There's something deeply satisfying and appealing about the sight of his Hathaway sprawled on the covers of their bed. Lewis smiles, nudging him away to make space.
"I wish I could bottle this feeling up." James sighs.
"Why so?" Lewis reaches over, tugging a bony ankle into his hands to caress and worship.
James smiles. Slow and soft. Turning his face to him, he blinks and levels Lewis with an unguarded fondness that he hardly ever sees outside those early morning moments still caught between their dreams and waking light.
"This feeling. Of being here with you." James pulls his leg away, sitting up to slide a warm palm to Lewis' cheek. "It's home. You are home."
Lewis leans into the touch. "Daft sod."
"Yeah." James agrees sweetly with a deep purr, "But your daft sod."
"That you are."