#i am forcibly trying to break myself out of this weird. only write wips and never finish them.

[lvllns]

my everything is you

the wayhaven chronicles. mason x sparrow kingston (nb detective). 800+ words of soft mason, enjoy.

ao3 link

Flopping back onto the couch in the library at the warehouse, Sparrow sighs and closes their eyes for a moment.

They’d been gone for a week with Tina and Verda, a conference in the city that they couldn’t weasel their way out of. It had been hectic. A whirlwind of trying to keep their focus evenly split between seemingly a hundred different things. The only form of respite had been Mason’s texts and the late night phone calls.

Sparrow wiggles their body. Moves around until their legs are stretched out in front of them, back propped up against the arm of the sofa. The book in their hand is something they’ve read before but they’re not looking for a distraction. All they need is to pass the time, however much of it is left, until Mason is back from his own patrol with Ava.

Simple enough, to crack open the nearly ancient edition of The Prince in their hand and fall into it.

So simple, in fact, that they miss the heavy footsteps coming down the hall. They miss the way they slow to a halt right outside the library door. How Mason waits for a minute before he steps inside. They don’t notice he’s in the room until he’s close enough that they smell him, sandalwood and leather and cigarette smoke.

The book falls to their chest, and they watch as he carefully peels his jacket off. Tosses it on the back of a nearby chair. And then he nudges one of their legs out of the way. Settles a broad palm on their thigh and dramatically falls down right between their legs.

“Hello to you too, amore mio,” Sparrow says softly. “How was your patrol?”

Mason doesn’t speak. He presses his nose to their belly, the fabric of their shirt bunching up under his face. His left arm winds around, slips under their lower back until his fingers are curling around their opposite hip. Sparrow moves their leg. Pushes it underneath his right arm so their heel rests along his spine. Mason slides his right hand under their shirt. Splays it against their ribs. Drags his thumb over the bones and muscle, over the freckles he can’t see.

“That bad, huh?” They try again as they carefully set the book on the nearby table. Their hand drops to his scalp and they push their fingers into his hair. He grumbles. Squeezes the hand on their hip. “Was Felix terrible company while I was gone?”

He tenses between their thighs. Grunts and moves so his chin is resting along the waistband of their jeans. “He’s so loud, songbird.”

Sparrow snorts. Scratches at his scalp as they run their fingers through his hair. Mason pushes up into the touch with a soft sigh, grey eyes fluttering shut. “Tina is the same,” they murmur. He drops his cheek to their stomach. They press their thumb into the back of his neck. Mason shivers. Scoots closer, as close as he can, while he tightens his hold on them. “I missed this.” He hums, something low and rough that they can feel against their thighs as it rumbles through his chest. “Did you sleep at all while I was gone?”

A shrug. It jostles them a little bit, so wound together with him, and they chuckle. Tension bleeds from him, his shoulders drooping as he melts against them. Sparrow draws circles behind his ear before dragging their blunt nails along his scalp again.

“Going to guess that’s a no.”

“Bird,” he says, voice rough and thick. Mason pulls back to look at them, eyes half-lidded. “Missed you.” He blinks. Watches their face go soft and then he ducks his head. Noses their shirt out of the way enough to press a kiss to their hip. Chaste, affectionate. And then he’s moving up their body, draping himself over them and sliding his arms around so his hands are between their shoulder blades. Mason rests his head on their chest with a soft sigh. “You’re comfortable.”

Sparrow laughs, their hand dragging along his shoulders. “And you’re heavy.”

“Don’t be fucking rude.”

“Don’t call me a fucking pillow, you bastard.”

His body shakes as he laughs, face rolling so he can look up at them, and the smile that breaks across his face is brighter than any sunrise. “Fuck you too, sweetheart.”

They pinch his ear, grinning, before sweeping their touch up and down his spine. “Get some sleep,” Sparrow whispers, fingers moving back to play with his hair.

They start to move, to reach for their book, but he grumbles and frees a hand to pluck it off the table for them. A kiss to the top of his head, and then another. One that lingers, one that’s full of promises. Mason presses his lips to the middle of their chest, right over their heart, before closing his eyes and settling down with a long, soft exhale.

He’s asleep before they finish opening the book.