FWT ONE SHOTS

• for every cold night pt.2

Morning came soon enough. By the time Dream awoke, it was still dark out. He shivered and dug himself deeper into his pocket of warmth. He faced his husband who was still dead asleep. Raking his fingers through his grayish white hair, he could see small hints of ginger but it was a cute quality nonetheless. The blond pressed his lips to his forehead before untangling himself out of bed, to which he was met by a sharp wave of icy cold. The option of running back under the covers was tempting.

He yawned, stretching out his back. Several cracks being let out, he cringed at the sound and took a deep breath. The watch on Fundy's side table said it was only half past six. Early enough to actually be productive within the day, but the sudden hand dragging him back down onto the bed inferred otherwise. Fundy subconsciously pulled Dream over on top of him.

Fundy was warm and Dream was cold. It was inevitable that he wasn't going to deny the embrace from his husband. He propped himself up by holding his arms on either side of Fundy. Leaning down, he pressed his lips in the crook of his husband's neck, earning a content sigh from the once ginger.

After a while, he wrangled himself out of Fundy's hold. Stepping back and kneeling down beside the bed, he traced his finger along his jawline. "Funds," he whispered. Only soft snores escaped his mouth. "C'mon, Its, you gotta get up. You can't sleep all day," he whispered.

Fundy turned his head, looking at Dream with soft, tired, eyes. He reached out, setting his hand on Dream's head, mumbling, "yes, I can."

Dream took the hand off his head and held it in his hands, warming it up between his two palms. He placed multiple kisses along Fundy's knuckles, absorbing the sight of his husband's flushed cheeks in his mind. "I'm making you coffee, alright?" He tempted, squeezing his hand a bit.

Fundy frowned, holding out his other hand in a grabbing motion. Dream dragged him out of the bed and held him up with his arms. "I hate how only you can get away with calling me that, Fundy mumbled.

"Calling you what?" he mused

Fundy hummed, "you're too pretty to play stupid, D." He let one of his hands stray up to Dream's hair, fingers playing with the subtle golden curls.

They stood together with their arms wrapped down around one another. Fundy wasn't used to this much physical affection, if he were to be honest. The past month of neglect and here he is being spoiled. He'll relish the touch he can get before Dream would eventually go off on another trip, no contact or message for weeks at a time.

They shivered under the cold, Fundy dug himself deeper into the embrace. "Give me your sweatshirt," he said. And Dream made no comment, slipping off the green fabric off over his head— he had put it on in the middle of the night, the peak of the night too cold for the few layers of blankets. He kept an arm held onto Fundy's waist, the other struggling to slide the sweatshirt over the white haired head. Fundy assisted the rest of the process, embracing the already warm sweatshirt like a second hug.

Dream dragged Fundy along to the kitchen. Already setting up a kettle for boiling water, he hummed a familiar tune to himself, watching steadily as Fundy sat down and rested his chin in his hands. They shared the soft atmosphere of tranquility, knowledge only so far that they could tell it won't last for long.

The sudden 'clink' of a glass made him look down in front of him. The dark swirling brown of the coffee let out a subtle steam. Fundy took a sip, eyes widening when he tasted a familiar caramel flavor. He looked over at Dream, who had already turned to prepare his own cup. "You remembered?" He questioned, breaking their silence and making Dream look up from his routine.

"You sound surprised," he replied, his back turned as he focused on his own cup.

Fundy tilted his head. "I thought you only paid attention to the extravagant things," he pondered to himself. "We only got coffee together for our third date. It just seems like an odd thing to remember from something so long ago." He tapped his finger against the table. Dream still faced away from him, he could hear the 'clinks' of the spoon hitting the ceramic, but when Dream turned back around, he held this warm smile while looking at him.