Falling into Sentimentality… (Mason Autumn Special)

 Writing Prompts 

- The smell of chocolate

- A fallen tree

- The taste of smoke

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Autumn. 

It’s such a vibrant, rich time of year considering everything is dying.

Mason blows out a ring of smoke, tasting the lingering bitterness of it on his tongue. The puff curls into the air, framing a crippled leaf hanging painfully from an outstretched branch, like a finger clinging to it.

The leaf falls.

“What are you doing out here?” 

Mason turns to look over his shoulder before settling back down on the fallen tree branch he’s using as a bench. “Watching.”

The Detective shuffles forward, their feet crunching over the carpet of other discarded leaves, and comes to settle on the seat beside him.

His gaze shifts in their direction without meaning too. The warm scent of them is comforting for a moment, until a strong sweetness invades his senses.

He grimaces. “Hot chocolate? Really?”

“Hey,” the Detective says in defense, raising the offending mug of milky chocolate. “It’s autumn. It’s traditional.”

“Tradition. Ugh…” Mason groans.

“Is there anything that makes you happy?” they ask with a sigh. 

Mason watches as the Detective wraps their chill fingers around the mug and enjoys the warmth seeping out of it. Then he very much begins to wish they’d wrap their hands around something of his instead…

The thought leads him to his answer. 

He gives a long smirk—

“Nope.” They hold up a straight finger in protest. “You’re not allowed to say anything that Nat would reprimand you for.”

Mason arches a brow. “That’s pretty much everything that comes out of my mouth.”

“Then you’ll just have to think harder,” the Detective replies with a smile.

He stares out over the sepia-toned clearing. Sucking in a long breath, the earthy scent of autumn fills his lungs, and the chill but fresh taste clears the bitter smoke from his lips.

“Being here,” he says finally. His grey eyes shift once more to find the Detective’s. “Being here with you.”

Their smile beams brighter before they hide it behind their mug. “Jeez, you are sentimental.”

A deep chuckle escapes him. “You bring out the worst in me.”

They place a hand on his, the touch soft and unexpected but certainly not unwelcome. “I never said it was a bad thing.”

And Mason’s smirk softens into a smile as the Detective sips on their hot chocolate, and he continues to enjoy the intense joy a quiet place and a welcome presence can bring.