Define Domestic
Jay rambled on, voice scratchy from the cold he was mostly over. The blond was on a riff about life, the universe and everything - only his answers were a hell of a lot longer then “forty-two“. The pair of them were snuggling on the couch, Jay draped over as much of Bob as he possibly could without actually sitting in the brunet’s lap.
They’d been seated like this for a couple of hours, mostly ignoring the TV. Bob’s trapped arm was starting fall asleep but he was too comfortable to bother moving. Sooner or later one of them would have to get up for a drink or something, so why disturbed a good thing? This was like their own version of quiet.
Bob shifted enough to tap out a cigarette and light it, absently nodding his head to the smaller man‘s chatter. Jay paused his discourse long enough to snag the cigarette from Bob’s lips and take a drag. He passed the cigarette back and continued on.
Bob grinned at this. He remembered the first time Jay had done that. They’d been... damn, maybe fourteen at the time, sitting shoulders pressed together on Bob’s bed bitching about school. Jay had stolen his cigarette, taken a couple drags and popped it back in Bob’s mouth. He had been stunned as hell and Jay just carried on.
Jay had always been like that. Like anything that had to do with them was natural... predetermined or some shit.
Bob moved out at eighteen into this tiny studio apartment; his first night there Jay showed up, all his stuff crammed into two duffle bags, kicking at the door to be let in. He dropped his bags in the corner and never left.
A few months later they’d moved into place with an actual bedroom instead of an alcove off the main room. Jay had been in charge of buying them beds. The blond had come back with a receipt for a king size. They weren’t having sex then but to Jay there had been no question that they’d be sleeping together.
Bob looked around their latest place. Their likeness rights checks let them afford a building were the heat didn’t give out in the middle of winter, in a little better neighborhood. There were piles of comics cluttering the table, movies haphazardly shoved into a bookshelf and a stack of pizza boxes by the front door. It wasn’t most people’s idea of domestic, that’s what Bob called it though. If only in his head.
-END-
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