What about 'soft and sweet' for the random kiss prompts? 🥰🤗
warm, soft and sweet, a little clumsy, soft giggles, melting, sugary, love
A soft little drabble set in the Such Stuff verse to celebrate the end of the main story 🥰✨
The colorful Christmas lights hung outside the pub paint the sidewalk in soft, flickering hues. It didn't snow yet this year but there's the heavy smell of it in the air, the night sky verging on that weird shade of grey that usually welcomes a storm of white flakes. John knows that sky very well, it used to be like that every winter in Manitowoc when he was a kid; it'll start snowing before Buck's birthday ends, he knows it.
Standing on the sidewalk, he's enjoying the one and only cigarette he's allowed himself to have throughout the whole holidays while Buck is inside with all their friends, celebrating his 29th birthday with a karaoke night and many, many rounds of drinks. John'll have to get back inside soon, Marge's waiting for him to perform one of their duets and he's already missing Buck despite having spent every single minute of the past four days together. So he flicks the cigarette to the ground, the cherry-red tip glowing for a moment on the dark pavement before he puts it off with his foot, and then steps back into the pub.
The music is loud and the air heavy and hot, a blessing on his cold-bitten cheeks. He starts to shrug his sheepskin off as he walks to their table, somehow always the loudest and rowdiest in the place, but when Buck catches sight of him he stands abruptly and cuts through the crowd to get to him. It worries John a little — did any of the guys say something bad to him? Did his parents tried to contact him since it's his birthday? Is he having some kind of crisis?
“You're back!” Buck tells him once he reaches him, throwing his arms around John's neck like he hasn't seen him in weeks. John returns the hug, confused. “I've been outside for ten minutes, Buck. Did you really miss me that much?” He asks him, tenderness in his voice.
Buck pulls back to look at him, his eyes wide and shiny in the soft light of the pub. “Of course I did,” he answers, tone serious like when he tries to explain calculus to John but with a slanted smile on his face. “I always miss you when you're not here,” he adds and goes for a kiss, somehow missing half of John's mouth and ending up crushing his mouth against John's upper lip and his nose.
John laughs and repositions him, kissing him softly on the lips; suddenly, the reason behind Buck's weird behavior is clear as day.
“Buck. Are you drunk?” John asks, lips curling up in amusement. Stubborn as ever, even with the heady smell of liquor in his breath, Buck shakes his head.
“M'not,” Buck protests feigning a serious expression, but his credibility dissolves in a fit of giggles. “Benny bought me one drink. Can't be drunk on one drink,” he adds with conviction, and leans forward for another kiss — his lips are unbelievably soft and plushy, even in the middle of winter and with him biking his way around town every day.
“Was it a girly drink?” John enquires licking his lips after the kiss and tasting sugar, the only thing that makes a drink bearable for Buck. The other nods conspiratorially, running a hand up and down the front of John's newest winter jacket. “This is hideous,” he declares.
John starts laughing. “You got it for me, Buck.”
“I know,” Buck says, half annoyed. “Because you kept riding around on Our Baby in your leather jacket. You need to stay warm even when I'm not there.”
“Oh? Do you want to keep me warm instead?” John asks, amused at following his drunk boyfriend's stream of thoughts. Buck nods, a happy little smile on his face, and hugs him again, this time even tighter and nuzzling his face in the curve of John's neck; John's starting to sweat, between the sheepskin and Buck's warmth and the thick air of the pub, but he lets the hug last as long as Buck wants, content with pressing little kisses to the side of his head, melting in the embrace.
Outside, slow and silent, it's starting to snow.