#composedsun

      when intermission comes around, nicholas decides to stretch his legs. he rises from his seat & heads for the lobby, but he’s immediately overwhelmed by the outpouring of people bustling around to do the same. luckily, he’s managed to find a relatively low-traffic pocket of space near the wall, so he decides to stand there until he can find his way back to his seat.

body stretches, limbs moving into early morning sun before retracting once more. hands gently bring around around his waist, tightening gradually as composer makes himself comfortable. snow had been falling since some time yesterday morning; a thick white blanket now dusts the rarely quiet streets of new york. tom is hardly worried.

“are we?” blue eyes slowly open, blinking away sleep before turning to his boyfriend. he was gorgeous– though tiredness pained his features, he was nothing shy of perfect. neck stretches and lips meet. kiss is slow and lazy; tom’s in no need to rush, lips mingling and intertwining slowly.

“did you have plans to go anywhere today?” composer laughs, a knee slotting between andrei’s to bring himself closer. “i thought we could just… stay in today.”

andrei has been awake for a half hour or so already ---- watching the snow outside, glancing occasionally at his boyfriend to see if he’s still asleep. his own sleeplessness has only highlighted a more usual exhaustion, and it’s so common that he hardly thinks of it at the moment. slow mornings like these do not tire him the way forcing himself out of bed often does, and he can let himself relax into the moment. for once, work isn’t quite on his mind.

more pressing are the lips against his own, the feeling of warmth beneath his fingers as a hand rest on tom’s hip. it’s colder in the bedroom than he should like, on account of the chill outside he’s sure, and he knows precisely the way in which he should like to remedy the problem. 

      it was a day as ordinary as any other --- or at least, that’s what jim thought when he first woke up that morning. he was on his way down to the precinct now with his partner. they were stopping by a new coffee place on the edge of broadway when it happened.

       a mugging in broad daylight. new york was fucking nuts. luckily, between the two of them, they were able to stop the guy & cuff him in under a minute. this wasn’t particularly surprising, just unexpected. as his partner ushered the man into the backseat of their cruiser, jim turned toward the man who’d been targeted.

tom was no stranger to restlessness, especially in the middle of a project. thoughts of deadlines and busy scheduling plagues tom mind into the early hours of the morning; he lay staring at the ceiling like he does most restless nights, hands folded over his abdomen as he tries to will worried thoughts away.

gaze turns to the man beside him, quietly resting. how odd, tom thought, that he was the one awake and andrei was asleep. he hardly was complaining – he knew andrei needed the rest far more than he did. nevertheless composer finds himself inching over, carefully burrowing himself against andrei’s chest. tucked against his lovers chest, tom felt safe, secure. mind slowly clears, finally, and a sense of relief washes over tom.

lips gently press to stubbled jaw, trailing up to his ear and then across his cheek. laughter rumbles in tom’s chest as the other stirs, a smile crossing his expression. “i didn’t mean to wake you,” comes hushed whisper, lips still pressing to his skin. “you can go back to sleep.”

andrei has always been easily awoken from often shallow sleep ---- but rarely is the experience so pleasant. warmth pulses through a troubling dream as he finds himself wrapping his arms around tom, eyes pressed closed ---- as though he means to deny the very possibility that it might be time to get up, no matter the early hour.

neck stretches at these kisses, and a low hum vibrates in his throat, pleasant and quiet. maybe he ought to be stressed ---- maybe he ought to be caught up in the knowledge that he won’t be able to get back to sleep. and yet this cannot concern him in the moment, and instead, he only draws himself closer to tom, fingertips tracing circles on his back.