Come morning, both of them will still be drunk and a little bit in love
*just ignore the inconsistencies in their designs (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
More of my Transformers au hc:
The main reason the two of them aren't morning people is because they both like to stay up late talking to each other. Usually they like to call or visit the other but occasionally they like to wander off in empty meadows and look at the stars. Sometimes they have a little drink together if it was a really long day. I like to think that when Op gets really drunk he gets more loud and carefree while Megs becomes more dazed and just stares off into space (usually just listens to Op babble on and chimes in every now and then to show he's paying attention).
May I humbly ask for more snail / sea slug Rain and cronchy Dew. I’m with the anon who asked. They are so special to me.
Okay this isn’t the main thing I want to write but here’s just a little something …
No CWs, a walk in the woods, they’re in love and it’s gross
The alarm on Rain’s phone feels like a violent slap in the face. Dew shields himself by burying his face beneath the thick duvet and flannel sheets. He dug them out from the cedar chest earlier that week, when he saw the notes Rain left him in the frost on their window.
They really ought replace them, seal them so the moisture and cold could no longer seep in during the winter months. Though Dew laments any remedy that would stop Rain from cuddling closer to him, twining limbs and tail, closing any and all gaps between them. Even if it means freezing cold feet being tucked beneath his own.
He digs his claws into the covers as Rain tries to peel them back, but his resolve weakens when Rain digs a few fingers into his ribs.
“Not fair.” A grumpy, muffled shout, its sincerity betrayed when Rain pulls the blanket away, and Dew is grinning ear to ear.
“I believe you planned this outing, did you not?”
Dew bites his tongue and nods. Tries not to stare at the dark circles under Rain’s eyes. He did propose catching a sunrise stroll through the forest.
To see the sun dripping through the leaves, weighing them down with syrupy golden light as they float to the ground.
Rain yawns more than once and Dew thinks maybe it should’ve been a sunset walk instead.
Thankfully they’d dug out everything they would need the night before. Heavy sweaters, thick soled boots to replace bare feet that spent the summer cushioned by soft grass and sun-warmed floor boards.
It was deceptively chilly outside, the colour of the leaves suggested otherwise. Burnt orange, deep russet and bright yellows. They reminded Rain of the heat in Dew’s gaze, the colour in his cheeks, the shine in his hair.
But Dew was right, it was already in the negative temps throughout the night. So, despite being quite used to wearing little at all, Rain stuffed himself into the thick layers of clothing he was provided with and tried not to complain.
The sun was still hesitating, though the milky blue of twilight was more than enough to see their way to the trail at the edge of the grounds.
Dew had to fight to not scratch at the dry patches on his skin as the frigid morning breeze nipped at his skin. After all, he was trying to show Rain there was so much more to this place, this world, than taking care of him.
The anxiety began welling in his chest as soon as the temperatures started to drop and his skin began to dry out, crack and itch. Taking up so much space he felt he could scarcely take a breath.
He’d come so far, and he spent every day trying to prove his independence. To not be a burden. To Rain or to anyone else. For all the days weeks and months spent nursing him back to health, he would pay it all back and then some.
Dew is so focused on not bringing attention to the fact that his face is starting to burn as the wind whips through the trees that he doesn’t seem to notice the backlit canopy above their heads. The whole reason why they’re out here.
He almost falls over when Rain comes to a dead stop midway through the looping trail.
“It reminds me of the stained glass at the Abbey.” He remarks, staring up at the sky. He’s right, it does. Layers upon layers, the branches like the solder holding it all together. The same fiery colours, albeit a different scene.
Dew’s eyes flit between the sky, and Rain’s face. His skin dappled like a fawn with little golden spots from where the light breaks through the dense cover. He shifts and the light catches in his eye, they tear up at the intrusion, or so Dew thinks. It really makes them sparkle.
For a few long moments, Dew forgets completely about how his skin prickles.
“Thank you for showing me.” Dew nods, watches Rain’s eyes track a leaf dipping and swerving on the breeze until it lands on the toe of his boot.
Rain bends over and picks it up by the stem, twirling it in his fingers. He seems truly in awe of it all. Like he is with most things. And Dew remembers he used to feel that way, before the pain. And in watching Rain, he realizes he can feel that way again.
Perhaps he stopped caring. Perhaps he wanted it all to be over.
Perhaps he underestimated just how much Rain really upended his life in the best way.
Rain looks back at him finally, with a smile and outstretched hand, and he almost can’t stand the way his heart swells in his chest. Almost, but finally - something feels bigger than all of the fear. Big enough to smother it, at least for a little while.
