IAMP
Welcome Home
Another one inspired by a drawing Lomitzz drew.
IAMP
Welcome Home
Oliver fumbled, with his keys, for a moment, exhausted and looking forward to being on the other side of the door. He had spent the last seven days hopping around the continent, going from one meeting, to the next meeting, with dignitaries and ministers alike, changing time zones too frequently, and now, he wanted to be home.
The flight had been long, he hadn't been able to sleep much, despite how tired he was, and he had a pounding migraine. On top of that, he was also hungry and the thought of either preparing something, or ordering in and having to wait for the delivery, put him off from the thought of food.
He finally managed to get the door open and the first thing he noticed, other than the lights that were already on, was the smell of something baking. For a moment, he was convinced he was hallucinating, but then he heard the sound of the television, followed by a very distinct French curse.
Oliver's heart leapt, for a moment. He closed the door, behind him, and walked in. The television went off and a moment, or so later, he was greeted by his two cats and his lover. Schrodinger leapt at him and Oliver had to take a step back, under his weight. He scratched him behind his ears and his cat gave a content purr, before jumping on top of his suitcase.
Fred decided his leg would make a good place to hang on to and Oliver had to pry her off, gently, before she made holes in his pants. She mewled happily, in greeting, and Oliver let her rest on his shoulder, which only left him with one person to greet.
"I… hello." He finally settled for.
"Salut."/ "Hey." Jean told him, nonchalantly.
"How did you get in?" Jean took out the spare key he had given him, what felt like a lifetime ago. In actuality, it had been after the second week he had moved into this place.
"Comment fut ton voyage?"/ "How was your trip?" Oliver wanted to tell him it had been fine and that he could leave now, but something stopped him from doing so.
"Horrible. Absolutely horrible." Jean nodded and stepped towards the kitchen.
"Pourquoi tu m'en parles pas, pendant qu'on mange? Ch't'ai fait à souper. J'ai fait une quiche. Végétarienne, comme t'aimes."/ "Why don't you tell me about it, while we eat? I made you supper. I made a quiche. Vegetarian, like you enjoy." Oliver was surprised and followed him to the kitchen. He found it strange how his kitchen only ever looked, or felt, homey, when Jean was in it and when he cooked in it. He brought that certain extra element to it he could never manage to. Even before, in their old house…
Jean shooed Fred, from the chair and told Oliver to sit, while he retrieved the quiche, from the oven. He cut up two pieces and brought them back, to the table. Oliver thanked him and they ate, while he told him everything about his trip, Jean listening to every word.
Once they finished, Jean went to do the dishes, Fred following close behind, while Oliver took care of his suitcase, Schrodinger enjoying the brief reprieve, from the other two.
By the time his suitcase was empty, Jean was putting the last of the dishes away. Oliver stepped behind him and hugged him from behind, resting his chin on Jean's shoulder. He gave a small content sigh, kissing Jean's cheek.
"Thank you." He murmured. Jean gave him a sideways look and smiled softly.
"Ça m'fait plaisir."/ "My pleasure."
"If you want… you don't have to leave right away… you can stay a little longer." His cheeks coloured slightly and he hoped Jean wouldn't see.
"Ça m'dérangerais pas."/ "It wouldn't bother me." They headed to the living room, and Oliver curled up by Jean's side. The other man caressed his shoulder and played with his curls, slowly easing the horrible week, from his mind. When he fell asleep, sometime later, Jean easily carried him off to the bedroom and tucked him in. Oliver hugged the pillow close and mumbled something incomprehensible.
Jean debated long enough, whether to stay, and finally decided it would be nice to feel Oliver's smaller body pressed close to his. He lifted the covers and crawled into his usual place, moments before Oliver sought him, in his sleep, snuggling up to him. Schrodinger claimed the foot of the bed, by Oliver's side and Fred perched herself, somewhere close to Jean's head. For once, Jean didn't mind and simply held Oliver, closing his eyes and welcoming sleep, as well.
OWARI
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Started writing: October 6th 2013, 8:02pm
Finished writing: October 6th 2013, 8:37pm
Started typing: December 18th 2013, 11:11am
Finished typing: December 18th 2013, 11:30am