[SE] i've been an angel all year

RONIN

Ronin's lips part to object, only for him to realise that his husband is absolutely right - likely both about Vi's stance on things and the Knight's - and his cheeks flush pink accordingly. "Well," he huffs, taking a rather large gulp of his drink to avoid the okay you win fine that threatens to otherwise spill from his lips.

Setting the glass down, he instead swoops in to press a kiss to Remi's temple as if to change the subject thankyouverymuch, and proceeds to gather up their strewn decorations as if to wipe the haughtiness from his husband's expression. "I can finish up here if you like," he tells him, the smile audible in his voice. "You know, if there are other things you'd rather be doing."

You know, like mulling more wine, or napping.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

wild in the silence; no way to make it right

I'd like the dance.

Gasping as if startled by the sudden lips against his temple, the Bastion reaches out to snag his arms around Ronin's waist and draw him near. "I think what you meant to say, was that was a wonderful story and that I am 100% right." He suggests in a singsong voice before releasing the Knight.

"What, like kissing old widows beneath the mistletoe?" Raising his eyebrows thoughtfully as if imagining doing just that, the Bastion shrugs. "I was actually thinking of trying my hand at some knitting. The weavers make it look awfully simple, and though I am sure it isn't, I feel as though I have subtly been banned from helping to decorate."

Filling up his wine glass properly, Remi pauses as he heads out toward their little porch. "You know, in the spirit of truth-telling, if you ever did miss sleeping with women, or anyone other than me, you could tell me, you know." Keeping his voice soft enough to impart the genuineness of the offer while not wanting to turn the moment into something unnecessarily serious, the Bastion sipped thoughtfully at his wine. "Just so you know."

THE BASTION

i’ve been chasin the storm of a lovesick lonely lie

RONIN

Grumbling affectionately as he's drawn back against his husband that Remi might drive his point home, Ronin cups his husband's cheek in his hand and offers him a warm smile (that might, as they have recently discussed, have been a well-intentioned lie). "That was a wonderful story," he murmurs, "and you, dear husband, are 100% right."

Snorting and beginning to set up the rest of their decorations - an obnoxious snowflake hanging in a window here, a wreath for their door there - Ronin raises his eyebrows at the Bastion's suggestion. "Knitting? Some people say it is quite relaxing... or are you trying to make yourself seem like an old widow worth kissing?" He laughs. "Also, you subtly banned yourself from decorating by staring at the decorations instead of hanging them."

Having wrangled the wreath just-so on their door, Ronin turns as Remi speaks again, glancing over his shoulder at the Bastion and raising an eyebrow. "Oh. I know," he says easily, and this time his smile is easy in its sincerity. "If I ever feel that way, you will be the first and only person I tell." The implication being, of course, that he absolutely does not miss sleeping with anyone other than Remi.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

wild in the silence; no way to make it right

"Mmmmhmmm." Whether or not the sound admits the possibility that he was being blatantly lied to, Remi will never tell, though through the golden strand of emotions tethering the pair together, it didn't seem as though the Bastion was particularly bothered either way.

"Maybe a little from column A and a little from column B. Why, was the woman you imagined when I was telling you the story knitting?" Bobbing his eyebrows, now it's Remi's turn to laugh before softly crinkling his nose. "I only looked at them, because no doubt had I hung any, you would have waited for me to leave before arranging them where you wanted them in the first place. I was merely saving you the trouble."

Wondering if he could use his claws as knitting needles and if he had the sort of sandpaper required to file them into points, Remi pauses. Glancing over his shoulder, his cheeks rosy and dimpled from the wine as much as from affection, he nods. "Good. Now, I'm off to knit you something slutty. No peaking." This seemed to be the easiest way to start knitting: something slutty meant not a lot of fabric, and therefore, not a lot of stitches.

Genius.

~FIN

THE BASTION

i’ve been chasin the storm of a lovesick lonely lie