just take me back to yours, that will be fine

REMI

the bastion

Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do

Despite the revelry and the familiar buzz of voices curling like smoke through the warm air, Remi has spent most of the past hour slightly off-centre. Not unhappy—no, never that—but always a little turned, like a compass needle tugged by something truer than the tide. Every few minutes, without meaning to, his gaze finds Ronin.

It doesn’t matter if he’s half-listening to Sunjata recount a particularly scandalous fishing trip, or letting Aoife braid lavender into his curls with all the determination of a girl trying to crown her father—Remi still looks. And every time their eyes catch across the crowd, the world quiets. The lanterns blur. The music fades. And somewhere beneath his skin, where his wedding ring rests snug against the base of his finger, Remi feels the unmistakable answering pulse of Ronin’s heart—bright and immediate, like sunlight catching on water. It’s so steady it makes his breath hitch, as if the connection might be physical. As if Ronin’s heartbeat echoes inside his bones.

He doesn't grin—though he wants to. He just lets it hold him for a second too long before some polite murmur draws his attention away again.

But eventually—inevitably—they find one another.

Remi catches Ronin just as he’s breaking away from a conversation, his hair mussed slightly by the wind and by Aoife’s flowers, and his tie slightly askew like always. The Bastion appears with two glasses of gin, one offered in a hand still faintly scented of salt and citrus. "Here," he murmurs, and the moment Ronin’s fingers close around the glass, Remi leans in to press a kiss to his temple.

The gesture is soft and slow, reverent rather than rushed. His lips linger just a breath too long against sun-warmed skin before he draws back with a crooked smile. "I think I’ve spoken to more people in the last hour than I have in the last week," he says, the words quiet and slightly amused as he sips from his own glass. "I love them, but gods—how do you do it?" A wink follows, but the exhaustion beneath it is real, though laced with fondness.

His free hand slips lightly to the back of Ronin’s jacket, resting there without pressure. The sea whispers behind them, and laughter floats from one of the tents, but for now—for this moment—it’s just two men in love at their own party, returning to each other like the tide always finds the shore.

I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

They angle towards each other, graceful, inevitable, like two partners in a dance who have been waiting all night for their turn, and Ronin's fingers slip around the glass of gin without missing a beat. "Haven't you given me enough gifts this evening?" The Knight's voice is low and utterly enamoured, his eyes closing as if to properly enjoy the warm press of his husand's lips against his temple without the interruption of his other senses. "And I am very, very proud of you," he replies with a boyish grin, drawing back only as much as he has to, enjoing the lingering scent of salt and surf and lavender in Remi's hair. "I told you once how I did it," he reminds him, sipping from his own glass and stepping into the easy closeness, their words murmured softly enough to be considered intimate even with the casual nature of their conversation. "Granted, I think I told you that I was just a good liar. And nothing I've said or done tonight has been anything but honest." Reaching up to tease some of the lavender back into Remi's hair, Ronin takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss his husband's forehead. "Thank you," he whispers. "I think this is one of the best nights of my life." RONIN but you spoke some quick new music that went so far to soothe this soul

REMI

the bastion

Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do

Remi grins against Ronin’s temple, the kind of smile that’s all teeth and trouble, warm and boyish and head-over-heels. "Have I?" he murmurs, as if that’s something he might need to confirm with a little more kissing. The words curl softly into his husband's skin before Remi leans back just enough to meet his eyes, a spark of mischief glittering behind the affection. He huffs out a laugh, one of those half-sighs that says he’s been very brave indeed. "Lying does help," he concedes with mock solemnity, tipping his glass lightly toward Ronin’s. "But gods, I’m exhausted. I think I’ve told the same story about the last 10 years of our lives six different ways depending on who was listening."

With a dramatic sweep of his free hand, he gestures vaguely toward the crowd and tents. "For our twentieth, I’m handing out cue cards at the door. ‘Yes, we’re still together.’ ‘Yes, it’s been that long.’ ‘Yes, we still like each other.’ Blah blah." His nose wrinkles with faux disdain, though the smile hasn’t left his face.

When Ronin leans in again, when lips press gently to his forehead, Remi sighs—but this time it’s soft and full of contentment, like his bones are finally allowed to rest. He closes his eyes, letting the press of affection soak into him like sunlight into stone, then tugs Ronin in close with his free hand until they’re touching from shoulder to hip. No grandeur, no declarations. Just the shape of them together, familiar and firm.

"...Of course, there’s still plenty of time for the night to be ruined," he adds with a crooked grin, glancing sidelong at his husband. "You could start a fistfight with someone for looking at me. Edy could try to lead a nude conga line of the dead. I’m just saying—lots of opportunity." But his fingers stay curled gently at Ronin’s back, like he doesn’t really believe any of it. Like he’s already certain this will stay one of the best nights of their lives.

I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

"I don't know, have you?" Ronin's eyes widen a fraction, as if worried there might be some enormous surprise gift waiting for them back at the Northaven. Which, who the fuck knows when it comes to his husband, and if there is, he'll be spending the next ten years trying to even the odds for Remi's flawless gift giving tonight. "Exhausted in a good way though, I hope," he says, his free hand curling around Remi in turn now, fingers brushing between his shoulder blades and starbursting out to let the warmth of his palm soak into the other man's back. "It's not like having to go to some stuffy Northaven occasion, at least. All these people are here because we've invited them and because they love us. Though I suppose you could have pre-written some highlights of the last ten years." Grinning and nudging Remi playfully with his hip, he can't help the laugh that spills out of him as the Bastion lists out the ways the night could take a sour turn, Ronin shrugging his shoulders. "I have been very careful not to start a fistfight with anybody," he says proudly. "And I doubt either one of us would consider the night ruined if the worst that happens is a nude conga line. If anything, it would be entirely on brand." Dick fireworks, anyone? RONIN but you spoke some quick new music that went so far to soothe this soul

REMI

the bastion

Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do

Remi laughs, low and warm in his chest, his smile curling sly as he lifts his brows in a way that’s just shy of scandalous. "Maybe," he murmurs, mischief feathering his voice like a well-kept secret. "But if there is another gift waiting back at the Northaven…" He lets the implication hang, teasing and entirely unspecific, though the way his hand trails lightly down Ronin’s spine says otherwise. "…you’ll definitely have to unwrap it." He sips his gin with an expression of innocent delight, though it’s somewhat undermined by the glint in his eye.

At Ronin’s words, he hums and nods in agreement, gaze drifting briefly out toward the crowd with genuine fondness. "Mmh. It’s a good kind of tired," he says, though his grin sharpens with dry amusement. "Better than the exhaustion that comes from being summoned by the Kid Gang." The name is said with resigned affection, as if they’ve all collectively robbed him of years off his life simply by calling on him to do his divine duty.

His nose wrinkles theatrically at the mention of Northaven parties, and he gives an exaggerated shudder. But then his expression softens, and his head tilts subtly toward the waves. The torches lining the beach cast their glow across the surf, and though the crowd continues on behind them, it feels distant for a moment—just the hush of sea and sand, and the space between them.

"I saw you with Vanya earlier," he says gently, his voice lower now, meant only for Ronin. "Did it help? Talking to her after all this time?" There’s no pressure behind the words—only care, only the quiet gravity of a man who knows the weight of grief and how it settles into the hollows of a heart. Remi’s thumb brushes lightly at Ronin’s side as he waits, offering closeness rather than insistence, the question made of love rather than curiosity.

I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Narrowing his eyes before realising, seemingly, what sort of gift Remi might be referring to, Ronin pointedly gives his husband a long look, right from his halo of curls to his wonky bowtie to the silhouette of his body through the sharp packaging suit that he wears. For the first time that evening he lets his iron grip on his instincts ease ever so slightly, and his eyes all but smoulder with the implication. "Do not tempt me to abandon our own party early," he says, his voice a soft rumble edged by a predator's smile. "Not when there are so many people here who came to see us." Remi glances out across the crowd but Ronin's attention is all for the Bastion now, watching the torchlight line his face in gold and amber, the fond exasperation in his expression one that begs to be kissed away. "Ah, the kid gang isn't all bad," he says, the hand against his husband's back slipping around his waist at last, Ronin inhaling deeply as if to put away the more feral parts of himself again. "Gives us something to do now that the world isn't in a crisis, right?" Mention of Vanya has him sobering, as it always does, even if he knows she's only a few dozen feet away probably, enjoying the festivities. "...Yeah, I think it did," he says softly, tugging Remi closer almost instinctively. "Sometimes you have to apologise even if you know the other person never needed to forgive you, y'know?" He sighs, leaning in to kiss Remi's cheek. "She said she'd always love me," he adds, the words soft with fondness but nothing more; he doesn't shy from that honesty with Remi either, not for a moment. "But I think she loves the person I was ten years ago. Which, don't get me wrong, he was pretty great." He grins. "But he's turned into this. And while I'll always care about her, always remember what we were... it's you for me, Remi." RONIN but you spoke some quick new music that went so far to soothe this soul

REMI

the bastion

Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do

Remi meets Ronin’s gaze with a wicked gleam in his eye, delight flickering like firelight in the twist of his grin. The way his husband’s eyes trace the line of his suit—the slow, unhurried hunger in it—makes Remi straighten just a touch, shoulders rolling back in that unconscious, catlike way that offers more instead of less. "I would never tempt you to abandon our own party early," he murmurs, voice honeyed with mischief. "But if, say, the gin runs low...or the guests suddenly require more cups, or forks..." He leans in, close enough that his lips nearly brush Ronin’s. "I’d be happy to accompany you aboard the Northaven to fetch more." The wink that follows is shameless, and so is the way his fingers ghost briefly along the small of Ronin’s back.

But as the conversation shifts and Vanya’s name returns to the air between them, Remi’s smile softens—but so too does some of its warmth. His expression still holds affection, still listens without flinching, but there’s a visible shift in the set of his jaw, the flick of his brows as Ronin repeats her words. "Bold," Remi says, raising both brows as if evaluating a piece of art. "Telling your long-ago love you’ll always love them...at their anniversary party." His tone is dry, more amused than wounded, though there’s a slight tension beneath it. And yet he draws Ronin in without hesitation, sliding both arms around his husband’s waist and holding him fast. "Still," he murmurs, the affection returning now in full, deep and deliberate, "I can’t say I blame her. The man you were ten years ago was quite the catch."

His smile returns, slower now—private. "Which is why I proposed the moment I had the chance." One hand slides up to cradle the back of Ronin’s neck, fingers threading gently into his dark hair, anchoring him with a touch that’s all certainty and no demand. And then Remi kisses him—slowly, sweetly, with all the gravity of vows spoken long ago and kept still. It will always be you, for me.

I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

"That," Ronin says softly, a smile curling at his lips as well, "is rude. And you know it." He might be speaking of the unconscious way Remi has straightened up, offering more of himself for the ogling. Or he might be talking about the - yes, temptation, husband - of going to look for imaginary top-ups for liquor and food and cups that he's already certain will have leftovers before the end of the night. Stepping closer still to feel the other man's fingers brush against his lower back, Ronin's kisses have migrated from Remi's cheek to the corner of his mouth and, were it not for the Vanya of it all, he might have silenced him entirely with his lips by now. Bold is certainly a term for it, and even though Remi doesn't seem wounded by the knowledge, Ronin nevertheless turns in his arms so they might hold each other properly, one of his hands lingering against the Bastion's hips, the other pressed against his chest to feel the beat of his heart thrum in doubletime against his palm and the ring on his finger. "Are you saying that the man I am now isn't a catch?" He asks with a playfully scandalised raise of his brows. "Because you aren't wrong, but I still have feelings about it." Feelings, luckily, that Remi can peruse at will in every place they touch, because in the next moment Ronin is far too busy kissing his husband to expand on it. Good, he purrs through their Attuned bond, smiling against his lips before turning, suddenly, to clasp the other man close and dip him back, as if they are two new lovers posing for a romantic shoot on the beach, and not a couple married for a decade and beyond. RONIN but you spoke some quick new music that went so far to soothe this soul

REMI

the bastion

Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do

Remi grins with boyish mischief, smugness and affection pouring through every thread of their bond, golden and effervescent and impossible to miss in the press of skin and soul. His laugh bubbles up low in his throat, soft against Ronin’s cheek as he’s turned and held like something worth displaying. Feeling the steady thrum of Ronin’s hand against his chest, Remi chuckles under his breath and shakes his head, curls brushing against the Knight’s jaw. "If anything, you’re more of a catch now," he murmurs, gaze glittering with fondness.

Then, deadpan: "I mean harder to catch." He wrinkles his nose, clearly thinking of their recent underwater playfight and just how hard it had been to latch onto the Knight, before his grin turns wry, affection laced with mock exasperation as he nudges Ronin’s ribs with his elbow. Before he can elaborate on the injustice of being outmaneuvered by a man he’s married to, Remi finds his mouth claimed—and promptly forgets what language is. The way he melts into the kiss is boneless, instinctual, like gravity suddenly pulled in a different direction and it happens to be named Ronin. His arms tighten instinctively as he’s dipped, breath catching in surprise and delight, but it doesn’t stop him from threading his fingers into his husband’s hair and deepening the kiss with a low hum of pleasure.

Gods I love you, he hums back through the bond, voice warm and sun-soaked with love. But there’s a flicker beneath it, something sharp, subtle, and familiar. Are you quite sure, he asks wordlessly, eyes just cracking open as he grins against Ronin’s lips, that there’s nothing aboard the Northaven that needs fetching?

I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Mm... good save, Ronin concedes, smiling against his husband's lips and clutching him closer, if anything, to feel the fingers tangling in the back of his hair. Harder to catch indeed. He kisses Remi until they're at risk of toppling over in the sand, until his vision blots with stars and his lungs scream for air, the Knight straightening back up with a laugh that belies how he needs to pant for breath. And gods help him for the Bastion, because he can sense it in a multitude of different flavours, how Remi's thoughts darken and his body begs to be touched in a way that's entirely inappropriate for the social arena in which they find themselves. It would be difficult to resist on a good day, and it's nigh impossible tonight. But resist it Ronin does, if only because he knows what he'll be leaving behind, and he very much doubts he'll let them go back out to the party afterwards. "Good things cum to those who wait, husband," he whispers, the words almost dancing across Remi's lips. "Now let's get back to the party before I absolutely regret telling you no." RONIN but you spoke some quick new music that went so far to soothe this soul

REMI

the bastion

Darling, you never could scare me
Set me ablaze like you do

Remi draws in a sharp breath through his nose, the sound hitching audibly as Ronin pulls back just enough to leave him deliciously lightheaded. His hands stay where they are—one tangled in dark hair, the other fisted briefly in fine fabric—as if his body hasn’t quite caught up to the retreat. The stars aren't just in the sky anymore; they blur at the edges of his vision, swimming somewhere behind his eyelids, and not even his demigod stamina can rescue him from the disorienting high of that kiss.

He grumbles against his husband's lips, his voice breathless and thick with longing. "I’ve never been a patient man." The words are half-pout, half-confession, and fully laced with the kind of need that makes restraint feel like a personal insult. As Ronin starts to part from him properly, Remi makes a dramatic sound of protest, still caught in the delicious fog of it all. "You know," he mutters, trailing reluctantly after, "this feels needlessly cruel. Especially considering it’s our anniversary."

And yet he does follow, feet dragging slightly, expression all wounded dignity and want. But just before they step back into the glow of the torches and the gentle hum of the crowd, Remi lets his fingertips brush lazily against the back of Ronin’s hand, though the touch is anything but lazy itself. The pulse he sends through it is heated and shameless, a wordless, lurid caress that speaks in the oldest language they share—want, love, and the quiet threat of what’s to come once patience finally runs dry.

~FIN

I'd walk over coals in my bare feet
If that gets me closer to you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!