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likealarkDirk/Jake
The apartment's dark when Dirk comes home, illuminated only by the fading gleam of sunset through the uncovered windows. He picks his way through the mess on the floor by muscle memory and squints at the unmoving shape on the sofa.
"Jake?" he calls, but gets no response.
He bites down on a flare of panic, tells himself it's irrational, Jake is probably just sleeping. Still, his steps are hurried as he moves towards the couch and sits on its edge. "Jake?" he murmurs, pressing a hand to his head. Maybe he's sick. Maybe—
"Dirk?" Jake's eyes blink open slowly and the knot in Dirk's throat eases.
"It's me," he replies.
Jake makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, then locks his arms around Dirk's waist and tugs, half invitation, half plea. Dirk relents, flopping sideways onto couch beside Jake with a thump. Immediately Jake winds his arms and legs around him like an overly affectionate boa constrictor.
After a moment of squirming, Dirk turns so that he's facing Jake, arm flung over Jake's broad torso, his feet dangling over the couch's far arm, and his face mashed against Jake's neck. Jake flinches, then plucks Dirk's glasses off to toss them on the coffee table. Dirk makes a face.
"Easy on the shades."
"Balderdash," Jake says. "You have ten more pairs in your bedroom, don't make a fuss."
Dirk headbutts him out of spite and Jake chuckles, a low rumble that Dirk can feel beneath his forearm.
"I have stuff to do," Dirk mumbles.
Jake reaches a hand up and strokes lazy fingers through Dirk's hair. He can feel his shoulders relax despite his best intentions. "Dirk," Jake sighs, "what could possibly be more important than this?"
Dirk looks up. In the faint orange-gold of sunset he can see the tips of Jake's long eyelashes over the curve of his cheek and the sharp jut of his jawbone. He breathes in and smells sandalwood and gunsmoke, and that means home and safety to him more than anything else.
Dirk sighs and squeezes Jake a little tighter. "Just for a little while," he murmurs, eyes sliding shut.
"Quite right," Jake whispers, shifting to press a kiss to Dirk's hair.
subject header is from this
The apartment's dark when Dirk comes home, illuminated only by the fading gleam of sunset through the uncovered windows. He picks his way through the mess on the floor by muscle memory and squints at the unmoving shape on the sofa.
"Jake?" he calls, but gets no response.
He bites down on a flare of panic, tells himself it's irrational, Jake is probably just sleeping. Still, his steps are hurried as he moves towards the couch and sits on its edge. "Jake?" he murmurs, pressing a hand to his head. Maybe he's sick. Maybe—
"Dirk?" Jake's eyes blink open slowly and the knot in Dirk's throat eases.
"It's me," he replies.
Jake makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, then locks his arms around Dirk's waist and tugs, half invitation, half plea. Dirk relents, flopping sideways onto couch beside Jake with a thump. Immediately Jake winds his arms and legs around him like an overly affectionate boa constrictor.
After a moment of squirming, Dirk turns so that he's facing Jake, arm flung over Jake's broad torso, his feet dangling over the couch's far arm, and his face mashed against Jake's neck. Jake flinches, then plucks Dirk's glasses off to toss them on the coffee table. Dirk makes a face.
"Easy on the shades."
"Balderdash," Jake says. "You have ten more pairs in your bedroom, don't make a fuss."
Dirk headbutts him out of spite and Jake chuckles, a low rumble that Dirk can feel beneath his forearm.
"I have stuff to do," Dirk mumbles.
Jake reaches a hand up and strokes lazy fingers through Dirk's hair. He can feel his shoulders relax despite his best intentions. "Dirk," Jake sighs, "what could possibly be more important than this?"
Dirk looks up. In the faint orange-gold of sunset he can see the tips of Jake's long eyelashes over the curve of his cheek and the sharp jut of his jawbone. He breathes in and smells sandalwood and gunsmoke, and that means home and safety to him more than anything else.
Dirk sighs and squeezes Jake a little tighter. "Just for a little while," he murmurs, eyes sliding shut.
"Quite right," Jake whispers, shifting to press a kiss to Dirk's hair.
subject header is from this
