ah yes, two muscular men who have a ton of gear with them and look like they could beat the shit out of you blindfolded, let’s try attacking them empty handed and alone
alternate title: these fuckin dorks are gonna ruin me
alternate title 2: soft mage, warm mage, giant ball of fur. happy mage, sleepy mage, oh shit he really purrs
1,100 words of pure fluff
The first rays of sunlight are just now reaching the horizon, but Tsurin is already wide awake. Her eyes long since adjusted to the dull grey light that’s crept over their bedroom, she glances around the room. The slight dent in the wall where a game of keep-away four months ago had abruptly ended when Jasper tripped backwards and slammed his head into the wooden support beam, somehow walking away with only a headache and a sheepish grin instead of a cracked skull. The shelves opposite the bed that held several years’ worth of keepsakes, her life spelled out in glittering stones and scraps of cloth and a multitude of items at the same time monetarily worthless and immeasurably valuable. The small hoard of weapons by the door- including several blades of varying length, all dwarfed by the massive leather-wrapped glaive that sat at least seven feet long from blade to carved crystal-tipped metal cap. And, beside her, still sleeping like a rock: Jasper.
For once he doesn’t have his arms around her, effectively pinning her to his side and unable to wriggle away or coax him far enough into waking to let her up- as had happened on multiple occasions. Instead, one of the thicker blankets has been drawn up between them; the heavy folds are apparently an acceptable substitute, judging by how tightly he hugs the quilt to himself with one arm.
His hair is still long- and growing. Apparently he didn’t bother to sit down and cut it the entire time he was off with the Inquisition, and hasn’t gotten back into the habit since he returned. The short shock of chestnut fluff he had when they first met is now long enough to draw itself loose from its tie to spill over the pillow and drape unceremoniously over his shoulder. In the quiet of the dawn, she reaches out and tucks a soft curl- his hair was actually curly, it turned out!- back and away from his mouth. Maybe for once he won’t wake up with stray hairs caught between his lips.
When he doesn’t stir, she continues threading her fingertips through his hair, the pad of her thumb brushing lightly over his cheek. The soft warmth draws a smile to her face. An airy feeling bubbles in her chest, only growing the longer she spends gently carding her fingers through his hair and pulling each loosely-twisted lock to twirl over her knuckles like silk ribbons. Eventually, one eye does crack open, lazily watching her through the haze of sleep until a small smile breaks out on both their faces.
“Like my hair, do you?” Comes Jasper’s gravelly whisper.
“Very much.” She replies, pushing her fingers further through the tangle to cup the back of his head. “I don’t think it was half this soft before you left.” A breathy huff is as close as he’s getting to a laugh this early.
“Maybe it was, maybe it was just too short for you to tell.”
“No, no, I’m certain.” She settles closer to him to brush their foreheads together.
“I take it you don’t want me to cut it, then?”
“I don’t think /you/ want to cut it.”
“And how certain are you of /that/, mi amor?” Both his eyes blink open now, fixing her with a soft blue stare.
“You’ve been back for a month now and only let it grow. I doubt I need to hide the scissors to make you keep this.”
“Mm, perhaps.” He sighs, eyes sliding closed momentarily like an overgrown cat basking in the attention.
They lie in comfortable silence for some time, warm breaths mixing in the cool winter air. It’s Tsurin who finally breaks the quiet with words only half-whispered,
“Y’know, you kinda remind me of a cat, like this. A giant, fluffy cat just flopped out all over the place. Almost expect you to start purring if I scratch you behind the ear.”
“My purring skills are a bit rusty, I’m afraid,” He gives a quiet laugh, nudging his forehead gently against hers. “I can, however, provide other cat-like services.”
“Such as?”
“I’m an expert shedder, for one. Just in case you haven’t noticed my hair literally all over the apartment.” His hand slides easily over her shoulder to rub long circles into her upper arm. “I can sleep all day and always manage to be in your way, then at night when you want to sleep I can run back and forth through all the rooms, occasionally stopping to scream into the darkness. When you get up to see what’s wrong I’ll just stare at you like you interrupted some important conversation. Proper cat stuff.” She can’t help but giggle at the thought of it, fingers coming up to curl over her growing smile.
“Mm, I think I’ll pass on the midnight screaming. How about curling up in my lap after I’ve had a long day?”
“Si, si, I can do that. Very easily.”
“That can balance out the shedding, then. The real question is: can you snuggle properly? Give me cute little kitten kisses if I scratch your chin just right?” Her fingertips play at his jawline, the rough scratch of his stubble not entirely unpleasant.
“Kitten kisses?” He can’t keep the sly curl out of his smirk, “Like this?” Before she can finish thinking ‘ah, fuck’ he’s lunged forward, briefly pinning her to the mattress just long enough to drag his tongue up the side of her face before darting back into place.
“Augh, shit, no!” She laughs, sitting up and scrubbing her palm over her cheek, “Adorable mental image ruined! kittens don’t give giant sloppy licks!” Her other hand swats half-heartedly at his shoulder while he just lies back and grins at her.
“And just how do kittens kiss, then?”
“Soft and /dry/, for one...”
“Ah, so, more like this?” He pushes himself up to sit beside her and presses a small kiss to the point of her chin, soon following with another further along her jaw, and another. Tsurin lets her eyes flutter closed and focuses on the soft brush of lips traveling the arc of her face from one side to the other, Jasper’s hands slow and warm at her sides, gradually drawing her over to sit in his lap. Her fingers find their way into his hair again and lace themselves through the locks while his mouth dips lower to her neck, punctuating each kiss with Rivaini whispers.
“Mi amor,” tucked under the curve of her ear. “Mi vida,” where her pulse beats in her throat. “Mi tesoro,” smoothed along her collarbone. “Mi cielo,” just on the upper edge of her scar. His teeth graze her neck, ever so slightly, and she shudders, pulling herself closer until she’s flush against his chest.
“Yeah, that’s...” She hums eventually, comfortable in the warm weight of jasper’s arms around her like a living blanket, “That’s a bit closer to kitten-y kisses. I like it.” He smiles into her neck.
