"The fourth time it happened, John had awoken comfortably tucked under Freddie's arm, his messy hair taking up most of his already blurry vision. It took him quite a bit of time to fully gain consciousness, but when he finally realized where he was, it took a lot of his willpower not to jump. He couldn't quite remember how he got here, and why their legs were a tangled mess beneath them. He recounted the events of the night before.
John had woken up at an ungodly hour, went to the kitchen to make some tea, and was greeted by Freddie. They had watched TV together after that. That was right. John remembered because they had spent minutes flipping through the stations and finally settled on a soap opera in a language that neither of them spoke. Freddie made it a point to try to discern what was happening in the show, and John would occasionally give his two cents on what he thought the plot was. Freddie was quite invested in the show, while John was quite invested in him.
John remembered, at some point, Freddie had insisted, “You know I don't bite, dear,” as John was rather far from him on the other side of the bed. He, albeit a bit reluctantly, had scooted over just a little closer to Freddie, who scoffed and pulled him over by the waist. One thing lead to another and they were cuddling, with Freddie's hand brushing through John's long hair. John must have been the first to fall asleep."
- good old-fashioned lover boy by deacontent on ao3
deacury owns my entire heart
