the room is quiet except for the faint hum of the lantern. the blankets are tangled around them like they’ve been fighting for warmth all evening. giyuu watches obanai shift, the shorter man curling slightly against his chest, fingers brushing over giyuu’s arm.

“you’re warm,” giyuu whispers. his voice is soft, almost scared to disturb the quiet. obanai hums in response, eyes half-lidded, already drifting toward sleep. he mutters something small, almost inaudible: “…mine.”

giyuu leans down, presses a soft kiss to obanai’s temple, tiptoe nearly, arms tightening around his shoulders. the snake shifts somewhere over their legs, forcing a tangle that somehow makes the two of them press closer. giyuu lets out a quiet breath, brushing a hand along obanai’s hair, memorizing the way it falls over his forehead.

obanai twitches slightly, murmuring against giyuu’s chest, “don’t leave me… i like this.”

giyuu swallows, heart thudding, leaning into the smaller man, whispering: “i’m not going anywhere… you’re mine too.”

the quiet stretches. obanai’s breathing slows, gentle and even. his grip loosens almost imperceptibly, the tension of the day melting away as he drifts fully into sleep. giyuu watches him, tracing a finger along a scar on his jawline, tiptoe lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss there.

his chest feels heavy with warmth, with relief, with love. he wants to whisper more, tell obanai everything he’s ever felt, but the rhythm of sleep is gentle now, delicate.

he shifts slightly, careful not to wake him, draping a blanket further over their shoulders, tucking kaburamaru closer so neither of them feels a chill. and he stays there, leaning, brushing hair, tiptoe kisses to the temple, watching the rise and fall of obanai’s chest, memorizing the scent, the warmth, the quiet, tiny “mine”s.

and maybe he whispers one more thing, soft, trembling: “so beautiful… so pretty… always mine…”

obanai murmurs something low, half asleep, maybe a smile in the shadows, and giyuu lets himself imagine saying it a hundred times over the years, just like this, just like tonight.

the lantern flickers. shadows stretch across the blankets. giyuu shifts closer, tiptoe kiss again. fingertips tracing, small whispers, tiny touches, all the soft chaos of married life he never wants to end.

…and then, slowly, quietly, the world narrows to warmth, breathing, and soft, endless “mine”s.