HOME | DD

Description
You are curled into a ball in the corner of your couch, a shirt that is not your own enveloping your body. It smells faintly of rain and Old Spice, and ends well past your knee. Somehow... somehow it is managing to soothe the loneliness that had been aching your heart for the past two days, but only just barely. You sigh, your half-lidded eyes shifting wearily away from the colorful blur of images on the television screen to the outside world. The streets are dark, lit by the dim glow of the streetlights stationed at the corners and by the cars that drone by.

Suddenly your ears prick up at the sound of an approaching one, and eagerly you sit up, the sleeve of your shirt slipping, sliding off, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder. You wait for it to turn into your driveway and stop, for the key in the ignition to be turned and the engine cut off mid purr. You wait for the opening and closing of the driver's side door, for the sound of familiar footsteps approaching the front door. You wait for the momentary, routine shuffling as hands dig into pockets for keys, and the muffled curse that would follow afterwards as said keys are dropped, the metal making a jangling sound as they come into contact with the hard pavement.

You wait for the keys to be picked up, placed in the lock, and for the knob to be turned, the door opening then closing. You wait for a figure clad in an expensive suit imported directly from Italy to walk over to the couch and hover over you, a pair of hot lips descending upon yours hungrily. You wait for large hands, rough from labor, to caress your smooth skin before unceremoniously picking you up, cradling you to a strong, warm chest. You wait to be carried upstairs to your bedroom, to be thrown onto the bed as soon as you are close enough, to be roughly pinned as clothes are carelessly discarded onto the floor, skin sliding against skin, feverish grunts and cries that are barely suppressed echoing against the walls as you make love.

You wait with bated breath for all of these things, and yet nothing happens. The car goes on by, possibly turning a corner and driving onto the road that leads out of your neighborhood. You feel tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you are left with bitter disappointment, and you find yourself silently cursing the driver for giving you false hope, for not being him. Another sigh escapes from you, and impatiently you wipe away the budding tears, standing.

You walk upstairs and check on your two stepsons in their rooms, smiling with fondness as you find them sound asleep. Quietly you walk further into the room of the youngest and place a hand on his forehead, checking for any signs that the fever he had had earlier had returned. It hadn't. You place a kiss on top of his mass of black curls and exit, not bothering to shut the door. You then walk back into the room of the eldest and place a kiss on his forehead before heading back downstairs into the living room, assuming your previous position on the couch.

The show that you had been watching had ended, and now a documentary on the ocean was airing. You watched as sharks, stingrays, dolphins, whales, sea horses, and various schools of colorful fish swam across the screen, your eyes drooping as the monotonous voice of the speaker informed you of their diet and their role in the ecosystem.

At some point your exhaustion and the lateness of the night had caught up with you, pulling you under into the sea of your dreams. You do not wake up to the sound of the car approaching your house and turning into your driveway, nor do you wake up to the engine cut off mid purr and the opening and closing of the driver's side door. You do not wake up to the sound of a pair of familiar footsteps walk tiredly up to the front door, nor do you wake up to the muffled curse and jangle of keys as they are dropped. You do not wake up to the keys being picked up, placed in the lock, and the knob turned, the door opening and then closing.

It is not until a pair of warm lips descend with surprising gentleness upon yours that you do wake up, and it is not until a tongue invades your mouth that full clarity is bestowed upon you. He's home. He's home. You kiss back eagerly, whimpering softly as large, rough hands caress your smooth skin before picking you up, cradling you to a strong, warm chest. You run your hands through his black hair as he carries you upstairs to your shared bedroom, fingers curling around the graying streaks.

You are slightly disappointed that instead of being thrown onto the bed you are set down gently, and that once he carelessly discarded both of your clothes onto the floor he climbed into bed and curled against you. Disappointment aside, you smile and gently rub his back, pressing soft kisses to the scars on his face. "Dualscar" indeed. You snort and then giggle at the questioning look he gives you, nuzzling his cheek as a means of apology. Irritation soon forgotten, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your bodies flush against each other.

"Welcome home, Orphanos," you whisper into his ear, kissing the shell. "I love you."

"Mm...love you, too," he mumbles into your neck.

You smile and bury your face in his hair, your heart swelled with happiness. You listen to the sound of his steady breathing until you, too, fall asleep once more, content in the knowledge that he was finally home, in your arms.

Description
You are curled into a ball in the corner of your couch, a shirt that is not your own enveloping your body. It smells faintly of rain and Old Spice, and ends well past your knee. Somehow... somehow it is managing to soothe the loneliness that had been aching your heart for the past two days, but only just barely. You sigh, your half-lidded eyes shifting wearily away from the colorful blur of images on the television screen to the outside world. The streets are dark, lit by the dim glow of the streetlights stationed at the corners and by the cars that drone by.

Suddenly your ears prick up at the sound of an approaching one, and eagerly you sit up, the sleeve of your shirt slipping, sliding off, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder. You wait for it to turn into your driveway and stop, for the key in the ignition to be turned and the engine cut off mid purr. You wait for the opening and closing of the driver's side door, for the sound of familiar footsteps approaching the front door. You wait for the momentary, routine shuffling as hands dig into pockets for keys, and the muffled curse that would follow afterwards as said keys are dropped, the metal making a jangling sound as they come into contact with the hard pavement.

You wait for the keys to be picked up, placed in the lock, and for the knob to be turned, the door opening then closing. You wait for a figure clad in an expensive suit imported directly from Italy to walk over to the couch and hover over you, a pair of hot lips descending upon yours hungrily. You wait for large hands, rough from labor, to caress your smooth skin before unceremoniously picking you up, cradling you to a strong, warm chest. You wait to be carried upstairs to your bedroom, to be thrown onto the bed as soon as you are close enough, to be roughly pinned as clothes are carelessly discarded onto the floor, skin sliding against skin, feverish grunts and cries that are barely suppressed echoing against the walls as you make love.

You wait with bated breath for all of these things, and yet nothing happens. The car goes on by, possibly turning a corner and driving onto the road that leads out of your neighborhood. You feel tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you are left with bitter disappointment, and you find yourself silently cursing the driver for giving you false hope, for not being him. Another sigh escapes from you, and impatiently you wipe away the budding tears, standing.

You walk upstairs and check on your two stepsons in their rooms, smiling with fondness as you find them sound asleep. Quietly you walk further into the room of the youngest and place a hand on his forehead, checking for any signs that the fever he had had earlier had returned. It hadn't. You place a kiss on top of his mass of black curls and exit, not bothering to shut the door. You then walk back into the room of the eldest and place a kiss on his forehead before heading back downstairs into the living room, assuming your previous position on the couch.

The show that you had been watching had ended, and now a documentary on the ocean was airing. You watched as sharks, stingrays, dolphins, whales, sea horses, and various schools of colorful fish swam across the screen, your eyes drooping as the monotonous voice of the speaker informed you of their diet and their role in the ecosystem.

At some point your exhaustion and the lateness of the night had caught up with you, pulling you under into the sea of your dreams. You do not wake up to the sound of the car approaching your house and turning into your driveway, nor do you wake up to the engine cut off mid purr and the opening and closing of the driver's side door. You do not wake up to the sound of a pair of familiar footsteps walk tiredly up to the front door, nor do you wake up to the muffled curse and jangle of keys as they are dropped. You do not wake up to the keys being picked up, placed in the lock, and the knob turned, the door opening and then closing.

It is not until a pair of warm lips descend with surprising gentleness upon yours that you do wake up, and it is not until a tongue invades your mouth that full clarity is bestowed upon you. He's home. He's home. You kiss back eagerly, whimpering softly as large, rough hands caress your smooth skin before picking you up, cradling you to a strong, warm chest. You run your hands through his black hair as he carries you upstairs to your shared bedroom, fingers curling around the graying streaks.

You are slightly disappointed that instead of being thrown onto the bed you are set down gently, and that once he carelessly discarded both of your clothes onto the floor he climbed into bed and curled against you. Disappointment aside, you smile and gently rub his back, pressing soft kisses to the scars on his face. "Dualscar" indeed. You snort and then giggle at the questioning look he gives you, nuzzling his cheek as a means of apology. Irritation soon forgotten, he wraps his arms around you, pressing your bodies flush against each other.

"Welcome home, Orphanos," you whisper into his ear, kissing the shell. "I love you."

"Mm...love you, too," he mumbles into your neck.

You smile and bury your face in his hair, your heart swelled with happiness. You listen to the sound of his steady breathing until you, too, fall asleep once more, content in the knowledge that he was finally home, in your arms.