Tiny Acts of Domestic Rebellion || (Cullistair, Alistair x Cullen, SFW, Fluff, 545 Words)
Amazing accompanying art by the hilarious @replicajester found here
Alistair was never one to just jump out of bed, not as quick as Cullen was, but when the snooze alarm went off for the second time, Alistair’s shoulder received a sleepy shove by his blonde curled boyfriend.
“Alistair…” the raspy baritone chided, eyes still shut tight, “either turn it off completely or get up.”
Amber eyes fluttered open and he rolled to shut off the obscene machine. “Well, someone’s grumpy.” Alistair quipped, his voice chipper despite his drowsy state of mind.
“Someone worked a twenty hour shift and a double the day before that.” Cullen said huskily, pulling Alistair’s pillow into a tight embrace.
“My poor, brave, overworked EMT.” Alistair cooed as he slid close to Cullen, rubbing his grown stubble across the blonde’s bicep. “I could make it up to you, you know, wake you up the best way as it were.”
“You could make it up by letting me sleep.” He replied, drawing the other’s pillow till it covered his face. Alistair chuckled and yawned, leaving his boyfriend’s side to start his day.
He scratched at himself, readjusting his morning erection as he slowly shuffled into the kitchen and part of him wondered how he didn’t manage to slip his sweatpants off during the night. He could strip himself from fully clothed to bare as the day he was born without waking once (which made for some rather unusual morning conversations on more than one occasion). He assumed he was still partially clothed because he was too entwined with Cullen, the blankets, or both. Maybe Charlie came in and plopped down on him during the night?
Where was that overgrown puppy anyway?
Alistair scratched at his stubble, not use to letting his facial hair grow so long, but it was winter and colder and Cullen seemed to like it so why not keep it, right? At least till spring reared it’s flowery head. He opened the door to the fridge, rooting around in it till his hand found the milk carton. Alistair didn’t even get it to his lips before he heard Cullen call from the bedroom.
“Get a glass! You weren’t raised in a barn.” The gruff bark from the bedroom had the actual Mabari trotting into take up the rest of the bed.
“I am!” Alistair replied with a smirk, though he had no intention of actually getting a glass. “Though if this were a barn, Cullen, I could just drink milk straight from the cow!” He added with several loud sucking smacks of his full lips. A disgusted scoff echoed out to him, which only widened Alistair’s smirk to a cheeky grin.
Alistair drank the milk from the carton of course with warm amber eyes closed and enjoying the private, tiny act of domestic rebellion with bratty glee. It was like eating a couple extra thick slices of his favorite cheddar after he had quite a bit already (or Cullen’s sweet tooth and his need to eat spoonfuls of that wonderful chocolate hazelnut spread straight from the jar that he knew about but Cullen didn’t know he knew...at least the eating the spread with a spoon straight from the jar part), it was a piece of his past bachelorhood he hadn’t any rush to break from.
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