On what once would have been a quiet Saturday morning, Crosshatch woke up to the sound of singing. Pulling himself from the bed, he followed the sound to their kitchen, where the impromptu concert was accompanied by the noises of bare feet on tile and a knife on a cutting board.
The singing quieted to humming when Cross chuckled, suddenly finding himself with his arms full of his lover.
“Good morning!” Rican pressed his face into the other’s chest, humming happily.
Cross chuckled again. “You are a precious cinnamon roll.”
“Nah, I’m an evil demon.” Rican grinned, arms wrapped around Cross’s waist.
“Well, whatever you are,” Cross hummed, pressing a kiss to the other’s cheek. “I love you anyway.”
Rican laughed lightly. “Love you, too.” Standing on his toes,