November hit fast and cold, coating the streets in a frosty wetness that was nothing but a warning sigh for the approaching winter. If you asked Ken and his colorful language, he'd say that fall had turned the world outside into a glaciar inferno and that the air was so sharp it made it hard to breathe. Devon, meanwhile, coming back from walking the dog in the morning had declared a solid “It's cold as fucking balls” and had slithered back into bed.
That's why they had been lurking inside all day, watching TV with the lights down and in varying states of nudity under a thick layer of blankets. It was getting indecent, really, considering it was already noon, but it was one of their favourite things to do when the weather was hellish and they were feeling lazy.
After the third documentary on house cats, Devon sat up and made sure Ken was well covered and warm before leaving for Argos' second walk of the day. The dog didn't seem to mind the fact that they'd apparently teleported from mild New Jersey to the North of Greenland. He didn't seem to mind, either, that his owner very much had noticed that teleportation, and that he met every step he took with a curse directed at the sky.
Needless to say it was a short walk. Relatively short, at least, because Argos still needed to burn his energy and he still needed to chase every poor bird and squirrel in the park and he absolutely needed to jump straight into the fountain to chase the ducks, despite every old lady in the park's disapproving looks (which they shot at Devon, of course. Incredible. Like he had anything to do with that. You try raising a wolf like that and tell me how it goes, he'd glare back).
Walking back into the warmth of their apartment was one of the best feelings ever. Despute the dim lights, the warm atmosphere seemed to melt the cold away from him, and as he stripped from his wet jacket and his boots he fell back into the cozy mood.
Ken was awake and staring at him from the couch, eyes half-closed and bright. He gave him a lazy grin an stretched his arms out, and wrinkled his nose when his best friend turned on the reading lamp on the coffee table.
“C'mere” he murmured. He was nuzzling the cushion and scooting a bit to the side, making room for Dev. “You took too long.”
It didn't take much convincing to lure Dev into the embrace. He settled between Ken and the back of the couch and carefully wrapped his arms around his body (one over his torso, the other under his neck), giving his forehead the lightest kiss. “You know how Argos gets.”
“Did he eat any ducks?” he said, his lips so close to Dev's skin it made him shudder.
“Nah.” Devon's hand found its way under Ken's t-shirt and he placed it warm and heavy on his ribs.
“Any old ladies?” Little by little, they snuggled their way around each other, every piece fitting perfectly with the other. Every movement natural and relaxed.
“Unfortunately not.”
Ken had lost interest in the conversation already, more preoccupied with the way his breath on Devon's skin was making him squeeze closer against him. Devon couldn't see, but he could feel the smirk on his lips. Instead of protesting, though, he coaxed Ken into rolling on top of him so he could slide both his hands under his top in a cozy embrace.
“You know, we said we'd go out for dinner tonight.”
Ken groaned and closed his eyes as if to pretend he was asleep for a second, his face a wrinkle buried in Devon's collarbone. Dev was smiling, though. His eyes were closed, his lips brushing softly against the spot behind Ken's ear, and he thought that, if he could, he'd spend the resf or his days like that.
“Restaurants will close” he whispered trying to nudge Ken to make him look at him.
“McDonald's never failed us.”
“Not a chance in hell. Come on, we're doing this the right way.”
That said, and pushing Ken off him carefully, he managed to stand up and pull his best friend to his feet. They stared at each other and giggled, and then, with Devon's arm easily sliding over Ken's shoulders, they walked into their room to get ready for their big night.
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It always surprises Devon how much better his cloths look on Ken. It’s not that they fit him better, or that Ken’s astounding looks make a big differente. But there’s a way about how they are slightly oversized, how the fabric clings to his shoulders and his hips, how he still manages to mess the collar of the shirts and the ease with which he leaves the first buttons undone as if he had no use to them. Just little things that keep Dev’s eyes glued to him.
And he realizes it’s probably because he’s there, and those are his clothes, and that’s his soulmate wearing them. Because Ken can go up to his wardrobe after a lazy shower and pick a shirt and a pair of jeans and that’s completely normal, and the fact that it’s normal is surprising alone.
Their eyes meet and he smiles before he walks the step that’s separating them, hooks his finger on the loop of his jeans and kisses his lips, bringing his hands up to fix his collar. Because it’s Ken, and because this is normal now.
“You look like a nerd.”
♕: Holding hands
He’s sure his hand fits into Ken’s so perfectly because he was meant to hold him like this. It was a genetic thing, something that was simply meant to be. His thumb strokes over Ken’s knuckles and he watches as the muscles relax under his touch with a fascination that’s almost clinical. And then there’s a shift in Ken’s body and he feels a little squeeze on his fingers that makes him look up.
“You’re spacing out, gonna miss the whole movie” he says, and Dev nods and squeezes his hand back, resting his head on Ken’s shoulder instead.
Ken squeezes back and Devon smiles wide, bringing their linked hands up to kiss Ken’s knuckles, and that seems to settle it.
♢: Forehead or cheek kisses
It’s early morning and they’re in bed. Ken’s in his arms, the first beams or light coming through the window light his skin up turning it to gold and he’s slowly petting up his back, drawing small circles with his fingertips under the covers.
He should wake him up already or they’re gonna be late, but he likes having him like this so much he feels like being selfish. The day stretches outside the room but inside it froze last night with their last kiss.
When it gets to the point where he can’t stay in bed any longer, he snakes ken abit and presses his lips to his forehead, then to his nose and his cheek, which only earns him a groan and some wiggling under the covers.
“Come on, we’re gonna be late-”
But it takes Ken a couple more kisses to open his eyes and almost shove Devon off the bed with a grunt.
