasn’t high enough to be dangerous, thankfully.

“Hmm.  When was the last time he took medicine?”

Roman tried to think.  Half of his attention, both currently and at the time, was going to stroking Patton’s hair and whispering reassurances to help him feel better.  “Er… I believe it was before the sun rose?”

“Probably wearing off, then.  I’ll go grab some more.”

As soon as he left, turning off the lights on the way, Roman went back to talking to Patton.  “I know, love, I know you don’t feel well… it will be better soon, I promise…”

A minute later, Virgil dumped several different medicines on the coffee table.  “Alright, you’re not gonna like me for this, Pat, but it’s for your own good.”

He could barely make out Patton’s muffled protest of “I would never not like you!”

“If you say so.  Sit up and take this first, okay?”  He waited for him to be ready, then gave him a pill to help with the headache he’d been talking about.  “And, uh… sorry, but we only have the liquid Nyquil left right now, and I’m gonna make you take some so you won’t feel like shit.”

Patton immediately shook his head, which just made it hurt more, and tried to hide in Roman’s chest.  “I’m not taking that, it’s gross.” Virgil sighed. He got so childish when he was sick.

“Come on.  I get that it tastes bad, but it’s only in your mouth for like five seconds and then you can have something else to get rid of it.  I’ll go to the store and get the pill kind soon, but you gotta take this right now so you won’t feel bad the whole time I’m gone.”

He shook his head again.  “I’ll just wait.”

“No, Patton.  You know every time we do this, you end up saying you’re glad I made you take the gross medicine.”

He reached for Patton’s shoulder to coax him to turn around, but he only made it as far as getting a glimpse of the medicine measured out in a little cup before he pulled away again and hid his face, clinging to Roman’s pajama shirt with a miserable whine.

“Oh, Patton.  Oh, sweetheart.”  Roman hated that Virgil was right; he wanted to keep Patton wrapped up in his protective hold and glare at Virgil for daring to upset him.  “I know, honey, but it will help you feel better, okay? You just drink that, and then you can go back to sleep as long as you want. And I’ll be here, and I can sing to you or tell you stories or whatever you want, and I’ll feel so much better, too, knowing you don’t feel so bad anymore.  Will you take it for me?” He tilted Patton’s chin up just slightly so he could look him in the eyes. “Please?”

Patton whined again- just to make sure everyone knew he really didn’t want to- and slowly, reluctantly turned around.  He took the medicine and downed it as quickly as possible, making a face. Virgil passed him the lukewarm Sprite he’d been sipping at since that morning so he could get the taste out of his mouth, then stood up.

“Thanks for humoring us,” he said to Patton, mouth quirked in a smile.  “I’m gonna go stock up on the other kind, need me to bring anything else in here before I leave?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Roman pointed out.  Patton tried to think for a moment and shook his head.

“See you in like an hour, then.  You better take good care of him while I’m gone.”  He made an “I’m watching you” gesture towards Roman.

He pulled an offended face.  “Of course! I wouldn’t dream of doing anything less for my dearest love, the light of my life, my-”

“Okay, you sap, I get it, you love him,” Virgil interrupted, fearing he’d go on like that forever if nobody made him stop.  He’d once let him keep talking just to see what would happen, and after a few minutes the terms of affection had gotten both bafflingly obscure and unbearably mushy.  “I’m going.” He grabbed his wallet from his room, zipped up his coat and left for the store.

The door closed, and silence settled over the apartment, broken occasionally by Patton shifting to get more comfortable and/or closer to Roman.  The latter wrapped the blankets more completely around the both of them and leaned back against the couch cushions, holding Patton against his chest.  He could do with a nap himself right about now; he could feel his power flagging a bit from fatigue, thus the reason he could be under this many blankets without overheating… and Patton certainly seemed well on his way to unconsciousness.  The room was quiet and dark (save for the glow of the Christmas lights winding all around the room), he was very tired after all that early-morning stress, and his superhero instincts would surely wake him should he be needed for any reason.  With that thought, Roman placed one more soft kiss on Patton’s forehead and allowed his love’s even breathing to lull him to sleep as well.

[cactuslester]

Broken Vases and Literal Wheels of Fire

Summary: A slow domestic morning set in the winter of 2017 where Dan and Phil plan Interactive Introverts while having breakfast in bed.

Word Count: ~1.5K

Genre: fluff, domesticity

Warnings: none

A/N: Hey guys! This is just a little fic written as a prompt fill for @thoughtfullightcollectionii for prompts 98 (“You’re not as innocent as I thought you were”) and 99 (“Just please...no birds”) on this post (so sorry I had to remove the link because the post wasn’t showing up in the tags, I’ll add it back if tumblr fixes their godawful tagging issues) . This is unbetaed, so sorry if there are any mistakes. As always, all feedback, positive or negative, is greatly appreciated!

AO3 (same issue as the link for the prompt post, my AO3 is linked on my blog fic page though)

Dan jolted awake to the sound of glass shattering and a string of expletives being shouted from the kitchen. “Phil?” he called out, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just dropped something.”

By now, Dan knew that the sounds of glass breaking or things falling weren’t really cause for much concern; Phil was clumsy enough that things like this happened nearly every week. But Dan also knew that Phil was clumsy enough to cut himself on the broken glass, so Dan had better get up and help him. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself before leaving the bedroom. The T-shirt and pyjama pants he preferred to sleep in were not enough for him to brave the cold of their London apartment in the winter mornings. He arrived in the kitchen to see Phil also in his pyjamas gingerly stepping around the glass to get to the broom.

“What’d you drop?” Dan asked, looking at the clear glass pieces that now covered most of the kitchen floor.

Phil’s face fell a little, “The vase.”

Dan laughed, “The one you drink out of?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Phil answered with mock melodrama. He found the vase quite funny and it was his third favorite thing to drink out of behind two truly amazing mugs, but he wasn’t deeply sentimental about it per se.

“Good riddance, you’ll finally stop getting comments on your videos telling you it’s a vase. C’mon I’ll help you clean this up and then we can make breakfast. Actually, I was thinking, can we have breakfast in bed today?”

Phil rolled his eyes fondly, “No, we have so much to do today. We have to work more on set design, and then we need to finalize and send out that list of props we want to get.”

“Please? We can talk about it during breakfast and do work in bed.” Dan pouted and looked at Phil with wide eyes, feigning innocence.

In the few seconds that Phil stood there deliberating, Dan pouted more dramatically and made his eyes even sadder until Phil caved, “Okay fine, let’s have breakfast in bed.”

“Yay,” Dan pressed a kiss to Phil’s cheek as he picked up the broom, “Love you.”

Phil just smiled, but Dan knew that was as good as a verbal response.

Dan swept up the pieces of glass while Phil made pancakes and scrambled eggs. As he did, he reminisced on their Manchester days when he would make scrambled eggs for Dan every morning because that was essentially all he knew how to cook back then. Then, Phil had just finished his Master’s degree and Dan was having daily crises over his law degree. It was both a much simpler and much more complicated time. Simpler because they were just making Youtube videos and not planning a world tour while also maintaining three main channels at the same time. Complicated in that their relationship was new and confusing and became even more so when it was suddenly under the scrutiny of thousands of pairs of eyes. Phil was so proud of how far they had come, and knew that he was living a life that he wouldn’t have dared dream of ten years ago.

Phil divided the eggs and pancakes on two plates and poured two glasses of orange juice. He placed this all on a tray and picked it up, walking imperceptibly slowly towards the bedroom.

Dan laughed as he saw Phil walk by, “I bet you could still drop it even being that careful.”

“Don’t bully me, I made us breakfast!” he cried somewhat indignantly. After an agonizing three minutes, he made it to the bedroom and placed the tray on the bedside table without spilling a drop. Ten seconds later, Dan appeared and immediately jumped into bed, the blanket he had brought to the kitchen still wrapped around him. Phil brought the tray to the center of the bed, resting it on their legs as they dug in.

“So,” Dan started, mouth full of pancake, “We have the neon for the set design but do we want anything else?”

“What if—also don’t talk with you mouth full—what if we had fire like on stage during the wheel part? That would be so cool!” Phil was emanating excitement.

“Phil, you just dropped something for the third time this week and you want fire on stage? You know you’re going to stand in it accidentally.”

“Okay fine, what about fire behind the wheel or somewhere that’s visible but neither of us will accidentally touch?”

“Hm, okay fine, send the email to George then.”

Phil penned an email to their stage director in between sips of orange juice asking if they could have fire on stage. “What if we had birds?” he mused quitely and half to himself as he sent the email.

“What?”

“Like birds, on stage,” Phil explained rather poorly.

“Phil, what do you mean ‘birds on stage,’ like live birds? On stage? Where would that even fit in the show?”

“I dunno, but wouldn’t it be cool?”

“Phil,” Dan started slightly exasperated but also rather amused, “We already decided not to bring live dogs, birds are arguably harder to deal with.”

“Yeah but—”

Dan cut him off, “Just please...no birds. Imagine if we had birds and fire, that would be a disaster.”

Phil knew he couldn’t argue with that logic, “Ugh fine, no birds.”

“Okay good, that’s that settled. Now for the props list, we need to finalize that.”

“Already on it,” Phil pulled up the document that was a neatly organized list of props. Under each prop were notes on whether it had been approved for use yet or not, how much it cost, and if they had acquired it yet. Phil may leave socks around the whole flat and spend hours looking for something he had lost, but he had a mind for organization when it came to directing and projects. It was something Dan had always admired about him, they way Phil knew exactly where each file regarding the stage show was, how he responded to every business email almost immediately and with a perfect balance of friendliness and professionalism, and how people in the industry always loved working with him no matter how difficult or complicated the project was. “The only thing left we haven’t told Robyn about yet are the tear-away shirts.”

“I still can’t believe that bit was your idea. I mean, I can,” Dan clarified,  “I’ve known for a long time that you’re not as innocent as I used to think you were, but I know at least some of the audience will be shook when they learn it was your idea in the directors’ commentary.”

“Hey, maybe it’ll be a good way to ease them into a rebrand.” Phil replied as he typed out the email to Robyn, their props mistress, and Dan texted Martyn about tour merch.

“Have you decided if you’re gonna do that after the tour?”

“I’m not like 100% sure yet, but I think it’s almost time for one, don’t you?”

“Yeah I guess, although you have dropped a lot of the innocent persona on the gaming channel this year, so it’s like you’ve already started easing them into a rebrand. Maybe it’s already started, it’s just not as dramatic as mine.”

“Mm, that’s probably true.” Phil finished the email and sent it, then closed his laptop and tossed it to the end of the bed. He got out of bed and picked up the tray, this time walking a bit less slowly to the kitchen before placing the plates and glasses in the sink. He grabbed the plant mister from the kitchen counter and made his way to the lounge where he began to water his half dead succulents and cacti.

He was interrupted by Dan calling from the bedroom, “Philllll,” Dan whined, “Come back to bed.”

“In a minute.” he called back, smiling to himself at how Dan was just as sappy and clingy now as he was years ago. Phil walked back to the bedroom and was greeted by Dan who had also thrown his laptop to the end of the bed and stretched his arms out when he saw Phil.

“Dan, we have work to do.”

“I know, but we can have a ten minute break and you should come cuddle with me.” he said matter-of-factly.

“Fine,” Phil crawled into bed and into Dan’s arms where Dan’s space heater-like body warmed him up immediately, “Ten minutes.”

“Love you,” Dan said softly as he closed his eyes and reveled in how much he cared for Phil and how heart-burstingly happy he was to be able to spend every day with him.

“Love you too.”