Moss (Crossposted from AO3)

In Which Moomin and Snufkin Chat

He had slept hard . No dreams. A very pleasant change of pace.

He woke up in the nest of blankets with Moomin, who was still fast asleep. He found, however, that he wasn't as eager to get out of bed as usual. The outdoors would still be there later. He figured he may not miss very much at all if he slept in.

He had the nagging sense that he had planned to do something but couldn't place it, though. He tried to put the thought out of his mind. What a ridiculous idea anyway, he thought to himself. He almost never had to do anything if he could help it.

Ah, well.

Snufkin rolled over and curled up around the curve of Moomin's belly, deciding he might sneak in a little more rest. Moomin stirred a bit, and Snufkin could feel Moomin's paw tracing over his cheek. He opened his eyes.

"Morning," Moomin mumbled. Snufkin nuzzled him in the space under his snout, which prompted Moomin to place a gentle kiss on Snufkin's forehead. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, for once."

Silence fell again, but it was a deeply comfortable one. What an incredible difference it made to have slept properly for the first time in—he stumbled through the numbers—almost five months. He actually had it in him to feel content.

He felt Moomin's snout twitch, sniffing at the air.

"I think that's breakfast cooking."

Snufkin didn't speak at first, instead curling away in a stretch.

"Shall we, then?"

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Moominmamma had been able to make bread earlier that week and had bartered for eggs with a distant neighbor. Not that pancakes were ever unwanted , but after a month of them, toast and eggs had become an exciting change of pace.

Ordinarily, as much as Snufkin knew or cared, food was food. Moomins concerned themselves much more about the intricacies of that kind of thing than snufkins, he supposed. And yet, he found himself delighted by strong, hot coffee. Warm, runny egg yolks. Dense, yeasty bread...

And soft, gentle moomins, he thought to himself, hoping it didn't show in his face. One good night couldn't fix everything. But he was determined to be grateful for what was going well.

He nursed his coffee, watching the conversation go by. Roses were blooming and the leeks in the garden were progressing well. It's rained so much lately, isn't that concerning? Hardly. Wet weather never lasts that long. Oh, but do you remember that terrible heat wave ten years ago, Mamma, when the river dried up? And then it flooded again, and all was well.

Moominmamma made her way around the table, gathering empty plates as she and Pappa discussed the rhythms of the weather. As she added Snufkin's plate to the stack, she gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. No words, just a fleeting moment of affection.

But he wasn't accustomed to that from her. The only thing that had changed was the knowledge shared between them a week prior.

A week prior.

He supposed the reminder had to creep in somewhere. At least it had been a gentle one.

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Moomin began to suspect something about the way that Snufkin surveyed their surroundings as they worked their way up the hillside. Of course Moomin was, as a rule, very transparent about his emotions, but Snufkin let on a great deal more than he liked to believe he did. He had been anxious to get out of the house after breakfast and hadn't seemed to be able to get his hackles back down since.