Work Text:
He smiles at you in his green down jacket. This time there is no crowd to ooh and ahh over this precious moment when your arms and his fit into the curves of your torsos, heart to heart, rib to rib, like the carved pieces of a scattered jigsaw becoming whole. Sun-touched cheeks, laughter crinkled eyes. Retirement suits him well. A familiar longing tugs like gravity.
"Otsukare, Yuzu." His whiskered mustache tickles your ear. Something old, something new.
"Te eché de menos, Javi," you reply to his delight. Mask clenched in hand, you lean in, your feet lighter than air.