[Skitters in] HELLLLO~! ITS MEEEE~~~!
Okay so hear me out- Clothes Sharing/Clothes Stealing.
Your choice character(s), I want to STEAL their shit or vice versa. consider: it would be fun with size difference character(s), fun to fluster, or to claim as a partner.
your/My clothes? no. OUR Clothes! [communist bugs bunny]
YOU 🫵
Listen. I originally had plans to do a bunch of different characters for this -- you know how much I love this trope. But then I got carried away with one in particular, and well... I got a bit too soft. I'll absolutely be stealing this prompt for everyone else later, but for now...
Booker below the cut <3
Sunlight filters gently through the slats of the barely-drawn curtains, casting a single beam of warm light onto your sleeping form. It feels almost criminal, to be awoken from such a peaceful slumber -- the bed is plush, the blankets angel-soft, and the lithe arms wrapped around your waist are perfectly secure, and as loving as ever. And while the latter might be a more common occurrence than the comfortable bed that holds the two of you, you find the allure of a few more minutes by Booker's side, quiet and peaceful in the morning stillness, to be just as enticing as the material comforts you've been so blessed to indulge in.
How long has it been since you've all been treated to an inn as nice as this? You've never been one to complain about your lodging before, but with the windfall from your last con you've been able to splurge a little more than usual, and well… you sigh dreamily and let a small smile come to your lips as you nestle yourself a little further into the embrace of your lover. You might not get to stay here for very long, but you're keen to enjoy the lavish life while you can.
Minutes tick by as you fade in and out of sleep, soothed into a restful bliss by the steady breaths against your back. But as the sun rises, so do the other patrons of the inn you've found yourself in -- little by little, noise begins to trickle in through the walls, alerting you to the life waking just below your room. There's a brief tinge of annoyance that comes to you then, but the feeling is quickly stamped out as the scent of breakfast overtakes you… and suddenly, you find yourself much more amiable to the thought of rising.
The room has an almost heavenly glow to it as your eyes flutter open, taking in your surroundings in full for the first time this morning. Your belongs are few -- its easier to travel light, after all -- but with the way you've strewn them about the room, it almost feels like you've made these four walls a home.
Pale blue curtains flow gently against the walls as a slight morning breeze comes through the cracked window, drawing your eye to that corner of the room -- its chilly, and it almost makes you reconsider getting up, but then you spy Booker's worn jacket draped over the chair just to the right of the curtains.
He clings to you as you peel yourself from his sleeping arms, and its only through great patience and many a tender word that you manage to extract yourself. His ears flicker in annoyance as his hands fall to the bedspread, and you can't help but card your own hand through his fur one last time. A kiss to his forehead soothes the furrow in his brow as you murmur quiet promises of your return -- he's not quite awake yet, you're sure of it, but the action seems to placate his tired mind as his arms wrap around a nearby pillow and burrows his muzzle into the fabric.
And with that, you're bounding over to the chair, and slinging his tattered jacket around your form. The scent of him immediately envelops you, warming your heart just as the fabric warms your body, and you can't help but smile at the familiarity of it all.
You quietly putter about, making yourself a tad more presentable before going downstairs -- as excited as you are for the food that awaits you, you know your companions probably aren't going to go through the effort themselves, and you're probably going to need all the bargaining chips you can get if you're going to hassle the innkeep for another night here. Stray fur is pushed back into place within minutes, and with a quiet yawn you start to move towards the door -- but then a rustle of sheets draws your attention as Booker slowly leans up from the bed.
He blinks once, then twice -- his eyes hesitate to open once more on the second blink, as though sleep is still calling to him, even now. Fur sticks up in all directions, defying gravity even as his head bobs with the weight of resisting his own desire to fall back asleep. Although just as his head begins to fall he snaps back up, and his eyes finally focus on you.
His voice is low, groggy with sleep as he murmurs a quiet "good morning," and stretches his hand out towards you.
The bed bows as you return to him then, sitting just beside him, and meet his outstretched paw. Your reply mimics his own as his eyes flutter shut, like your very presence has put him at peace once again. The paw that envelops yours now, however, becomes more restless as it travels up your clothed arms, tracing along the edges of handmade patches before settling just between your shoulder blades. A gentle pressure tells you he's tempted to fall back asleep, to bring you back with him…
But then, he opens his eyes again -- he squints, peering you from beneath his eyelashes, and…
"Is that my jacket?" He asks.
You hum affirmatively, a smile rising to your lips as you slowly follow his coaxing to rest against his chest. Hard to resist him charms, when he's being this sweet.
"Yeah. You want it back?"
Your chest meets his own as you rest against him and your limbs entangle once more. Loving hands scratch little affirmations against your spine just as you start bringing his own stray strands into order, although it isn't long before you start rubbing precious little circles just behind his ears in the way you know he loves. His expression softens -- he's always so pretty, so tender in the mornings -- and your face mirrors his own in a gaze of pure love and relaxation.
"No no," he says quietly, "it looks good on you. Always does."
His statement is punctuated with a brief brush of his lips against your own, so brief that you can't help but card your hand more firmly through his fur to bring him back to you. He smiles then, like he was waiting on you to break and pull him closer -- knowing him, he probably was. Bastard.
There was a time, not long ago, when such a sight would have made the man act a fool. You still remember that starry eyed look of his, his hand placed dramatically to his heart as he professed his undying love for the view -- a brilliant attempt at overacting, to try and cover up how much the little gesture really meant to him. The memory sparks such a wave of fondness in you that you can't help but nip at his lower lip, just to try and throw him off balance like you used to back then -- and oh beautifully how it works, his hands coming to steady himself against your biceps as he huffs out a startled laugh against your lips.
Knowing your companions, there's probably only a limited time before the breakfast festivities downstairs go to ruins. Really, you should both get down there soon…
But surely, five more minutes couldn't hurt.
