Comforters and the Cold
When Gilbert woke up, something was wrong, terribly wrong. He kept swaying in and out of sleep and it wasn't until he realized he had been staring at the old water stain on the ceiling did he sit up. It was too early to be awake - this was part of what was wrong with the picture. He didn't even need to look at a clock - he could feel it.
He did so anyways, and 9:23 was, like, two whole hours away from what he was used to. Normally he was a pretty decent sleeper, not too light, but not too heavy. If a burglar bust in, he'd be there, but he also didn't wake up to every little noise the apartment made. Like their neighbors. What in God's name they had those bike horns for, Gilbert could only guess. His best one was some sort of musical group, though Roderich wasn't fond of that theory.
His foot felt like a block of ice. Even with their heavy down comforter, Gilbert could feel the chill in the air. It had probably snowed the night before. But that didn't explain why it felt like the air around a window. They had a pretty decent heating system.
Gathering the comforter around him, with its little black on red design, Gilbert wandered out of the bedroom. He should have grabbed socks.
"Roddy!" Gilbert whined before he even saw him. "Why does it feel like Russia in here?"
The other man was stirring a cup of coffee, based on the smell, standing behind the kitchen counter. "Because our utility bill was ridiculous last month," Roderich replied. When he looked up, his expression sort of dropped. "It's not that cold."
Gilbert stared at him from beneath the folds of comforter wrapped all around him. Really? he hoped his expression said. "Put your cup down."
"Why?" Roderich asked, sort of drawing the question out, suspicious. He set the mug down, in any case.
That's when Gilbert ran at him - around the counter and back again when Roderich tried to make a run for it - and tackled him to the floor.
"Gilbert, we are adults!" Roderich's voice was muffled from either the floor, the blanket, or both. "Get off!"
Gilbert pulled the comforter up and over, blocking out the light from the windows, the light from the kitchen. "I don't wanna," he muttered, but dropped off to the side so he could curl closer to him. He was really warm.
He could feel Roderich shift, turn towards him. The coffee-scented sigh he let out hit Gilbert's face. "I can't believe you just did that."
Gilbert grinned. "Really? After all this time?"
Another sigh. "You know, we're just on the floor. Under a comforter. Does that not strike you as odd?" he asked.
"Not when it's with you," Gilbert replied, coating his voice in as much sugar as possible.
"Oh my God," Roderich muttered, but Gilbert would bet real money that his cheeks were turning red. He didn't really want to face the cold to see if they did, though.
Gilbert wrapped his arms around him, trying to get impossibly close. Yes, this was much better. Warmer, for sure. He didn't like waking up alone.