Morning Troubles

As an apology for the lack of a forth chapter in Invetability and Bonds (I have an extremely vague idea about it, which might not work out at all. If you have any ideas feel free to tell me about them), I decided to post this shitty oneshot, which honestly wasn't supposed to turn into smut but it somehow did and I'm sorry. For those of you in tumblr, you might've read this already. My tumblr is blackamaranth21.
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The cheerful chirping of birds can be heard as the sun rose up above the city, casting warm streams of light through the windows, bathing the world in its glory as it does every other morning. Slow, gentle breezes of air can be felt should one step outside in the streets that are deserted still.

At this primal hour of the day, most people would still be sleeping, except for those who were unfortunate enough to have work that required them to wake up at such an hour. Of course, should they be an early bird, they would enjoy this part of the day indeed, even if they were not forced to wake up at the time. The weather was nice, warm with slight breezes to cool it, the sky was clear with no hint of dark clouds that might signal a raining episode. A very fine morning indeed, perfect for a little breakfast outside in an outdoor restaurant, followed by a walk in the park to bask in the beauty of nature as one makes their way to their destination, be it work or a trip or a friend's place.

As a person who has made a point of being an early riser since childhood, Sting Eucliffe would've been doing just that. Would've gotten up, shook his often grumpy in the morning partner and housemate awake along with their exceeds, and then dragged them along to their favourite little coffee shop down the street for a quick breakfast, and then headed in their merry way to their guild, were the blond-haired young man wouldn't be too merry as he is forced to sit down at his desk in the office and finish the cringe-worthy amount of paperwork that had drastically increased since the incident with the hellish guild that was called Tartarus, for the better part of the day.

As it was, however, he was laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, face set in a blank expression as he tries to wonder why this had to happen.

Because seriously, what the fuck is this?

He and Rogue had been together for quite sometime now. Nearly eight years, in fact, and that's long enough of a time to get close and comfortable with someone, even if they were as quiet, withdrawn and introverted as Rogue. Granted, the blond had kind of stalked him around for a while after the first time they met, fascinated by the presence of someone like him, unsubtly hanging around the other dragon slayer until he finally payed attention to him. At this point, he's already pushed past most of Rogue's boundaries, has broken down the walls that kept away everyone else, and the knowledge on how to ease away new ones should his dark-haired partner decide to put them up has become more of an instinct than anything else. That said, it wasn't really awkward for them to share a bed. Had been, those first few times they did it where Rogue would shy away from him, uncomfortable at foreign contact as he always was, and Sting would press in closer, determined to chase away the shadows, to watch and make sure that when those pretty crimson eyes closed, they would not be opened again in terror during the night, that Rogue's face would be calm and peaceful as he drifted away to dreamland, and not twisted in frustration and anxiety.

Since then it had become easier for the raven-haired Mage to sleep in peace. Sting liked to think it was because of him, that the slow fade of those dark rings marring the skin underneath his precious eyes were the result of his comfort, of those nights he spent by the other's side with his arm wrapped around his partner's figure as he put him back to sleep. The times that the two would lay in a single mattress had become rare, and Sting would be lying if he said that didn't disappoint him. That sometimes he didn't wake up and find himself clutching the bedsheets tight against himself, burying his face in them, trying to find the non-existent scent of the shadow dragon slayer.