Bungo Stray Dogs - The 12 Days of Christmas

Day 4: Lazy Mornings (Rimlaine)

Day 4, Prompt 25: Lazy Mornings || Soft blankets, familiar arms, and the morning light

The slight shifting of cotton blankets was heard, as the blinding, golden sunlight streamed in through the window, the white curtains pushed aside.

Dark, brown eyes groggily blinked the darkness away, as his bedroom came into shape. A soft groan left Verlaine's lips, as he turned to stretch, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes, when something wrapped around him prevented his movements from doing so.

He glanced down, smiling, as he saw his boyfriend, Arthur Rimbaud's, arms wrapped protectively around his waist.

Rimbaud's soft, comforting arms.

Verlaine smiled, as he shifted slightly, so as to not bother Rimbaud's sleep, his gaze shifting to the gold eyed man's peaceful features; his sharply angled face relaxed in the most delicately beautiful way possible, his long, black lashes gently touching the porcelain skin beneath his eyes as they stayed closed, and his raven black hair strung around his face as his breathing filled the room's silence with calming, rhythmic sounds.

For just a brief moment, Verlaine itched to caress Rimbuad's face, and when he slowly lifted up his hand to do so, Rimbaud stirred, a yawn leaving his pale, pink lips.

His golden eyes fluttered open, a smile appearing, as he pressed his lips against Verlaine's forehead. "Good morning, my love," he said, his voice almost like a croak from the lack of use during his slumber.

Red dusted Verlaine's cheeks, as he returned the kiss. "Good morning, mon cherie. Did you sleep well?"

Rimbaud turned on his back, stretching his arms above his head. "Yes, I did. And you?"

"As did I," Verlaine replied, resting his head in his hand, as he turned to watch Rimbaud stretch. Noticing eyes on him, the black-haired male wrapped his arms around Verlaine, as the blonde snuggled close to him, resting his head on Rimbaud's chest, giving him a view of the window beside the black-haired male.

Outside, cloaked in beautiful, glistening white snow, was a wonderland of snow-covered pine trees, mountains, and buildings. It seemed almost blinding - the way the golden, shining sun above in the clear blue sky reflected off of the sparkling snow, looking like powdered crystal.

At this time of day, there were no footprints, leaving the ground looking as pure as ever.

"It seems so beautiful," Verlaine remarked in awe.

"Indeed." Rimbaud moved, so now he was resting his head on Verlaine's shoulder. "But it seems so cold though; I would certainly die from it."

Verlaine chuckled at this, knowing Rimbaud was always shivering, no matter the time of day, and always dressed in the same winter attire, even when a gentle breeze was whispering during the summer season.

"How can you be cold when I will be there to warm you up with my loving embrace?" he asked, planting a kiss on Rimbaud's cold, pale hands.

Rimbaud yawned in response, sleepily muttering, "And a scarf."

Verlaine smiled at this, adding, "And a scarf. But for now, let us just stay here, shall we?"

Rimbaud hummed in response, gently squeezing Verlaine's hand.

For the rest of the morning, they stayed together like this, in each other's arms. But when Rimbaud suddenly wrapped his arms around Verlaine, bringing him close into a gentle embrace, he whispered into Verlaine's ear, "Merry Christmas, Paul."

Surprised by his words, scarlet dusted Verlaine's cheeks. But he didn't miss a beat, when he said, with a smile, "Joyeux Noël, Arthur."