Fíli closed his eyes and breathed deep, savoring the comforting scent of linseed oil and cedar that filled his nose. 

Fat, heavy raindrops pelted the window above the bed in a soothing tattoo against the glass. The world outside was dark grey and miserable and everything required to put a few hours’ pause in their labored schedule. Apparently even Mother Nature wasn’t above throwing a tantrum to get them to take a break every so often; something neither of them were any good at recognizing they needed when they were in the thick of their workloads.

Moments like those, soft and mellow and cozy—those moments were rare during the rush-months; impossible. Moments when Fíli had his brother, pliant and sleep-warm, draped over him like a heavy blanket on their bed. 

Fíli inhaled a second time, let Kíli expand in his lungs and fill him with the smell of home. Kíli murmured as he napped, the unintelligible cadence of dreams, and nuzzled his face further into the crook below Fíli’s chin. 

They both worked hard - tradesmen, masters of their crafts - but Kíli had been pushing himself harder, longer that year than any year previous. Fíli lifted Kíli hand from where it rested on Fíli’s chest, careful and slow so as not to disturb him. Examining it, Fíli brushed a thumb over the smattering of slivers and torn skin where splinters of wood had likely embedded themselves before being hastily removed.

Kíli hated wearing gloves. Claimed they hindered his dexterity. He was meticulous and intricate and, goddamn, he needed glasses before he squinted himself blind. 

Placing Kíli’s hand back to where it had been, Fíli craned his neck as much as he could to look down at Kíli’s lax face. Between his eyes were permanent lines; fine, hardly noticeable if one didn’t pay attention. Fíli always did. He smoothed his thumb between Kíli’s brows as if to smooth away years of intense concentration, snorting a puff of air in amusement when Kíli’s brows just pinched further in reaction to the touch.

He squeezed Kíli tighter, pressed Kíli as close as he could get him without cutting himself open and swallowing Kíli whole. His thoughts were becoming less of a Rolodex blur of this needs doing and this and this and this this this—  

Slow now. Relax.  

Fíli buried his nose in Kíli’s hair and breathed again.

Exhaling through the ‘o’ of his lips, Fíli forced himself to focus on his brother who had shifted when Fíli tensed and was relaxing again as Fíli brought himself back to the present. The callouses on Fíli’s hands scritched and pulled the fabric of Kíli’s shirt lightly as he stroked up and down Kíli’s back in an effort to keep him content and asleep.

They still had projects to finish, orders to fill, deliveries to make but Fíli had to acknowledge that there was no use fretting about it. So, he indulged himself, reacquainted himself with Kíli’s dips and angles; luxuriated under the weight of Kíli in his arms. 

He could spend eternity tracing the hollows between Kíli’s bones and feel them fit seamlessly into the rises of Fíli’s own.

Fíli closed his eyes and trailed his hands down Kíli’s arms, shoulders, back, over Kíli’s thigh where it was flung across Fíli’s leg. Fíli massaged the muscles and sighed contentedly when Kíli tried to burrow himself closer. 

Their hearts beat in tandem, their breaths synced. Kíli’s nose twitched, he made a low noise then settled once more. Fíli couldn’t imagine another way he’d rather spend a stormy Tuesday afternoon. 

Pressing a kiss into the mop of Kíli’s hair, Fíli took one last deep inhale - linseed oil and cedar - before sinking into his pillow and letting himself drift.  

๑癶ᴗ癶๑