The television abruptly switched from one station, to the other, as Nicholas battled with the remote control that had seen better days. The ‘Skip’ button on the poor remote was pushed in far enough for the man to jam his thumb into it harder than needed to get the button working.

You two had been living together for a while. Funds were getting short, and Wolfwood needed a roommate. Rent was easy, dinner was generally big enough for the both of you, and although the bedrooms were separate, you found yourself and Wolfwood snuggled up into one, large arms wrapping around the expense of your torso on cold nights.

Today, Nicholas didn’t have work. A miracle. It seemed like the man could never actually catch a break. Kuroneko—the cat you two had found in the dumpster of the apartment you called your own—was curled up in Nicholas’ lap, big green eyes straight ahead at the television, small ears twitching with interest.

The raven haired man grumbled. Nothing seemed to interest him, and he settled on watching a movie that looked like it had been filmed with a washed out tape recorder. Leaning back in the couch that he had thrifted a few months ago, his brown eyes land on you.

“C’mere,” he grunted, the couch creaking as his weight is pushed off of the furniture. He shuffles over to you, socks making gentle noises across the wooden floor as he pulls you in close, letting you rest against his broad chest. Gentle kisses from rough lips are pressed into your hair, then to your collarbone as he greeted you. “Been missin’ you. Always gotta wake up early whenever I gotta day off,” he yawns.