Destiel & Johnlock Oneshots

One love, One house (johnlock)

got a prompt about masculine john and petite cuddly sherlock and this happened.
this is so cheesy i can't even.

As usual, John awakes first.

The day is one of those beautiful rare Sundays where there are no duties or cases or appointments to drag him out of his bed. (It's a blessing, John thinks, that these peaceful moments exist, with their domestic bliss and sleepy Sherlock curled up in his arms, cuddling into his embrace eagerly, dark lashes fluttering dreamily and cheeks slightly flushed, full lips softly parted and inviting him just to dive in.)

The room is not yet bright, thanks to the thick, mahogany curtains, soft darkness engulfing their tangled bodies, gently embracing them with its warm softness. There's just enough light to allow John to see the sheets beside him rise and fall with the even breaths of his lover, making the corners of his mouth turn upwards just a bit, adoration shining in his eyes and casting his features.

Said lover is still fast asleep and without work to force him out of their bed, John knows he won't be up for quite a while. In the early-morning quietness of the room, peacefulness and content reeking through the shadows, John lies on his side and lovingly gazes the other man, gently running his hand through Sherlock's dark hair, twisting and tangling the messy curls around his fingers, strands then falling softly on the detective's forehead and dramatically contrasting with his milky white skin.

Sherlock actually snores, even if he denies it scandalized whenever John mentions it - not loudly, like some of the soldiers he's shared a room with before who roar like lions in their sleep, but softly, quietly, just barely there with its subtle huffs of breath, the whole thing strangely adorable to John somehow, even if it's just snoring and it's just Sherlock.

John smiles, miles of love swimming in his eyes and making the look of pure adoration on his face even more obvious. He leans over his detective and kisses these soft lips, closing his eyes, quietly savoring the moment, burying it deep in his heart and saving it for bad days when he needs something to remind him just how beautiful life can be.

And then, just because the otherwise rarely quiet and relaxed Sherlock in his bed is a pure blessing as it is, John decides against moving to even prepare breakfast or shower, afraid he will break the blissful spell of this quiet early morning.

He shifts closer to the detective, the cold sheets leaving feather light touches over his goose bumps covered skin and stops for a moment to admire his lovers' sleeping form once again, arms reaching and gently enveloping Sherlock's tiny frame, pulling him closer until his lips are grazing the nape of his neck.

He hears Sherlock's content sigh and hugs him just a little bit tighter, their legs tangled and bodies pressed up against each other, making John's morning even more perfect as sunlight slowly begins creeping in from the curtains, bathing their bed with brightness, love and endless happiness.

criticize me.