Coffee #11; Blue Raspberry #24
Author: Regret
Rating: G
Story: Destruction/Reconstruction Steampunk Universe
Challenge: Coffee #11 - Book; Blue Raspberry #24 - Lost In Translation
Word Count: 340
Summary: A sleepy Kirill would quite like Niko to read to him.
Notes: Utter fluff. Short utter fluff. I like writing fluff with these boys. And isn't it funny how it's only when you're busy that people start talking at you?
Kirill rolled over and blinked sleepily up at Niko. “What’re you reading?”
The older man flashed the cover at him, smiling at the younger man’s plain incomprehension. “It’s a book about mechanics. Don’t worry,” he added as Kirill squinted at it, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted, “it’s not in English.”
“Good,” he murmured as his head dropped back to the pillow, his eyes falling closed again. “I thought I was being stupid.”
Niko swiped a playful blow at Kirill’s head, ruffling his soft hair as his hand passed over with nothing more than a breeze. “I told you, you’re not stupid.”
Kirill snorted and nestled closer, resting his forehead against Niko’s hip, then hesitated and looked shyly at him. “Would you... I mean...”
“You want me to read aloud?” Balancing the book easily in one hand, he let the other drop to rest on Kirill’s head, teasing his fingers through the soft strands. “I can try to translate it, if you like?”
Kirill mumbled something, but the sound was incomprehensible even to himself. Above him, Niko chuckled and began to speak, his voice low and soothing.
After five minutes, Niko glanced down and grinned. “And the something-something connects to the thingy, which causes the god-knows-what to do something, but no one’s really quite sure. That’s what it says. Honestly.”
Kirill’s only answer was a gentle snore.
“These learned foreign types can’t write to save their lives.” He laid the book down on the bedside table, careful not to disturb the sleeping man, then slid down under the quilt. Kirill was warm and fit perfectly against his chest, barely even stirring as Niko wrapped strong arms around him and whispered against his head, “or maybe I’m not so good at translating when you’re so pretty and distracting.”
Kirill shifted slightly at the gentle kiss pressed to the top of his head but remained oblivious to his lover’s amusement, even when Niko breathed, “sweet dreams,” and, tired and happy, allowed his own eyes to droop closed as well.
Rating: G
Story: Destruction/Reconstruction Steampunk Universe
Challenge: Coffee #11 - Book; Blue Raspberry #24 - Lost In Translation
Word Count: 340
Summary: A sleepy Kirill would quite like Niko to read to him.
Notes: Utter fluff. Short utter fluff. I like writing fluff with these boys. And isn't it funny how it's only when you're busy that people start talking at you?
Kirill rolled over and blinked sleepily up at Niko. “What’re you reading?”
The older man flashed the cover at him, smiling at the younger man’s plain incomprehension. “It’s a book about mechanics. Don’t worry,” he added as Kirill squinted at it, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted, “it’s not in English.”
“Good,” he murmured as his head dropped back to the pillow, his eyes falling closed again. “I thought I was being stupid.”
Niko swiped a playful blow at Kirill’s head, ruffling his soft hair as his hand passed over with nothing more than a breeze. “I told you, you’re not stupid.”
Kirill snorted and nestled closer, resting his forehead against Niko’s hip, then hesitated and looked shyly at him. “Would you... I mean...”
“You want me to read aloud?” Balancing the book easily in one hand, he let the other drop to rest on Kirill’s head, teasing his fingers through the soft strands. “I can try to translate it, if you like?”
Kirill mumbled something, but the sound was incomprehensible even to himself. Above him, Niko chuckled and began to speak, his voice low and soothing.
After five minutes, Niko glanced down and grinned. “And the something-something connects to the thingy, which causes the god-knows-what to do something, but no one’s really quite sure. That’s what it says. Honestly.”
Kirill’s only answer was a gentle snore.
“These learned foreign types can’t write to save their lives.” He laid the book down on the bedside table, careful not to disturb the sleeping man, then slid down under the quilt. Kirill was warm and fit perfectly against his chest, barely even stirring as Niko wrapped strong arms around him and whispered against his head, “or maybe I’m not so good at translating when you’re so pretty and distracting.”
Kirill shifted slightly at the gentle kiss pressed to the top of his head but remained oblivious to his lover’s amusement, even when Niko breathed, “sweet dreams,” and, tired and happy, allowed his own eyes to droop closed as well.