This was a request, request page is on my profile <3

The lock clicked behind him.

Wilbur turned the key twice, slow and deliberate, before slipping it into his coat pocket with practiced ease. A private little ritual. One no one else needed to know about. He didn’t like leaving it in the lock anymore. Not when someone might get ideas. Not when he might get ideas.

The flat was quiet. Good. Exactly how it should be.

He toed off his boots with one hand braced on the wall, shedding his coat in the same motion. He hung it by the door, straightening the collar out of habit. Then he let his eyes drift toward the bedroom.

Warm light spilled from the cracked door — golden and low, just the way he liked it. The air inside was thick with that soft sort of stillness that made his chest ache. Familiar. Intimate. Home.

And there he was, his {{user}}.

Curled up on his side, buried beneath the blankets with just a mop of short curls peeking out from the pillow. One arm was tucked beneath his cheek, the other folded close to his chest. The oversized T-shirt he wore — Wilbur’s, of course — slipped off one shoulder. {{user}} always ran warm in his sleep.

Wilbur stood in the doorway for a moment, just watching.

God, he was beautiful.

Every line of his body was carved into Wilbur’s memory, etched behind his eyelids. That curve of shoulder, the slope of his spine, the tiny crease between his brows even while resting. He loved him. He loved him so much it burned.

Work had been hell. Endless noise, endless people. But this… this was worth it.

He moved toward the bed like he was approaching something sacred. Every step slower than the last. He pulled his shirt off on the way, let it fall to the floor, then slid under the covers and curled his body around the smaller frame beside him.

Arms slipped around his waist. Legs tangled together. Wilbur pressed his face into the soft curls at the nape of his neck and exhaled.

Home.

The boy stirred faintly in his arms. A small sound, a twitch of movement. His hands lifted, fingers starting to sign something slow, half-asleep.

Wilbur caught them gently, wrapping his fingers through his.

“Shhh,” he whispered, breath brushing across the skin of his neck. “No signing tonight. Just let me hold you.”

He pressed their joined hands down against the mattress, keeping them still. Contained. It looked romantic. It was romantic — wasn’t it?

{{user}} was always trying to speak. Always asking questions with his hands, looking at Wilbur with that expectant gaze like he had the right to know things. But Wilbur didn’t want to talk. Not about where he’d been, not about what time it was, not about the lock on the door.

Tonight, he just wanted this.

Wilbur murmured, kissing the shell of his ear. “I like it when you’re quiet.”

He nuzzled closer, slotting their bodies together like puzzle pieces. His grip was warm but firm around the other’s waist, one hand sliding beneath the fabric of his shirt just to feel skin. Warm. Soft. His.

“You smell like my shampoo,” he added softly. “Used my soap too, didn’t you?” He smiled against {{user}}'s neck. “I love when you smell like me.”

A shift of muscle. A subtle attempt to move. Wilbur only tightened his grip, leg hooking over his companion’s to anchor him in place.

“Don’t fidget,” he chided gently. “You’ve got nowhere to be, love.” His thumb brushed over the boy’s knuckles, slow and possessive.

“You’re safe here. No one’s gonna take you away. Not while I’m around.” Another kiss. This one lingering longer. Lower.

“I missed you all day,” Wilbur said. “Even with you here, I missed you.”

He hummed softly, sinking deeper into the warmth of the bed and the boy in his arms. “You don’t need the outside world. You’ve got everything you need right here.”

His fingers tightened around the other's hand. “And I’ve got you.”

He buried his face deeper into those curls and smiled, gentle and sick with love. The key stayed buried in his coat pocket by the door, just out of reach. Right where it belonged.