I wrote this little drabble for my wonderful so @racetrrack because they really wanted some Cravey. I was happy to oblige <3
Davey woke up to a wall-shaking clap of thunder and a bone-crushing grip around his stomach.
“Crutchie? Are you ok?”
Crutchie looked up at Davey’s concerned face, eyes wide with fear.
“I just, uh, really… don’t like thunderstorms…” he whispered; Davey could barely hear him over the rain pounding on the roof.
“Crutch, you should have said something! Come ‘ere.” Davey pulled Crutchie close, pressing a light, sweet kiss to his lips and then his cheeks. A dopey grin spread across Crutchie’s face, but then there was another blinding flash of lightning followed by more deafening thunder, causing him to let out an alarmed squeak and bury his face into Davey’s neck. Davey stroked his hair and smiled softly to himself because, god, he just loves his boyfriend so much and how can he be that cute?
The thunder subsided and Crutchie poked his head up again to look at Davey. The storm wasn’t so scary when it felt like he was drowning in Davey’s gorgeous hazel eyes, which were somehow still shining even in the darkness.
“Dave, will you… read to me? Your voice always makes me feel better…”
“Of course, Crutch. Anything for you.”
Davey walked over to their bookshelf, shivering a little as his bare chest left the warmth of the blankets. Soon he was climbing back into bed, The Lord of the Rings and a reading light from the bedside table in his hands. He pulled the covers over their heads. The thick comforter muffled the sounds of the storm somewhat and Crutchie hummed happily as he snuggled up next to Davey.
Davey flipped to the beginning and began to read.
Crutchie wasn’t really listening to what Davey was reading because to be honest, he didn’t really care all that much about The Lord of the Rings. But he was perfectly content to listen to Davey’s soft, beautiful voice sculpting the words with such precision and care. Crutchie absolutely adored Davey’s voice. Well, he adored Davey in general, but his voice especially. There was a reason he was called “The Walking Mouth.” (Crutchie might also have some other, more private reasons why this nickname was accurate, but that’s another matter).
Time seemed to slow down as Davey’s voice reading page after page drowned out the storm and Crutchie’s eyes fluttered open and closed as he struggled to stay awake. He wanted to listen to Davey for just a little longer. Inevitably, though, Crutchie’s gentle snores caught Davey’s attention and he stopped reading to smile fondly down at him. He set the book on the bedside table and placed a kiss to Crutchie’s forehead. The storm kept on as Davey closed his eyes, Crutchie wrapped up next to him as he too drifted slowly off to sleep.
In the morning the sun was shining, and Davey laughed at Crutchie’s bedhead while they shared a piece of toast, hands and lips smudged with nutella. They just kissed it off.