But most of it was beautiful
Summary: Spending their honeymoon at home means realizing how much of said home is familiar and how much has changed. It’s become a place for family, a place to fall apart and grow together. This is how they navigate grief in a bubble of joy. A/N: Thank you @herefortarlos and @lightningboltreader for beta-reading.
Warning: Canonical character death and mentions of drug addiction
The sun filters in through window panes and onto the blanket trapping heat where their feet are intertwined. They haven’t closed the blinds. Growing up with a tapestry of noise of New York, they compromised on sleeping with the windows closed, but today, like all days when Carlos grew up on the outskirts, morning birds wake them. It’s a bit of a change in a cocoon of familiarity. Carlos hums in his throat as TK sleepily kisses his neck and angles his body on top of his until their erections slide together. It’s not urgent. Nothing like last night, suits hastily discarded, fingers gripping like the other was a lifeboat, husband the only clear word between loud moans and pleading. This morning, they just let the minutes tick by as the sun travels through the room. Their eyes are closed and they cuddle, until one of their hips bucks up and they grind for nothing but to feel good, no goal in sight. The birds, the sun, their indulgent bodies. And sirens mixed into it. TK ignores the noise but he can feel Carlos stiffen. He kisses the side of his face until he relaxes again. This is their honeymoon. They won’t let the outside world disturb it.
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