An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Billy slept hard. By the time he managed to crack his eyes open, music played quietly from downstairs, and breakfast smells were in the air, not dinner. It took Billy several minutes to piece together that they were not at school, and to come to terms with that. Staying in bed had a hell of an incentive...
Mainly due to Steve standing halfway out of his window. Billy stared, puffy-eyed, at the loon’s boxer briefs until he mumbled, “Steve?”
He ducked back into his room with white freckles in his hair. “It’s snowing!”
“Weknowwhatsnowis,” Billy scolded, tucking deep under the covers that he didn’t remember being under in the first place. A curt sound burst out of him when Steve landed astride him, shaking the snow from his hair and then kissing each cold spot on Billy’s hair and forehead.