In every single home magazine ever when there was an image of a bedroom it was a lovely sort of thing wasn't it? A slew of large fluffy pillows that cascaded half way down the bed. They always matched perfectly with the plump comforter draped across a large mattress that looked as inviting as it did comfortable. And down at the end set a nice blanket for extra warmth or just keeping your feet toasty. He was never really sure.

Anyway they didn't look anything like his bed.

His bed was a flat little mattress that had the fitted sheet on it, most of the time, there were probably as many pillows of various shapes and sizes but none of them were fluffy. There were pancake like things that wandered wherever they pleased on the bed. And none of them matched, not even to each other, and they certainly didn't have a nice fluffy matching comforter. In fact there wasn't a comforter at all. Instead there were just a lot of blankets.

This time of year they were mostly all knit, with a few fleece mixed in, they all were different colours and ages. Some were bright and new as though they were just knit the other day and others were frayed, with holes, and faded with age. They were strewn all over the bed, just layers upon layers of blankets.

It certainly wouldn't be making the front page of country home that was for sure. But the only thing that truly mattered was the fact that it was comfortable and it certainly was that. It might not be picture perfect but when Gabriel crawled into his bed at the end of an extremely long day and flung all of those blankets over his weary body, with all their perfect warmth and smells, he knew that he was finally truly comfortable and while those magazines showed what comfort probably should be he knew what comfort for him actually was.

ooc; i realised afterwards that those are sweaters but i am pretending they are blankets I DO WHAT I WANT.