"Wake up, Sal!" the Slytherin was practically thrown off his bed, when Godric decided it was good idea to forcefully pull away the comforter in which he had been wrapped in. Fortunately for the ravenhead, several members of Salazar's own pillow army had fallen from the bed during his sleep, cushioning the fall.
That of course did not stop the LeFay Lord from glaring deadly at his...companion, best friend, ex-lover, hopefully future lover, husband, soulmate, better half – okay he should really stop that particular train of thought, because he knew where it went: To inappropriate thoughts way too early in the morning.
Still, that crude method of waking him up had worked and Salazar was ready to start the day. Until he caught sight of Godric.
The sight hit him like a freight train. Godric wore well fitting, leg hugging jeans, in a dark grey and shiny black oxfords with small heels, which pronounced the redhead already long legs even more.
To that his friend had donned a black leather jacket and white dress shirt. But that was not what took Salazar's breath away. Because between shirt and jacket Godric wore a V-neck sweater.
A Slytherin green V-neck sweater.
Maybe he was not that ready to start the day yet. Thank Merlin that Godric had taken his unresponsiveness as tiredness and had shoved him into the bathroom, throwing in some muggle clothing before leaving the room.
For a full minute the Slytherin Founder stood in the middle of the bath, still shocked.
Then he mechanically started to dress up for the day. He too wore grey jeans, though his were from a finer material than Godric's. While he appreciated that Godric had taken his easily irritated skin into account, his main concern was how it would feel like to hook his fingers into the waistband of Godric's jeans, tugging the rough fabric slowly downwards to. ARGH!
He was not that sexually frustrated that he would become a horny mess just because Godric wore green.
He was not that emotionally frustrated that he would become a love-struck fool just because the redhead wore his house's colour.
He was Salazar Slytherin.
He was cool, calm and collected.
He was in control.
The last time he had seen Godric wore green had been at their bonding. Of course that particular piece of clothing had come off as soon as they had entered their – No, stop, bad brain! Not going there. This train of thought is counter-productive!
He was not sexually frustrated. He was desperate.
He was not a love-sick fool. He was a pining mess.
He was Salazar Slytherin.
He was cool, calm and not so collected
He was out of in control.
He was ... completely screwed.
"Sal..." whined Godric from the hall way. This was not a good moment to hear that voice. No definitely not a good moment.
"Salazar~~~" groaned Godric, drawing out the "a" vowels. Sweet Morgana that voice would be the death of him that is if the V-neck did not kill him before that. Or the catlike green eyes. Or the messy red hair that was like silk to touch. Or the silvery scars drawn across tanned and toned limbs.
He was more than sexually frustrated.
He was beyond smitten with Godric.
He was Solomon Emrys-LeFay.
He was, had been and would always be in love with Godric Gryffindor.
"Sal, are you coming? I want to go somewhere with you!"
Five hours later Salazar was not sure how he felt. He had not expected some overly romantic gesture, he knew Godric was not exactly what you would call a romantic. The red head preferred to rather do things that he knew both of them would enjoy than what society's view on romance expected them to do.
Still Salazar had expected a date. Not a muggle holiday parade. But maybe that was too much to ask yet. For all his boldness and courage when facing monsters, Godric was way too careful and gentle when confronted with Salazar. Always worrying that he would somehow hurt him.
The disappointment was great, sure, but it paled compared to the adoration and affection, the love, Salazar felt when watching Godric weave through the crowd just to look for him, all the while carefully balancing a tray of Mexican food and cool beverages on one arm, while pushing through the people masses with the other.
Cinco de Mayo had no real significance to British wizards. To the French it was a day they thought to forget, since it was one of the days where they lost one of their greatest potion ingredient suppliers. While it was not the Mexican Independence Day, many Mexican wizards and witches around the world celebrated it as a day for their cultural identity. Still it was a great way to cut loose and enjoy themselves.
And the food was fantastic. It was not the first helping of Mole Poblano Godric had bought for them and it probably would not be the last.
Another five hours later Salazar was stuffed with Mexican food and carrying a drunken Godric back into their home. Collapsing on the couch, he tried to pry Godric out of his clothes – for not completely altruistic purposes – but only managed to free him from his jacket and shoes. The dress shirt had gone off before they started walking home when Godric had claimed it was "too hot" and had almost tossed it into a trashcan. That had been the point where Salazar realized his friend (husband – shut up, stupid inebriated brain!) was way drunker than he had let on and had decided to drag Godric home.
So now the Lion of Gryffindor was sprawled on their spacious couch in jeans and a thin cotton sweater that did nothing to hide his body. And Salazar – whose emotional control had been off for hours – was drunk.
He would later reason that his alcohol-induced mind had been responsible for his decision, because without any further ado he took off his shoes and jacket too, laying down beside Godric, maybe even snuggling a bit.
"Dear heart please stop getting involved in everything. Your job is to pump blood. That's it."
Unknown source
It was in the wee hours of morning when Salazar was awoken again. Godric's jade green eyes glowed like emeralds in the pale pre-dawn light. Everything else was toned out by a filter of blue.
Green eyes were clear and focused, telling Salazar that his friend's mind had been cleaned of the alcohol. But knowing Godric like he did, it still meant that his friend's barriers were lowered and he would be completely honest.
And that he would not remember a thing from this moment when he woke up the next time.
Still Godric said: "I love you."
"You won't remember that you said that come morning."
"Doesn't matter. Doesn't change a thing. I still love you. And I cannot even remember a time when I haven't loved you."
Salazar's breath hitched. He had thought the same often enough for the last 24 hours. Actually he thought that every day, but not as prominent. But if he told him, Godric would not remember. So he did the logical thing:
"Sleep, Godric."
"Maybe. I just want to look a bit more at you though. Don't know when I get the chance to again."
"You can always look at me." You can ONLY look at me.
"Yes, but not like this. Not when you're this open..."
"I am always open to you admiring me." And to much more than that.
"Hmhm." Godric's eyes drooped. Seemed like time was up. "I love you." Mumbled Godric.
Salazar smiled. Of course he knew that. But it felt good to hear. He looked at Godric's lips. They were close enough, Godric's defences were down and if he did not like it, he would not remember later on.
Just a centimetre closer and their lips would touch. It would be all both of them wanted. What was holding him back?
He stared at the slightly parted lips.
Just one little kiss...
Only when he was sure that Godric was really asleep he crossed the remaining tiny gap and kissed his partner's lips with a whispered "I love you too, my lion." Before falling asleep as well.
He missed the sliver of green watching him through dark lashes and the almost unnoticeable upwards tilt of slightly moist lips.