Work Text:
In the silver moon-bright stillness of a winter forest, there's a thin trail of woodsmoke. At its source is a cabin, windows aglow with fire-light, snow piled high on the sides.
In the cabin, two men are resting on a couch. The first is laying down, head in the lap of the second, comfortably slouched and with legs stretched out on a footrest. In the fireplace in front of the couch, a fire burns brightly, occasionally popping and hissing.
The man laying down is lightly dozing, his partner lightly carding his hair with his fingers and reading quietly from an old science-fiction novel.
When the chapter is done, the reader will reach over and turn off the dimmed lamp illuminating his book. He'll tuck the blankets in tighter around him and his lover, and doze off himself.
In the morning, the pair will make pancakes and top them with chocolate chips and fresh syrup. They'll sip homemade hot cocoa, dark and rich and with a hint of peppermint. They'll laugh at the fox kits playing outside in the fresh snow.
In one small cabin, somewhere in a winter forest, everything is right with the world.