Work Text:
One of the most beautiful things that come from living with another person is discovering little habits about your partner that you'd never known before. Not all of them ended up pleasant, of course. But usually? Those little habits became part of what made someone more endearing in the eyes of their partner.
And in Aaron's case? The discovery that you sang constantly was one of those endearing little habits.
The first time he'd heard it was after coming home late from a long day at work, and instead of being greeted by his favorite little smartass welcoming him home, he was welcomed by the sound of off-key, boisterous singing along to Spice Girls, of all things.
He'd never heard you sing - after all, it's not like the office would encourage such things when you were meant to be busy working. That, plus the fact that the two of you weren't exactly on the best terms back then?
Yeah, he wasn't surprised he'd never heard you sing before.
But despite the unexpectedness of it and the...admittedly rough, pitchy notes, it wasn't aggravating. Instead, it was...well, it was cute.
And walking further in to see you using a wooden spoon as a microphone while you pointed dramatically at the stove, the last cry of "If you wanna be my lover!" ringing in the air?
Priceless.
"Nice performance. I think?" Aaron laughed, a teasing smirk playing on his lips when you yelped and spun around, spoon clutched to your chest. "The ending was nice, at least."
"When did you get there?" you demanded, flushed as you slapped the spoon to the counter and tried to hide your face.
"Now, I know listening isn't always your strong suit, but I could've sworn I just said the ending was nice," Aaron drawled, leaning against the counter and letting fond amusement soften his expression as he watched you. "That usually implies that I caught at least the ending."
"Oh, ha fucking ha, so funny." You shot back, pouting as you fought down the flush and tried to focus on the dinner simmering on the stove. "Who's the smartass now, huh?"
"Still you. Don't worry about that."
Aaron thought that the sputtering noise you'd made in response was completely worth the smack it got him later.
And the way you buried your face into his neck and groaned when he teased you about it later? Even better. However, it did result in a muttered promise about never singing in front of him again.
Yeah. Like he'd buy that.
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And he was right.
Not even a week later, he hears you again, this time in the shower with the faint sounds of Queen playing under the sound of water.
Now, Aaron was more than familiar with Bohemian Rhapsody. He doubted there was a person out there who didn't at least know memes about the song.
But he definitely hadn't ever heard someone so emphatically sing along to the operatic section, and the idea of you, of all people doing so, was somehow both the greatest and most hilarious thing he'd had in a while.
Work had been rough, and hilarity was something he never had enough of - so it wasn't a surprise that the easiest thing to do was sit next to the door and just listen while you finished the song.
He'd only planned on staying through Bohemian Rhapsody. Just a short break before he got to his desk and finished the work he'd had to bring home.
But the song changed as he was getting up, and suddenly familiar notes played by a soft guitar replaced the fast-paced track, and Aaron paused as you gasped in delight and then sang.
It wasn't the off-key, energetic caterwauling he'd heard before. Not the playfully excited cries of a well-known track.
It was a heartfelt croon, beautiful in how it mixed with the cover singer. A harmony he hadn't expected but was captivated by as he stood against the bathroom door and just listened.
He didn't even realize several minutes had passed until you trailed off a final note, humming in satisfaction as you shut the water off, and he had to scramble away from the door and towards his work desk, flustered in a way he rarely got lately.
Because holy shit, since when could you sing?
The door of the bathroom clicked open a moment later, followed by your yelp of surprise.
"Shit, Aaron, when'd you get home?" you groaned, collapsing against the door dramatically. "At least say something, ass!"
"It's not my fault you were wailing 'Bismillah' so loudly in the shower, even the neighbors could hear," he shot back, taking advantage of the familiar back-and-forth bantering with you to calm down a bit more before he turned to face you with a grin. "Nice low notes, by the way."
The look on your face at his audacity was all he needed to calm his heart and tuck that little secret of your actual singing ability away in the back of his mind.
Though, he could've done without the towel in the face in retaliation.
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After that, the singing just...became a part of your shared life.
Most days, Aaron would walk in to you and get an earful of you singing and dancing in the kitchen while you cooked or see you jamming out to a guitar solo as you cleaned on the weekends. Sometimes, when you were in quieter moods, he'd hear you humming when you read in the living room or stroked his hair while cuddling.
You tried to stay away from softer songs, from ballads and acoustic covers. Not obviously, of course. But Aaron wasn't blind, and it was easy to see that you only really listened and sang those songs when you thought he wasn't listening or sleeping.
And it was fine, at least, for now.
He knew it was probably because you were embarrassed, which is why he hadn't pushed. After all, you came to him more easily when he waited.
And one day, his waiting came to fruition.
It was one of the rare days that he was working from home, and you'd pouted the entire morning getting ready for your job while he lounged in the bed with a fondly taunting smirk. It'd taken a bit of playful jabbing at you - verbally and physically - for him to get you out the door, but eventually, Aaron had been left in the apartment by himself.
Work passed quickly - he'd been ahead of a lot of it lately, thanks to some very late nights - and eventually, he was left with an empty schedule and far too much time on his hands.
He tried filling it with chores - cleaning, prepping for dinner, doing some other miscellaneous tasks around the house - but eventually, even those were completed, and he was stumped on things to do.
It'd been so long since he'd had free time that...for once, he wasn't sure what to do with it. But eventually, he settled with reading a book in the living room and starting one of the playlists you kept queued on Spotify.
He didn't realize how much time had passed until he heard the jiggle of keys in the door. When the door opened, and he heard the familiar thuds of you kicking off your shoes and dropping your things, he didn't bother glancing up - he was mid-sentence anyway - and instead just called out a short 'welcome home' as he flipped a page, expecting you to just greet him in kind as you came in.
Instead, he got a melodic little hum that bled into a sweet, affectionate croon.
Immediately, his eyes snapped up towards you, wide with surprise, as he saw you leaning against the wall, smiling fondly at him as you continued singing.
Distantly, he realized you were singing along with whatever was playing on Spotify. Some sort of soft piano that fit the romantic, sweet lyrics that fell from your lips - So This is Love, his brain supplied valiantly, despite the lack of actual processing happening.
Because right now, all he could focus on was how your voice made him want to sweep you into his arms and just listen.
Something in his gaze must've expressed his desires because your smile widened before you pushed away from the wall, still singing softly. But instead of sliding into his lap and curling into him as you sang, you offered a hand and let your smile turn into something cheekily teasing.
The offer was clear. It was just a matter of accepting it.
…well. Fuck it. It wasn't the most embarrassing thing he'd ever done. And if it kept you singing?
The choice was too easy.
Slipping his bookmark in place is easy, and tossing the book onto the couch in favor of holding your hand even easier.
Your teasing grin softens again, and when you step back, tugging him along, Aaron goes with a soft smile of his own.
The living room is small – too small to really dance properly. But it was the perfect size to pull you close, hands shifting to hold your waist gently as your arms came up and around his shoulders, and the two of you swayed together.
The piano music in the background seemed to swell, growing louder in his ears – or maybe he was just focusing on it more, adding it as one of three things that had his attention in a snare.
You and your soft, affectionate gaze, the feeling of your arms on him and his hands on you, and the piano solo filling the living room.
If Aaron believed in magic, he'd almost call this a magic moment.
Then you sang again, and for a brief moment, Aaron did believe in magic.
Because how could you be anything other than magical as the light played across your face, highlighting the blush that dusted your cheeks and making your eyes shine with color?
Eventually, though, the song ends, and your voice trails off, and with it goes your face as you bury it into Aaron's neck with a shy smile.
"Come on now. You just gave me a whole solo concert and danced with me in the living room. It's a bit late for embarrassment, isn't it?" he chuckled. There's a muffled noise – a disagreement, he's sure – but you remain firmly pressed against him, refusing to budge. "Alright then. Go ahead and hide for a bit. Means you can't complain when I do this."
He could practically feel the confusion that must have painted your face, but it was too late. In a swift move, Aaron's hands tightened, and the next thing you know, you're being picked up. The sudden movement makes you squeak, and on instinct, your legs wrap around his waist, making it all too easy for Aaron to start walking to the bedroom, chuckling softly.
"If you're going to hide, then we may as well get comfy on the bed instead. At least then, we can call it cuddling instead of 'a smartass realizes they were adorable and decided they didn't want to be perceived because of it.'"
Immediately, you smack his back, making him snort as you pout against his neck.
"Asshole."
"Mm. Your asshole, though, smartass."
You refuse to admit how warm and soft that little proclamation made you. Not that it mattered, but you were sure Aaron could feel how your blush grew hotter on your cheeks with how close you were to him.
So instead, you huffed in mock annoyance and sagged against his hold.
"You're lucky I love you."
And you know, even without seeing, that Aaron's face has another soft, heart-meltingly affectionate smile on his face as he falls onto the bed with you tucked against him.
"Yeah. I am lucky. Lucky to be loved and love you back, smartass."