Morning lingered overhead as he flickered his eyes open, eyelashes flashing with sunlight jumping through the crack in the curtains to greet him. He sighed contentedly, rolled over, and gently rested his arm across his sleeping lover. He always loved this time of day, this feeling of waking up and feeling as though everything was perfect. Cry murmured soft breaths of words in his sleep, as though even in his dreams he liked the sound of his own voice. Who didn't?
Scents of sweet sweat and the night before lingered, but nothing more beautifully gentle as the almost honey-like haze of aromas that seemed to cling to his partner, almost as lovingly as he did. Pewdie smiled as he shut his eyes loosely, huddling closer, nuzzling tenderly into the back of Cry's thick chocolate locks, breathing in the divine sense of him. He wore an aftershave of kisses - so delicate and yet so fantastically powerful and luxurious and overwhelming and subtle all at once. It was that kind of scent that instantly takes you back to a better time, a happier time, when everything was simple and comfortable...
Cry mumbled something and tugged the duvet over him some more, burying his face deeper into the cushion, dragging his little blanket up to his chin. Pewdie had never really noticed it before; it was a rather faded yellow colour by now, ragged with age but nevertheless, and perhaps even all the more, adored. Curious, Pewds draped his arm over his partner to touch it, and Cry just flinched away, murmuring inaudiably again. Pewdie smiled a little and kissed his temple softly, before lying back to contemplate.
It was clearly something special, or else Cry wouldn't be hanging onto it so tightly, but Pewds was sure he hadn't seen it before. Or rather, he'd always been "otherwise engaged" and not noticed it. The latter seemed more likely to him. With a slight sigh and bundling himself further into the bedcovers, he shut his eyes again, deciding to have another half hour's rest.
Two hours later, Pewdiepie woke up alone. For a moment he panicked, flailing around as if still trapped in his split-second nightmare, before taking a deep breath and laughing at himself, wondering what that was even about. He was used to the images haunting his mind; isn't everyone? Nowadays he didn't even remember them. Wondering whether that was actually more worrying than knowing, he swung out of the bed, noting it was no longer morning, and slipped on his slippers. Before he left the bedroom he glanced back at the bed, pondering where Cry's blanket was. He shook his head, baffled, and almost glaring at his own t-shirt on the floor walked out half-naked.
Actually, that's a lie; he was more than half-naked; Pewdie was far too relaxed here and insisted on only wearing boxers. Obviously Cry didn't object, but the mail-man was a little freaked out the first time he came to the door with an erection.
Cry stood at the kitchen counter, waiting beside the two mugs he'd set out for them and a half-boiled kettle, and across his shoulder was slung the little yellow blanket. Pewdie beamed at this sentimentality, before that beam become a smirk as he snuck up on his partner and covered his eyes, taking the shorter man by surprise so much that he yelped a little.
"Guess who?" Pewds joked, before quickly leaning forward and kissing the length of his partner's neck softly.
Cry chuckled warmly, tugging Pewdie's hands away easily to turn and kiss him properly. "Good morning to you too," he teased when he pulled back, grinning up at the messy blonde with a glimmer of love in his eyes, only to be clouded over by the dimness of the room and tiredness, undoubtedly the result of the night before. Pewdie couldn't help but feel proud of himself for that. "Tea?"
Pewdie nodded slowly, eyes wandering to the blanket before he raised his eyebrows a little in question, even tipping his head somewhat. Cry just rolled his eyes and turned back to the kettle, hiding his blush as he poured the tea. Pewdie, never one for being ignored, gently snatched the blanket and held it draped across his hand, and for a few seconds Cry didn't notice, and then suddenly:
"Hey, give that back!"
Pewdie jumped back, clinging to it mischeviously, like a puppy with something it shouldn't have. Cry, the ever-tollerant owned of such a pup, smirked and put his hands on his hips. Pewds raised his eyebrows again, and Cry ran after him as he slipped away, dodging the laptop desk and ducking behind the sofa. Laughing, the brunette followed, but Pewdie skirted round to the front of the sofa again and kneeled up on it; behind the sofa, Cry jumped over to him and pressed his partner back, climbing on top of him and swiping back the blanket, although seeming to have enjoyed the chase more than the catch.
Pewdie was quite the opposite. With Cry on top of him, he was pleasantly surprised; and they both knew it. Cry just shot him a smile as if to say "can't we at least have our tea first?"
Pewdie smirked back as if to say "nope", but he chuckled it off and instead asked, "What's with the blanket?"
Cry blushed again slightly, explaining, "I've had it for a long, long time, okay? Call me childish but... it still comforts me."
"I don't think it's childish," Pewdie reassured, resting his palm to his partner's cheek lovingly. "I think it's sweet. Adorable, even."
Cry blushed even harder, his heart pounding with pride in his partner, before he took Pewdie's hand off of his cheek and curled his lover's fingers around his precious blanket. For a moment Pewds looked completely baffled, and then his expression spoke that no one had ever done anything so symbollic towards him. No words were needed; their hearts sang of everything that could have needed to be said.
Cry leaned closer to kiss Pewdie's cheek, and then climbed off of him, striding back to the kitchen and taking out the teabags. Pewdie watched him in complete amazement, when Cry suddenly turned and reminded, "You better not do anything dirty with that."
Pewdie could do nothing but laugh and say, "I wasn't even thinking about it... till you mentioned it..."
Cry shook his head and brought him over a cup of tea, curling up against him on the sofa, sipping softly as the curls of steam vanished gently above them.