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One lazy morning on winter break, Gordon wakes to sunlight streaming into his bedroom, warm and content.
He only even took this break because his entire friend group hounded him relentlessly until he conceded and stopped working for the length of it. He’s not too mad about it, considering how much he needed a break, and he certainly can’t complain about how he’s woken up – the room is cold, but he’s plenty warm beneath the weight of both his blanket and his boyfriend.
Benrey – the alien who crash-landed on his roof and who now lives with him – is splayed across him, completely under the blanket and face pressed into his abdomen. If not for the faint rise and fall of his chest – and the many times Benrey has shown that he doesn’t need to breathe – Gordon might start worrying. Benrey probably shouldn’t be able to breathe right now.
He lies there, warm and finally relaxed, after burning the candle at both ends for weeks. Between the cold winter, the wide campus, and the poor heating in both his apartment and his college, just the warmth itself is a luxury. Gordon hadn’t realized how much tension he’d built up until he finally had a chance to shed it.
Today though, there’s finally nothing he needs to be doing, and just… lets himself enjoy that, pondering on how much he’s needed this before drifting to other, simple thoughts, like the Minecraft world he’s working on with Benrey, or the weight of the alien themself laying on him, pleasantly warm, or whether or not he should have noodles for breakfast.
He’s drawn out of his thoughts, though, when Benrey cracks open an eye which looks right at him. (It’s neither under the blankets nor even slightly attached to Benrey, which Gordon already knew he could do but adds as another example for the “list of impossible things that Benrey can do,” as something that breaks both physics and euclidean geometry. It’s a list that started with “alien on my roof??” and has only gotten more absurd from there.)
“sup” Benrey mumbles, directly into Gordon’s belly. He would be more surprised by the clarity if he wasn’t already so used to it.
“Morning,” He says. “Have a good rest?”
Benrey grunts, mumbling a “warm.” which gets a laugh out of Gordon.
Gordon reaches under the blanket, finding Benrey’s hair, and starts running his fingers through it. A purr rumbles up which – fair, Gordon had long ago agreed that if he could choose to have the ability to purr, he would too.
He slowly gets lost in thought again, pondering deep mysteries like ‘when you lose a sock in the wash, where does it go?’ and ‘why is soda so tempting?’ coming up with deep answers, such as a commentary on the appeal of sugar, and strange textures, and also? He has no idea.
He’s drawn from these deep thoughts, however, when his stomach lets out a loud growl. He pulls the blanket off, ready to get out of bed, but Benrey looks up at him, (no longer hidden by the blankets and therefore once more following most known rules of reality,) pleading look on their face.
“cozy time? cozy time for benrey?”
Gordon pauses. Normally, he would say yes, but… “Dude. I need breakfast.”
Benrey nods. “yeah. so eat me.”
Gordon snorts. “I actually do need real food, no matter how filling you might be.”
A trail of sad-want sweet voice trickles out of Benrey’s mouth. “come oooon. get some uh. goop time with the cozy. s’ cool with me.”
Gordon bites his lip. On one hand, he does really need food. On the other hand, he does really like cozy time.
Also Benrey can and will out-stubborn him, if need be. That’s been true as long as Gordon’s known them.
He’s still not sure about this, but there wouldn’t actually be any harm in trying it, beyond some potential annoyance, and it is a pretty good morning for the aptly named ‘cozy time’…
He considers.
“Okay.” He says, holding out a hand.
“sweet.” Benrey says, as he puts a hand on Gordon’s and shrinks down in a smooth motion that ends with them standing on Gordon’s hand, barely over an inch tall. (That particular ability is one that he’s already documented many times. Benrey doesn’t care much for societal norms like ‘a consistent size, shape, or height.’)
He’s just about bouncing in place, and as Gordon brings them to his face, he has to smile a little in excitement too. There’s something always so comforting about having the other so close, and while today might end up being a little strange, it certainly won’t be bad.
Gordon gives him a soft kiss – at this point, a giant kiss is commonplace – and gently tips him in. Benrey wiggles around a moment to get all limbs in place – Gordon takes that moment to savor the feeling of having him so close – and once they still Gordon closes his mouth. Gordon can feel how limp and relaxed they are, perfectly happy and purring again as Gordon rolls him around, gently covering them in saliva for the trip down.
Once done, he stills and gives a soft hum as warning, then swallows.
The swallow is always a little weird – despite how long he’s done this, Gordon still hasn’t gotten used to swallowing something so big – but this particular time does stand out for how strongly Benrey is purring. After a few gulps, Benrey has reached his stomach, and Gordon sits there for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling of having Benrey so close. They’re still purring, and he can feel as he wastes no time in sinking into the closest fold of Gordon’s stomach, to allow for maximum cuddling.
“All settled?” He asks, fairly rhetorically, as he stands up. It’s pretty easy to tell from how relaxed Benrey is.
He lets out of short hum of pleasant-feeling sweet voice, one that Gordon gets as flavors on the back of his tongue, and he smiles as he makes his way to the kitchen.
When he gets there though, he pauses, thinking, then goes over to the table instead of just getting started on breakfast.
“Okay.” He says, sitting down and steepling his hands. “How are we going to do this?”
Benrey gives a hum and lets out a pleased string of sweet voice. Gordon nods.
“Good to know.” He says, lips twitching. “Not actually helpful.”
Benrey hums again. “mmmm. you could like. eat stuff. i’m cool with whatever.”
Gordon puts his head in his hands. “Yeah. I know. Um. I could list food items?”
A faint twinge from inside. “brooo. i don’t care. just eat something you want.”
“Uh. Okay.” A long pause. Benrey continues to not have an opinion. Gordon’s head slowly tilts further and further into his hands. “I don’t think I want anything too heavy? And like… Soup? Does soup sound okay?
Benrey moves around, in a motion that Gordon recognizes as petting. “sure. get a free bath, cool with me.”
He looks up again. “You’re sure? Like really sure?”
Another twinge from inside, except this one is both more forceful and able to be understood, in that it was a gentle wack on the inside of his stomach.
“yeess. now eat something.”
He nods again, standing up from the table. “Okay then. Soup time it is.”
Today’s recipe, he decides, will be pho. Or, well, his broke college-student approximation of pho, which only has the goals of ‘is cheap’ and ‘tastes good’ – goals which it manages to excel at. For all he loves cooking, attempts at being traditional went out the window around the time he resorted to eating spaghetti with ketchup.
He starts getting out ingredients, a gentle calm settling over the kitchen as he silently cooks, Benrey resting inside him. It is peaceful. They simply enjoy the peace of the morning and the comfort of the other’s presence.
Benrey will often sing in sweet voice. The meaning can vary, from something as simple as an acknowledgment that Benrey heard him to something complex and deep. Sweet voice doesn’t really correlate to English a lot of the time, but it is a language all the same, with all the complexities that come with. Each color can mean one thing by itself and something completely different with another, and pitch and tone can change the meaning wildly – to the point where, apparently, it’s not even considered the same ‘color.’
Gordon can’t really replicate any of that depth – he certainly can’t make floating balls of color, and even if he could that’s only a small part of what something means. Color isn’t always a perfect parallel to meaning, and without context it can genuinely be impossible to decipher some meanings – but he can still try and learn it, try to understand it.
There is one thing he can replicate, though, and that’s sound.
So as he works, he hums, a little, just a few notes. In English, it would be meaningless. In sweet voice, without another note or color, each note would still be meaningless. Even just without context, the potential meanings would be numerous.
But here, in this sun-drenched kitchen, with his dinged pots and his stained counters, with Benrey inside and content, and the two of them, together and happy – here, the meaning is clear.
Benrey joins in after only a moment, singing in time with him, and all that depth Gordon was missing is added back in, as flavors on the back of his tongue and, when he opens his mouth, as orbs of color that float out and last for just a moment before popping.
Gordon hums another string, and another, and soon the two of them are putting on a brilliant duet of sound and color, in a moment all to themselves.
He keeps working as he hums, cutting vegetables, making broth, moving items and finding ingredients, until Benrey sings a new string of sweet voice, out of the rhythm they had made.
Gordon opens his mouth to see the new harmony, a tri-colored string.
“Light purple, to green, to blue. Means I feel safe with you.”
He sets down his onion, placing a hand over Benrey. “I… I feel safe with you too Benrey.” He says. “I’m glad you feel the same.”
Benrey hums again, a string of happy-safe-feelgood. “yeah. you’re a. good to be around. gordon safeman.”
Gordon smiles. “You’re pretty safe yourself.” He says, and the two continue, talking and singing and contemplating, as the broth finishes and as Gordon boils noodles, as he carefully cuts pieces of this and that and as he arranges them on top, creating a decorative bowl that really does look as good as it tastes.
(Stretching his more artistic side for, really, just an audience of one. It’s not going to be very decorative by the time Benrey sees it. Gordon is decidedly not focusing on that.)
He carries it to the table, sitting down and taking a moment to breathe deeply, savoring the smell of the simple but delicious broth. His mouth starts to water just from the scent of it.
He’s certainly hungry, but there’s still the slightest hesitance.
Am I sure I want to do this? He asks himself. He thinks he does, but…
“You uh. Ready for this?”
“yeah. come on. gimme that Bath Time.”
“I – how did you even do that with your voice? And I’m almost certain this doesn’t count as a bath.”
“ble ble ble its bath now.”
Gordon laughs, the joke relieving the last of his tension. “Alright. ‘Bath’ time here we come.”
He doesn’t eat particularly quickly – even as Benrey continues to be fine with this, and as he gains more confidence, it is very good soup. He savors it.
Benrey also enjoys it as soup pours in, making a warm stomach even cozier.
Since he doesn’t need to breathe, he doesn’t need to stay above the soup-line, so he doesn’t have to rate any particular position by merits other than (a) how much of Gordon does it touch and (b) how warm is it.
Current position very good, 8/10. Has noodle bits. Fun to play with.
(He may also be sampling the random bits floating around, but what Gordon’s delicate sensibilities don’t know, Benrey won’t tell. He’s having fun.)
When Gordon finally finishes the bowl, he leans back, enjoying the feeling of having a belly full of both (boy)friend and food.
“I’m standing up.” He says, eventually. Benrey keeps purring. He takes this as permission to stand.
There isn’t anything he needs to do, so he picks his way around piles of research and text-books (he probably doesn’t need to pick those up?) and makes his way to the couch.
Sitting down, he puts a hand on his stomach and focuses on the feelings within. “You good?” He asks for about the thousandth time or so.
Benrey buries himself deeper into a fold. “yea man. snug as a bug in a… hug.”
There’s a hoodie piled up on the side of the seat, one which Gordon picks up so he can wear it. When he does so, however, an item falls out, and Gordon lets out a laugh when he sees what it is.
“what you laughing at bro.”
Gordon bites back a grin. “Why was your game console in my hoodie? Like, what series of events led up to this?”
“uuhhh sitting.”
He laughs again. “Okay, nevermind. I don’t want to know. Keep your secrets.”
Benrey cackles.
Hoodie finally acquired, Gordon pulls it on and curls up under a blanket, turning on the TV. Maybe he’ll watch a soap opera, or he’ll boot up the console and play Minecraft, or maybe he’ll do something else entirely. He has time.
He’s cozy here, almost surprisingly so, on this small couch in this tiny apartment, with his boyfriend curled up inside his guts, of all places. It’s not what he would have expected for himself, not anything near what he could have predicted if you’d asked him even a short year ago, but this is his, and he loves it, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.