A small, soft ficlet written as a gift for AuthorOfDragons, the creator of Skull & Pyro — a delightful webcomic which I wholeheartedly recommend, especially if you enjoy fantasy/comedy/adventure and/or asexual representation. Honestly, if you followed me because you like Good Omens’s soft, bantery walnuts, I think you’ll LOVE the comic.
Inspired by this beautiful stargazing drawing.
“Bonehill!” Zerako hissed in his husband’s ear — breath mildly overwarm on Bonehill’s skin, albeit not quite hot enough to be a problem given the insulated ice-powered blanket wrapped around his lower body, effectively balancing the temperature out — and nudged him. “Bonehill, look!”
“Mmph?” Thoughts pulled back from where they had been sleepily wandering with the swaying of their recently claimed, currently stationary airship, Bonehill refocused on their surroundings. Dim-lit bedroom, mostly bare but for a few pieces of furniture and other objects scattered around the room. Lamps; nightstand; airship manual, which they had located only after drastically breaking a significant number of its rules; and a handful of miscellaneous other items — articles of clothing, last night’s dinner dishes — strewn about. Firm, prudently nailed-down mattress, bedsprings moving just a little with the rocking of the ship itself.
And, by far the most important feature of the present environment: Husband, cuddled comfortably close in the shared bed, one arm curling around Bonehill’s shoulders and holding him near even as Bonehill returned the gesture with his own free arm.
Said husband was, at the moment, evidently attempting to draw Bonehill’s attention to… something or other. Bonehill contemplated whether or not it was worth putting in the effort required to move his head again in order to locate the something in question. It was clear enough from Zerako’s tone and relaxed body language that there was nothing dangerous, nor necessarily anything urgent, at hand.
On the other hand, it was equally clear that, whatever it was, Zerako was excited and wanted to share it with Bonehill. Which was, as a rule, a good way to motivate Bonehill to want to make them both happy by sharing in it as well.
All right, then. His fate was sealed: Bonehill would, in fact, have to move his head. He did so, reluctantly enough, and also rolled slightly to open up his line of vision. “What exactly are we supposed to be looking at?”
Rather than responding to the question with words, Zerako simply tilted his own head, one long ear and two wide eyes angling together towards the rounded convex window protruding from the wall just above their bed.
Bonehill followed Zerako’s gaze, to the window and then out of it — out into the deep, star-sprinkled blue-black of the night.
