#resi gave me feedback on this one :D

[angelatos]

put your emptiness to melody, your awful heart to song

yes this is a songfic

can be found at https://archiveofourown.org/works/28168935

Aguero shuts the door softly behind him, exhaling as the stress from that day’s work melted away, almost as if the threshold to his home served as a protective barrier, the sheer amount of love contained within the walls making any negativity slough off like a second skin. As he paused to toe his shoes off, he noticed three things: one, Bam was home early; two, the delightful smell of ripe bananas, vanilla and cinnamon came wafting from the kitchen; and three, there was an even more wonderful sound coming from that direction as well. Curious, Aguero goes to investigate and stops in his tracks as soon as the kitchen comes into view.

“Honey, the look of it was as sweet as the sound

Your head tilt back, your funny mouth to the clouds”

The golden evening light streaming in from the window shone softly on Bam, painting his husband as the paradigm of domesticity, the warm yellow walls and checkered sunflower patterned curtains only adding to the effect. Music came cascading down from the radio on top of the fridge, Bam singing along to some folksy song Aguero would look up the name of as soon as he had a spare moment.

“I couldn't name that feeling carried in that voice

Was it that or just the act of making noise that brought you joy?”

Aguero leans against the doorway, small smile playing across his face as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. It occurred to him to say something, to announce his presence, but the thought was quickly dashed from his mind. He couldn’t, not when Bam was so peaceful, finding a moment of serenity amidst the stress and demands of his hellish job. However, you wouldn’t know any of that just from looking at the man in this moment, gently swaying to the music as he scoops something powdery into a large bowl and carefully stirs, folding it into the yellowish batter.

“You don't have to sing it right

But who could call you wrong?

To put your emptiness to melody

Your awful heart to song

You don't have to sing it nice, but, honey, sing it strong

At best, you find a little remedy, at worst the world will sing along”

Eventually Aguero pushes off from the doorframe, quietly coming up behind Bam to snake his arms around the brunette’s waist from behind.

Bam yelps, twisting around to see his ‘assailant.’ “Khun-ssi! When did you get home?”

“Mm, just now,” Aguero replies, pressing a quick kiss to Bam’s jaw. “What are you making?”

Bam hums, leaning into his husband’s touch. “Banana bread. Rak didn’t finish the bunch when he last visited and we had some left over, so I figured I’d use them up.”

“Ahh, I see. Damn crocodile has the balls to sleep on our couch, the least he could do is finish what he started,” he grumbles goodnaturedly, hand darting forward to swipe some batter onto a finger, which promptly gets batted away with Bam’s rubber spatula.

“You can’t try any of that yet, there’s egg in there,” Bam laughs, shoving Aguero off of him. “Wait until it’s baked. I just have to put it in the oven first, okay?”

Aguero begrudgingly waits as Bam pours the batter into a greased tin, though he can’t really complain too much, as now he has an opportunity to openly admire Bam. The way the light adds yet more lustre to his hair, makes his eyes look molten, turns his normally too-pale skin into something you’d find in a renaissance painting- well, Aguero’s no art appraiser, but he recognizes beauty when he sees it.

“Remember when you'd sing before we'd move to it?

And we'd scuff up our shoes, honey, the groove of it

Was whatever you choose”

As soon as the bread went in the oven and the oven door closed, Aguero was pulling Bam into an embrace, spinning his husband- apron aflutter and all- into his arms despite his laughed protests that he "needs to take the oven mitts off, give me a second Khun-ssi, then we can dance."

Aguero, ever the gentleman, removed the offenders from Bam’s hands and tossed them in the vague direction of a counter before pulling him into an embrace, swaying to the music and Bam’s voice, occasionally breaking the flow with a dip, his husband clinging to him and shrieking in laughter every time.

“Remember when you'd sing, just for the love of it?

And any joy it would bring”

For a moment, for one blissful moment, nothing else mattered, save for the lovers dancing in a room full of warmth and golden light and love.