TW: Fluffy toes, and marsh mellows!

Title: ~Cold Toes and Marshmellows~

Boots crunched through the grass beneath his feet as chilly air crept beneath his collar and tickled his toes. He liked this time of year, he really did, when the last orange leaves drifted down from bare limbed trees and the frost coated the ground white and covered window panes with intricate patterns built with fine shards of ice. Every breath he let out clouded into a stream of mist that drifted and danced on the breeze before floating up and disappearing against the heavy grey skies. He liked this season, he really did, liked the festivities and the warmth of crackling fires, the laughter and the tingling burn of golden brandy as it slipped down his throat. He liked this season. What he didn’t like was working during it. It was all perfectly fine to curl up next to a roaring fire and watch the first flakes of snow fall silently like a blanket over the earth, but it was not so fun to have to trudge through it the next morning, lips blue and fingers numb against the bitter winds, flakes clinging to your eyelashes until you are almost blind. What was not fun was stepping into a freezing factory filled with cold air that would take forever to heat up, and have to crank up the protesting machines that spluttered into life with a wheeze. What really wasn’t fun was having to walk home after a ridiculously long day of working, cold nose buried deep inside the confines of his scarf in an attempt to keep warm, feet scuffing against the ground as he briskly charged home before it could get any darker. Which was where he found himself now. Xephos loved autumn, loved watching the changes as the life and colour if summer slowly seeped away into the icy grip of winter, loved watching the lush green hills fade out into a white so bleak and harshly pure you couldn’t tell where the sky ended and the land began. He loved all of this as long as he was warm and inside, away from the North winds and the falling snow.

But he wasn’t. He huffed a little and sped up, desperate to get inside and warm up, though it would surprise him if his toes had actually fallen off by now and were just rattling around inside his shoes. He focused on the lure of red wine, a good book and enough blankets to get lost in, but all his thoughts of happiness were swept away by another cruel gust of biting wind. This was ridiculous. He could have been home by now, warm and cosy, if Lalna hadn’t have insisted he was needed to watch another perfectly pointless experiment that was supposed to somehow increase Jaffa production. If only the stupid cakes weren’t so popular at this time of year maybe the factory could be shut and he could stay home, never have to brave the cold weather or have numb fingers or deal with Lalna’s crazy ideas.

At least he knew what to write on his Christmas wish list this year.

He rounded the last row of trees in the orchard and made a beeline straight for the door, boots crunching along the gravel path as he fished in his pocket for the keys. His fingers finally clasped around cool metal and he drew them up out of his pocket with a cheery jangle, triumphantly raising them up.

He dropped them.

He scrabbled around on the ground for a moment, cursing his numb fingers for a moment, before snatching the keys up again and jamming them into the lock on the door and twisting them violently. To his relief the door swung open and he hurried inside, slamming it shut behind him as delicious warm air rushed up to greet him like an old friend, curling around his cold fingers and chasing away the last remnants of the bitter wind outside. He stood for a moment in the foyer, eyes closed, as he felt the chill seep out of his cold bones, replaced with soothing warmth, eyes burning as any remainders of coldness faded into dim memories. Eventually the nerves returned to his fingers and he slipped off his jacket and scarf, hanging them up on the end of the banister and slipping off his boots and socks, leaving them in a pile to thaw out by the radiator, a small puddle of meltwater already forming around the soles. He wriggled his toes happily against the cooler marble before setting out into the house to find somewhere warm to curl up with a good book. He set up the stairs, peeling his shirt from his back as he padded across the carpet, sighing happily as the warm air tingled across his bare skin. He shivered slightly, heading along the corridor before slipping inside his bedroom. He paused for a moment, before padding across to the huge wardrobe and tugging it open. He rolled his eyes, pushing past the rows of coats before reaching back into the dark depth. A smile planted itself firmly on his lips as his fingers clasped around soft fabric. He checked over his shoulder before tugging it out, revealing his favourite grey sweater, thumbs rubbing over the thick soft fabric. He couldn’t resist burying his face in it for a moment, deeply inhaling the slight scent of soft leather and champagne hidden in the fibers before standing and tugging it over his head, the comfortable material clinging snugly to his skin. He snuggled inside of it, nose hidden inside the turtleneck, as he breathed in again, lips twitching into smile behind the fabric. It was good to be home.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around him as a low smooth chuckle reached his ears.

'I didn't realise you'd taken to wearing my clothes darling.' He rolled his eyes, pushing down the turtleneck collar before turning around, russet hair and a familiar smirk swimming into view.

'Well it isn't like you're going to wear it, not with all those ridiculous coats you have. Why else would it be buried right at the back of the wardrobe hm?' Soft lips pressed into his neck with endearing gentleness and he let his head fall forwards into the thick auburn waves in front of him.

'I suppose you're right dear … Besides, it looks good on you.' Familiar warm hands placed themselves on his hips, thumbs rubbing gently at the soft skin under the hem of the sweater. 'I missed you … You work far too hard.'

'Yes well, even I'd rather stay at home in this weather but unfortunately we both know the factory would fall apart if I didn't trudge down there everyday.' He caught Ridge's lips in apology, humming against them as his hands slipped inside his hair.  

'Nmm~ I know Xeph … Still … I miss you …' He couldn't help the chuckle that slipped over his lips, stepping back with a final parting peck.

'I missed you too … But I'm here now, so stop going soft on me …'

'I am not going soft! Now come on … I have a surprise for you …' He melted at the grin Ridge gave him, giving in with small smile of his own.

'A surprise? Ridge I'm not really in the mood fo-' He wa cut off as his hand was snatched up in Ridge's warm one and he was dragged out of the room, smooth chuckles ringing in his ears.

'Oh darling … Always expecting the worst from me … No the surprise is in the kitchen.’ The staircase swept by beneath him as he was towed along, towed along behind Ridge like the tail of a comet as it is flung across the stars. Rooms flew by until they eventually came to a halt in the kitchen. Ridge turned to him, excitement sparkling in his eyes as he gestured towards the small package placed on the table.

‘I know it’s not much but I was very proud of getting it for you, and I thought it fit very well with the season, and I know you have a sweet tooth even thought you try to hide it, and I really hope you like dar-’ He cut him off with a kiss and a roll of his eyes before padding over to the table and lifting up the brown paper bag. It was light, warm to the touch, and the faint smell of cinnamon and nutmeg rose up to meet him. He paused and frowned slightly before sliding the object out of the covering. A smile broke out over his lips, as he turned to face Ridge’s worried expression.

‘It’s pie. You bought me pie. I don’t really like pie.’ Emotions flickered over the strong features in front of him, almost too quick to pick out, a blur of feelings, hands held in front of him in a way that vaguely reminded Xeph of a scolded schoolchild.

‘It’s not just any old pie! It’s pumpkin pie, very important pumpkin pie because I made it. With some help of course, you know what I’m like in the kitchen. I mean usually I leave this sort of thing to you but I had some help and I thought it turned out good. I thought you might like it, so I brought it home. You don’t like it? B-But I thought we could snuggle up and try it. I mean obviously it looks perfect, but I don’t actually know what it tastes like and I want you to help me try i-’ He pressed his lips to Ridge’s firmly again, praying the pie wasn’t now a squashed mush on the front of hi- Ridge’s jumper.

‘You’re babbling Ridge. Now come and help me cut the pie, I’ll get some créme fraïche.’ Ridge nodded happily before pausing mid step and turning back to Xeph.

‘I thought you said you didn’t like pie?’ He laughed softly, pulling out a couple of tall mugs and the bowl of thick soured cream. Ridge was still frozen, staring at him with confusion etched into his face as Xeph closed the fridge door with a bump of his hip and a peck to Ridge’s cheek.

‘I did. I don’t like pie. I love it.’ He hummed softly as he handed Ridge the knife to cut the pie, watching as a pink tongue crept over over his lips in concentration. Xeph bit back his chuckle, placing down the mugs and cream before searching a few of the cupboards, retrieving the tiny marshmallows, vanilla extract and all important dark chocolate from the cupboards. He set about the kitchen as Ridge fluttered around him, adding and heating ingredients until he was done, their mugs brimming with dark liquid that enticed his nose with rich flavours.  He grabbed the whipped cream, building a mountain of white foam on top of each mug before covering them with with marshmallows and the last shavings of chocolate. He swatted playfully at Ridge, already drooling at the sight of them from over his shoulder before snatching up the mugs and heading out in the living room, with a head nod in the direction of the plates sitting atop the counter, large slices of pie and cream laying proudly on them.

‘Ridge, grab the pie darling.’ He padded through the door and down the corridor, a wall of warmth meeting his flushed cheeks as he stepped inside the large room. The fire was crackling tamely under the mantle, licking at the charred logs in its reach, and the sweet scent of apple wood drifted up to greet him. He smiled, shaking his head slightly as he set the mugs down on the little table and flopped back into the large sofa, curling up in amongst the blankets and cushions. Ridge really was incredibly thoughtful sometimes. He closed his eyes for a moment, caught up in the warmth and comfort of the room. he barely noticed the slight clinking of plates and the depression in the sofa that marked Ridge had arrived. Lips fluttered over his face and he opened his eyes slowly, a smile forming on his lips as blue orbs met golden ones. He returned the kisses gently for a moment, before shifting around and settling back into Ridge’s chest, snuggling into his warmth and smell. He lived for moments like these, in the peace and quiet, when everything just seemed so right. But it wouldn’t stay like this for long. Ridge wanted pie after all, and he once he had an idea in his mind there wa no stopping him. he sighed playfully and handed him a plate and fork, picking up his own and scooping a little into his mouth. Flavours exploded across his tongue, sweet and tart at the same time, all overlaid with the spice of the cinnamon. For a moment the only sound was their forks scraping against the plates as they enjoyed the pie, steam still rising off of the hot chocolate as they left it too cool.

‘That was amazing pie. Even if I do say so myself.’ He set his empty plate next to Ridge’s and picked up his mug, relaxing back into him as he raised it to his lips and sipped. Heaven. ‘Though the hot chocolate isn’t bad either.’

‘Oh really? Well I’m glad you think so. I must admit the pie was very good, especially for you Ridge.’ He craned back his head in time to catch the mock hurt expression on his face before pressing kisses underneath his jaw.

‘I know I’m bad at cooking Xepphie, but that was a little harsh.’ He looked down, eyes shining as he pressed their lips together again. This man. He would be the death of him. He could still taste the lingering traces of cinnamon and rich smooth chocolate as they kissed, everything autumny and wonderful and so very perfect.

‘Mmm~ You know I don’t mean it Ridge. I love you, terrible cooking and all.’

‘I love you too darling.’ He laid back, Ridge welcoming him into a cuddle, eyes drifting out to the impossibly clear night sky, and the countless shining pinpricks of light that looked down on them from their blanket of blue velvet. The edge of the windows were already clouding up with frost, but there, in Ridge’s arms next to the sputtering fire, everything was warm. His eyes drifted shut again, inviting him back into the soft darkness that shrouded his mind, calling him back into sleep. He let go, safe and happy, mind drifting back into the oblivion of sleep. He was home.