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"REMIND ME WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE DOING HERE, AGAIN?"
Firebrand snorts, indignified and almost affronted, "Oh, forgive me for wanting to pay you a visit, o' great HABIT. I must be making the absolute fuckall you're doing right now so much harder."
He isn't necessarily wrong. HABIT had spent the majority of the day sitting lazily on their living room couch, bored out of his mind and absent of anything to occupy himself with while Firebrand was busy. His position was a difficult one, true—maintaining the loop required frequent interventions and constant monitoring—and he'd spend days or even weeks at a time on the go, only dropping in for a few minutes at a time, or simply chatting mindlessly with HABIT over text. HABIT can usually keep himself sufficiently busy. There's plenty of bodies out there waiting to be torn into, plenty of people to maim and ruin. There's always the cats, and there's always dingy dive bars that he can throw fists in, but he's tired, today.
So, he just sat around and occupied himself with doing nothing in the house and waiting for Firebrand to get done fixing whatever nonsense his living self got into this time. Firebrand's hands remain curled over his broad shoulders from behind the couch, bent over so that their heads are side by side, expression curled into a wide, shit-eating grin that HABIT was so very familiar with.
"Also," He continues, "I live here!"
"DON'T FUCKIN’ REMIND ME," HABIT rolls his eyes, the irritation in his voice a mere façade: a game of I-hate-you pretend. Firebrand only laughs, "IT'S SO EASY TO FORGET WHEN YOU'RE ALWAYS FUCKIN' OFF, DOING GOD KNOWS WHAT."
"God does know, actually," He can hear the unrestrained smugness as Firebrand steps over the back of the couch, long, gangly legs settling crossed next to HABIT, "Since he's the one who's doing the going."
HABIT groans loudly, and Firebrand laughs again, ever amused by his perpetually annoyed companion. He flings those long legs over HABIT's own and saddles up next to him, absolutely towering over him when he sits up straight and taking a long moment to adjust until he's at a decent enough height to place his head on HABIT's shoulder.
"YOUR 'I'M GOD' JOKES ARE GONNA STOP BEING FUNNY ONE OF THESE DAYS," Despite his demeanor, HABIT slips a strong arm under Firebrand's back and throws the other over his thighs, holding him, a routine so familiar it may as well be second nature.
"Oh, yeah?" He challenges, "And what're you gonna do then? You gonna kill me, Habby? I think you're a few years too fuckin' late for that."
"IT'S WORTH A SHOT!" HABIT declares, and Firebrand whines.
"Nooooooo," His voice goes high and nasally, although it never sheds it's inhuman tone, "Nooo, don't kill meeee, I'm just a hapless little man-"
"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT," HABIT rolls his eyes, though his words ring with laughter and his chest rumbles in amusement. His mocking anger peels away slowly as he's overcome with fondness, chest warming, "SHUT THE FUCK UP. I WON'T KILL YOU. DAMN."
Firebrand is content. With a happy hum, he places a kiss against the side of HABIT's neck, "Thank you, liebling. You're very generous. What would you do without me, hm?"
HABIT pulls him up and up and readjusts him by tugging him this way and that, Firebrand simply going along with him until he's seated in his lap, legs on either side of HABIT's. His smile is wide and pleased when HABIT leans up and returns his provided kiss with one of his own, arms wound around Firebrand's waist while Firebrand's hands settle, one warmly on his shoulder and the other thread through his mane of hair.
"HERE'S TO HOPING I NEVER HAVE TO FIND OUT," HABIT pries away and grins, eyes regaining their familiar mischief now that he's done pretending to be in a bad mood, and Firebrand swears he falls in love all over again as he snickers and sweeps him up in another kiss.