Flycatcher Downs if i ever leave, i could learn to miss you

spilling out all at once, alamar is oblivious for a heart beat. then the light switch is flicked on, the understanding comes, and the canine feels a prickle of unease creep from his toes.
he’s in a tug-o-war, smashing back and forth like a war of soccer moms. alamar glances to the side, gets to his feet and approaches. they’ve been close before, alamar held him blood-crusted and crying, tucked him close and groomed ever hair until the exhaustion wore jaime into an empty slumber.
are you cold? he jests, an excuse that he decides is worthy enough of why he has to be so near. he circles about, until he reclines with his back pressing against jaime’s. an uncommitted noise comes from the younger, almost a squeak, and they ease into silence until the rise and fall of jaime’s chest slows—asleep sooner that usual. eventually, alamar gets some rest too.