Jacob has exactly two moods about rain: Love and Fuck Off.
In Oklahoma, on an oil rig, rain means mud. It means vehicles getting stuck and flash flood warnings and even twisters if the weather's right for it. It means work that runs slower and harder and sometimes gets stopped entirely, depending on what equipment they're working with. It means having to try and wile the night away cooped up because going out becomes such a goddamn chore that it isn't worth it.
But it also means having an excuse to curl up in his house with his books and not leave for hours. It means laughing and teasing and roughhousing with friends when they finally get to the bar looking like half-drowned alley cats to join the ones that were lucky to avoid the downpour. It means being able to shut away the world for a while and let it all just fall away. It means getting up and smelling that fresh, clean scent of the earth. It means having an excuse for lazy nights and even lazier mornings afterwards.
Unbeknownst to the historian, Ezekiel swings pretty hard between moods about rain as well.
He loves it because rain can make for an easier getaway. Rain means that nobody is looking too closely at anyone else since they're too busy trying to get out of the rain and cold. It means that nobody really expects him anywhere for a while. It means that he can slip away and be free for hours and hours if he wants to be since nobody will bother come looking for him.
But he also hates it sometimes. Hates it with a burning passion because rain can mean ruined clothes. When he was younger, ruined clothes were nothing to laugh about since he might not have any others. It meant that he might get shoved aside into the mud because people aren't paying attention to just one lonely kid on the street when they're too busy trying to get inside. It also meant the possibility of getting sick, the most dangerous thing that might happen when there's nobody around to care or bother taking him to a doctor. It meant being cold and soaked and uncomfortable.
And as soon as Ezekiel wakes up to the white noise sound of rain outside, he knows that today is a Bad Day for rain.
Wiping the sleep-grit from his eyes with the heel of one hand, he sits up and looks out the window. He's not sure what time it is exactly without looking at his mobile or the clock, and there's no way to tell by looking at the sun since its currently buried far behind a thick overcast of clouds. The entire sky is the colour of a migraine. Still, he doesn't think that it's anything close to morning. He hears the roll of thunder like a far-off war coming closer, promising a real downpour later, and rain drums against the glass and ceiling, making those peculiar patterns of shadow and false-light.
The warm body next to him shifts and rolls over, and Ezekiel looks down at Jacob with mild apprehension. The historian loves doing things on his days off. With a lifetime of wanting bottled up in him, he relishes being let off his leash and being free to do whatever he wants just because he can. And he loves bringing Ezekiel with him on his adventures, too, and since he's never had someone that actually wants to spend time with him, Ezekiel nearly always agrees to go with. But he wouldn't go now, and he isn't sure how he would explain to Jacob his hot/cold feelings about the rain or how this is a bad day for it.
Jacob sits up, sleep-flushed and sporting hedgehog hair, and something in Ezekiel's chest almost aches at how adorable he is, how much he loves this man. He stares out the window for a moment, dark blue eyes squinting a little.
Thunder rolls much closer now, making the glass shiver lightly in the frames; Ezekiel hides a wince.
"Fuck it," Jacob says succinctly. He lays back down and reaches behind him, patting at Ezekiel until the younger man gets the point and lays down too, pressing himself up against Jacob's back, resting his cheek against the back of one muscular shoulder. Once they're comfortable again, the blankets get pulled back up nearly to their chins, efficiently cocooning them in fluffy warmth. "What d'you think, Jonesy?" Jacob asks drowsily, lacing his fingers with Ezekiel's. "We'll take a shower in a while, I'll make some of them potato wedges you like so much, we can watch some movies."
Ezekiel relaxes at the sound of that, curling up a little closer. "You want to stay in today?" he asks.
"Like hell I'm goin' out in that," Jacob replies. "Ain't a good day for me an' rain. I'm stayin' right here where it is warm and dry, thank you very much."
He grins victoriously, even though there hadn't been a fight in the first place, and he buries his face against Jacob's neck, inhaling the warm, musky scent of him. "Well, in that case, I have only one amendment to those plans of yours," he murmurs.
"Mm?"
"Instead of staying in here, can we go make a pillow fort on the sectional?"
He feels more than he hears Jacob's low rumble of laughter. "Yeah, sure, darlin', we can do that. What d'you wanna watch? Feels like a good day for musicals."
"Rocky Horror?" Ezekiel asks hopefully; listening the cowboy's commentary is almost as good as the film itself. Especially if he gets it in him to sing along.
Another laugh, and Jacob reaches back to ruffle Ezekiel's hair, scratching blunt nails lightly against his scalp. "Yes, you weirdo." He yawns and stretches his entire body like a cat might, spine bowing, arms and legs straining, before relaxing back down into the sheets. "Well, since we're awake, wanna get that shower out of the way now?"
Oh, hell yes. Warm blankets and cozy sheets are a wonderful thing, but they've got absolutely nothing on a hot shower shared with a hot cowboy. "Top shelf idea, love." He plants a kiss on Jacob's stubbled cheek and slithers out from underneath the coverlet. The abrupt temperature change sends a chill across his skin, but he ignores it happily as he skips to the bathroom, switching on the taps and waiting for it to get hot. Jacob gets up a little slower than he does, with more grumbling at the world in general like he does every morning.
When he hears the soft sounds of clothes hitting the floor behind him, he tests the water's temperature then steps under the hot spray, and Jacob steps in behind him and slides the door shut, closing the steam in with them. As he scrubs shampoo into his hair, he starts humming the tune to "Time Warp," and the historian laughs, flicking water at Ezekiel's face.
Outside, the rain falls over Portland.