A/N: One of my favorites in terms of tone. I like how relaxing it came out.
Disclaimer: The characters and settings in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.
Birdsong woke Flynn out of a deep sleep, and he groaned a little as he clutched the single pillow tighter. For once, he didn't want to get up. Yuri's bed was tiny and familiar, timeworn and cozy. He knew the lumps in the mattress, knew every creak and pop and groan of the frame, knew the scent of the pillow and the sheets, and he breathed in deeply, at peace. He was alone in the bed, but he knew Yuri was nearby, could feel his presence in the room. Some days, Yuri felt like the charge in the air before a coming storm. That morning, he felt like sunlight.
Yawning, Flynn stretched a little and let wakefulness come slowly, a rare indulgence given his usual hectic mornings. He was currently on vacation, though he had no plans to leave the city. For the moment, he didn't even want to leave the bed.
He heard Yuri stir, heard the rustle of cloth and a greeting called up from below. It was more than enough to pinpoint Yuri's location even without opening his eyes to look. The little window seat overlooking the fountain had been his friend's favorite perch for as long as Flynn could remember. Yuri seemed fascinated by people. He could sit in that window for hours, just watching…
…but he hadn't done that for some time. So much had happened over a handful of short years and many, many things had changed. Even if Yuri had still been caught in the despondency that had gripped him after leaving the Knights, there was far too much to be done to allow him to sit idle and watch the world pass by. Through some miracle, they had both managed to claim a few precious days for themselves. Soon, Flynn would have to return to his duties and Yuri would go back to Dahngrest and his guild work. For the time being, however, they had a chance to stop and rest, to catch up, and to watch quietly as the world carried on without them.
Sleep was not going to be returning anytime soon, and Flynn reluctantly rolled onto his back, throwing an arm up over his eyes. He was still a little drowsy and far too content in the serenity of the moment to want it to end. It would be nice if Yuri would come back to bed and give him a reason to settle in for a little longer.
The minutes crawled by, punctuated by greetings, shouts, and laughter, barks and bird calls, and all manner of noise from the streets below as the city woke up. It was comfortably warm in the room, and a light breeze carried in the scent of freshly baked bread from one of the shops in the marketplace.
Slowly, he came to realize that Yuri was being abnormally quiet. He must have noticed that Flynn was awake, but he hadn't said anything, wasn't teasing him for his idleness or prodding him to get moving. It was strange enough to rouse his curiosity, and he sat up, opening his eyes to the morning.
Just as he'd expected, Yuri was sitting in his usual place on the windowsill. He had wrapped the sheet from the bed around himself, one bare leg protruding from beneath, and a pale shoulder rising from the sagging folds of cloth. His hair was inky black, stark against the white, and it hung loose and just a little mussed, framing the profile of his face.
White suited Yuri. Although he was neither innocent nor pure in the traditional senses of the words, there was something about those qualities that nevertheless shone through in him. That morning, bathed in soft sunlight, the white sheet hanging loosely off his frame, Flynn could see him clearly for everything he was. He was proud and principled, strong and beautiful, and everything Flynn had ever wanted. Lazing alone in bed no longer seemed nearly so important.
Flynn got to his feet and padded silently to Yuri's side. Like Yuri, his clothing still littered the floor, and he didn't have a stitch on him as he approached the window. His modesty was preserved behind Yuri's body and the drape of the sheet. Flynn pressed close, savoring the warmth that passed between them, so different from that of the sun that beamed down on them, lending shine to Yuri's hair and a sparkle to his dark eyes.
Leaning in, Flynn kissed him, soft and lingering. He felt Yuri's fingers as a light tickle against his cheek. They broke apart only when someone in the street whistled at their careless display. As Yuri waved, Flynn grinned sheepishly and buried his face in the crook of Yuri's neck. He wrapped Yuri in his arms and sighed happily as he greeted the morning.