armanya

Title: Cuddle Weather
Part: 1/1
Author: Nikki (

vagarical )
Fandom: Hanson
Genre: Hancest
Pairing: Zaylor
POV: Zac
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Urm, fluff?
Word Count: 960
Summary: Autumn rain is the perfect excuse to snuggle up together...
Author's Note: Very short, very pointless, very fuffy attempt to cure my writer's block.

Cuddle weather. That's what Taylor dubbed it one day, when we were still in our teens and he was trying to cheer me up because heavy October rain had thwarted our family's plans to go the fair. He then promptly proceeded to get me to help him build a little hideouts out of our pillows, comforters, and random toys that were fit to serve as support for the structure. We lay in our makeshift tent together for hours; pressed close, whispering, giggling, touching... kissing. Right up until our mother came to tell us that dinner was ready, chiding us for the mess we'd made as our cheeks flushed and our hearts beat faster at the thought that we almost got caught.

As I let my gaze follow the tracks of the rain drops sliding down my window, I can't help but think that even though it has only been a few short years since that day, it feels like a lifetime ago. Everything was so easy back then. All it took to escape the world and have a few hours to ourselves was to build a simple hideout, or a fort, and we could hide away. Sure, we'd get interrupted, by our siblings, by a parent, by friends calling at the door; but we would always hear them coming and have enough time to untangle ourselves from each other and make it look like we were simply two young brothers sharing secrets. And noone ever suspected anything, because we had always been close, and there was nothing out of the ordinary about us barricading ourselves off from the rest of our siblings. We didn't even realize how easy we had it back then. I'd give anything to have those days back.

I shiver involuntary as a slight gust of wind filters in through the hotel window. It's not really enough to actually make me cold, but with my eyes riveted on the wet city below me, on the people scurrying along like drenched rodents, I can't help but feel a slight chill. Yes, it's definitely cuddle weather. But Taylor is in the next room, most likely asleep because it's more than an hour until we actually have to get up. And my wife, who should have been the one I thought of first when I wanted to cuddle, I realize with a slight tinge of guilt, is hundreds of miles away. And even if she was here, it's not like she knows about cuddle weather anyway. No, that's one of those little things that only me and Tay know about. Though I doubt that he even remembers it at this stage. It's been a long time since w had the leisure to cuddle up under the covers and escape the world for half a day just because it was raining.

There is a light knock on my door, and I sigh as I move away from the window to face whoever it is outside. I brighten up even before I open the door though, because I realize that the only person who knocks like that, just loudly enough for me to hear but quiet enough that it wouldn't wake me up if I was asleep, is Taylor. And I'm right, it is him, clutching two pillows in his arms.

"Hi..." he smiles sheepishly, "Did I wake you?"

"Nope." I open the door wider and step aside to let him in. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither, it was cold in my room."

"Oh."

I close the door as he waddles into the room and plops first the pillows, then himself onto the foot of my bed. Then we just look at each other awkwardly for a while, tension building in the air. It's always like this now, has been since he moved away from home. As if there is some sort of superficial chasm between us, a little charade that lets us pretend that we are trying to fight how we feel, that we feel at least a tiny bit of regret for what we do. We both know it's a lie though. The awkwardness isn't real. Sometimes there is a trace of guilt afterwards, but never regret. Still, we keep up the act time after time, clinging to it as if it's our last shred of sanity.

"Cuddle weather..." he mumbles, mostly to himself, his eyes fixed on the window now. Then he turns back around, his eyes meeting mine again. "Do you remember?"

I nod, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, smiling, suddenly inexplicably giddy because he remembered too. "I was just thinking about that," I admit, feeling a bit silly at my own excitement.

"Really?" His eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face, and I don't even feel half as stupid anymore because he is obviously just as happy at our shared memory as I am. "Weeelll... we have an hour or so. Wanna take advantage?"

I don't answer verbally. I just nod, smiling, and creep into bed next to him. The bed is large enough for both of us to have more than enough room, but we still squish together in the middle, as if there is an imaginary hideout draped over us. We don't whisper. We don't giggle. We just lie, gazes locked, fingers gently mapping each other’s bodies, lips meeting gently now and then. Each touch, each sigh, each soft gasp committing themselves to the memories that help carry us through all the long days when we cannot be each other’s.

Yes, it's a cruel world out there. But the heavy autumn rain is still a perfect excuse to seek refuge in each other and escape it all, at least for a little while. And moments like this make everything else just that bit easier to bear.