And I don't know why I can't keep my eye(s) off of you

[almost_knightly]

[It's a working studio, and it very much looks like it. Just about the only parts of it that aren't crowded with fabric are the space that needs to be free to allow the door to open and the bed; other than that, it's everywhere. It's draped across chairs, stacked in piles meant to allow for speculation on color coordination, and -- occasionally --

Comments

[mad_poetry]

*other-Break, meanwhile, is out and about in search of his delinquent husband. And since it's the middle of the night and his older counterpart never showed up in their shared bedroom, that pretty much means one thing: said delinquent husband had some bout of artistic mania and has been busy sewing or knitting or crafting or somesuch until he drops.

Which means it's entirely possible he forgot to eat dinner tonight, which means his dutiful spouse will have to bring him a snack. Cue the door coming open and the quiet clatter of porcelain as Break carries in a small tray, modestly spread with sandwiches, cookies, and tea for two. Unceremoniously he wanders inside, finds a slightly-less-fabric-covered corner of a side table to set it down on, then dances through the mess to find his older self where he's stretched out asleep.

It's with a surprisingly warm grin that he crouches down beside Break, leans over, and speaks kindly into his ear.*

My dear, your yarn collection is on fire.

*because, after all, they are still two Breaks

1/3

[almost_knightly]

[Break is a light sleeper at the best of times. Just now, the lights are still on, and he didn't actually intend to fall asleep. So he's already rousing a bit by the time his younger counterpart arrives to whisper his sweet nothings, and just awake enough to mumble:]

No's not, sod off --

2/3

[almost_knightly]

[...wait. But what if it is? You never know in this place --

Eye flying open, Break lifts up just enough to turn over his shoulder and stare at that particular corner, and it's --

What? What?]

3/3

[almost_knightly]

[...what. Oh, that little turd.

Break taps his fingers on the floor for a minute, and then he reaches up and loops one arm around the other's neck, dragging him down to the floor and scooting halfway on top of him.]

You, dearest, are a jerk.

[But he's nuzzling into his hair as he says it. Is there food? <3]