nothin' bougie 'bout you cozy as a hand me down

get my car door, isn't that sweet? then pull me to the backseat

As the memory plays out around them, Flora feels it all over again through the bond, not as something polished smooth by hindsight, but exactly as it had been: that golden spike of adrenaline, sharp as sunlight on glass, the certainty that kissing Kaisel was both the best and worst thing she could possibly do, and the helpless, breathless knowledge that she was going to do it anyway. There had been no clever little exit from the moment, no joke sharp enough to cut her free, no version of herself willing to pull back when he was there beneath the moonlight, almost asleep, asking forever from her in a voice that made her heart feel like it had been placed carefully in his hands without her permission.

When the echo of him rolls above her in the memory, his body fitting against hers with that aching familiarity, Flora’s breath catches softly in the present. The flush returns in a shimmer through the bond, warmth blooming low and bright alongside the memory of safety, of love, of something new that somehow had felt old already, like a piece of jewellery worn for years such that it had learned the shape of her skin. Want had been there, absolutely, impossible not to feel with him pressed close and sleep-warm and hers in every way that didn’t yet have a name, but beneath it had been something gentler and more dangerous, something like finding a door in a house she’d lived in all her life and realizing it had always opened toward him.

The illusion freezes when Flora glances at Kaisel, the moonlit figures on the bed held mid-breath, mid-touch, mid-becoming, while she laughs softly under her breath and shakes her head. "I think we both almost ruined it," she says, knowingly, because gods, hadn’t they? Him with Caly, she with Jack, the both of them trying to keep impossible feelings tidy enough to survive. Her smile softens as he buries his face in his hands, and she watches him with easy affection.

"I sort of thought that..." Flora’s voice quiets, her fingers finding his sleeve as if she needs some small piece of him beneath her hand while she says it. "I’d always just love you from a distance. Like a little piece of me would always be yours, and a bit of you would always be mine, and we'd smile at each other a little knowingly sometimes, but..." With a private smile, she shakes her head, her aqua eyes lifting to his with something quietly imploring and devastatingly fond. "I never could quite let you go after that night."

As he scoots closer and crushes her into the sideways hug, Flora leans into him immediately, letting herself be squished against his side while the frozen memory glows around them like moonlight caught in amber. At his question, she smiles and shakes her head, nose wrinkling a little with affectionate apology. "No," she says, her voice warm with amusement as she tucks herself more comfortably against him. "Telepathy isn’t a part of the magic." Yet. "Tell me?"

no one's ever had me, not like you

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

See I'm never gonna quit, got my legacy set in motion

It's understandable how people believe in something like fate, although he never really has. A sense of destiny and the pulling of strings by forces too complex and massive to even fathom are easier comforts to bear than the random possibility of everything. Because what if he hadn't gone to her that night? With Noe in barely manageable pieces after being cured and Koa fragmenting beside her, staying there with them would have made sense. The night had already worn into late, the day taxing after the brush with violence, and yet he couldn't have slept if he'd tried without seeing her first. That alone could be likened to a divine hand tugging him to her, because otherwise did it truly come down to a moment, so easily altered with just a small choice? From that one, the impossible branching strands of all the choices thereafter that had to happen, only one path sure to lead him exactly here. If he'd let Bassian scare him off, or declined the offer to stay, or if she'd never kissed him. What would they be, then?

Her assessment of ruin isn't one he can fully agree with. Not when she'd been the one brave enough to try. She'd let him glimpse some vulnerability and he'd urged her to cover it back up like it was a secret he shouldn't have seen. Jack only posed a risk when Kaisel hadn't been willing to take one. Fortunately, they didn't succumb entirely to his fuck ups, but he can still groan about them, and does so now.

The small clasp of his sleeve that she tugs to keep herself firmly with him serves a purpose similar to being pinched when clarifying dreaming and waking. It pulls him from the past to the present, to the reality of her warmth and the quiet words she exchanges like pawn shop goods—small parcels of meaningful pieces that aren't valued high enough by most for what they're truly worth. He does though, value them. Because even if they're married now and more surefooted than ever before, it's never easy to strip yourself down to just the secret ingredients, to the little truths and wants that compromise more of your soul than you ever want to notice, much less let anyone else. "You do have incredible grip strength," he concludes with a small smile, the bond shivering with the more honest feeling of relief. It's as rich and warmed as gourmet hot cocoa, stirring through him with a cozy quality as he peeks over at her. Held impossibly perfect in the adoring cradle of her gaze, he can't imagine now how he would have managed a life different than this, and he's relieved he doesn't have to. "And I'm glad for it." If it had just been the little piece of her, he would have been glad for at least that, too. Though it would have been like a rock in his shoe, impossible to ignore despite the small size, and whatever distance they kept, she would have been there still with every step.

A small laugh puffs out into the wrinkle his lean sets into her shirt. "It was rhetorical," he hums, amusement a welcome crack against the swelling affection for her that threatens to thicken his throat otherwise. Inhaling, the scent of the room from that night drawn in with all its lilac and salt, he tells her now what he should have told her then. "I thought, let me keep her." His voice keeps the sort of quiet that's only meant for two people, too delicate to bear too much notice otherwise. "Because in that moment, I knew I wanted you by my side for the rest of my life. Not just for kissing, but for everything life would throw at us. It's always been you for me." That night had been the first time it felt possible, everything else before just imagined. The reality that he let the morning strip it away is one he'll never not regret, and he'd spend every morning he could with her now lazy and tangled, unwilling to give it up ever again.

Kaisel

I've only just begun, I won't stop until it's done

get my car door, isn't that sweet? then pull me to the backseat

Flora chuckles under her breath, the sound small and warm as a golden beam of sunlight sparkles through her thoughts, and she leans a little more heavily into him with a shrug that pretends to be casual despite the way his words have settled beneath her ribs. "Mmmm, grip strength is directly correlated to running, you know," she agrees, because it’s easier to polish the feeling into humour than admit how close she’d come to not holding on at all, how narrow the path had been between them then, how one wrong step or one badly timed wound might have sent them drifting back into the familiar shape of almost.

When he tells her what he’d thought, though, the teasing softens. The old flush of heat still lingering from the memory, from having watched the beginning of the night that had changed everything, lifts through her in a different way now, warming her from the inside out. Not with arousal but with a deep, boundless affection that somehow keeps finding new room to grow even when Flora would swear there’s no space left inside her for more. She feels almost girlish with it, flushed and stupidly bright and twitterpated in a way that makes her want to hide her face against his shoulder and stare at him forever at the same time, the sweetness of what he’s said striking somewhere tender enough that for a second all she can do is digest the force of it by leaning harder against him.

"Being with you that night felt..." Flora begins, then trails off with a small, helpless laugh, her brows lifting because every possible word seems either too small or too dramatic, and the problem is that both would be true. "I dunno. I thought maybe it would be awkward, or over too quick, or something that was satisfying but not.." She lets the sentence fade, her smile going soft and private, because what it had been was monumental, literally life-changing for both of them, and somehow she hadn’t expected it at all while also not being surprised by it when it happened, as if some secret part of her had simply nodded and said, yes, obviously, this was where the tide had been going all along.

Swallowing, Flora turns her head back toward the memory, and the scene moves with her, skipping forward past the hallway, past the shower, past the breathless, tangled heat of everything they’d finally stopped pretending not to want. The room settles around them again in the quiet after, Sugartide breathing gently against the harbour as moonlight spills silver over damp skin and rumpled sheets. The echo of Kaisel is already half-lost to sleep as he draws the echo of Flora back against his chest, their arms linked and folded across her front, his body fitting around hers with such instinctive ease that even watching it now makes Flora’s throat tighten.

There is no dramatic flourish to it, no grand confession meant to land like fireworks over the water. That is what makes it ache. Her memory-self moulds into him without resistance, boneless and drowsy and so visibly safe that Flora can feel the old softness of it in her present body, the quiet certainty of being held by someone who had become home before either of them had been brave enough to say it properly. In the illusion, Kaisel’s breathing slows against her hair, sleep taking him swiftly now that the world has gone gentle around them, and Flora watches her past self tilt her head just enough to press a barely-there kiss to the forearm banded across her ribs. Love you, Assborn, the echo murmurs into his skin, the words softened by exhaustion and salt-warm tenderness, the ridiculous nickname tacked on like a ribbon tied around something too vulnerable to leave bare.

Flora glances at Kaisel as the whisper slips through the recreated room, her cheeks flushed and her expression suddenly stripped of all the easy sparkle that had just been there. "I knew I loved you then too." Then she huffs out a sigh, the edge of it tinged with melancholy, and the warmth in her emotions tightens into something colder at the edges, like sunlight slipping behind a cloud over open water. "If there was one part of this I’d actually do over again, it would be telling you properly that I loved you sooner, not that day on the beach." Her nose wrinkles, but there’s nothing playful in it this time, only the faint recoil of remembering how hard that day had been to survive, how every word had felt like dragging glass through her chest while they'd both been trying not to bleed all over the sand.

no one's ever had me, not like you

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

See I'm never gonna quit, got my legacy set in motion

A scoff immediately answers the attempt to slide running into the space between them, but the humor lands clean and his grin races on the heels of the sound. Regardless of it serving as nothing more than a decorative distraction, sprinkled there to keep them from feeling anything too deeply that doesn't belong, he welcomes the way she proves his statement. Her death grip on running would follow him to Mort's halls by this point.

His head shifts against her as her words die out before she finishes. He doesn't have a good look at her, tucked into her side, so he tries to snag hold of her from the edge of his view without yielding the shape of her in his arms. What he finds is the unexpected weight of thought drifting like something unmoored in this tide of feelings, the outline of it all there on the subtle draw of her face. It's the things that'd washed away with care and time, now resurfacing as if proof the sea never forgets. "...yeah," he agrees simply, knowing exactly what she's trying to but can't quite seem to say, all of it waterlogged by now. He tips his head back down and against her, a contented sigh winding free. Somethings don't need to be said. Ditto.

As the memory fast forwards and settles back into another scene he'd been there for but never seen, the little shy smile that hasn't quite left his lips expands again. This is quickly becoming a favorite, to see their moments replayed like this, and though it'll surely come back to bite him in the ass at some point too, for right now he's caught in the movie magic of their life, and gods it just started.

Sitting up more properly to better see the newness, one of his hands shifting off her to prop up his lean better against the stare, a low chuckle escapes at assborn. He can see her fully now, and he turns to her with all the glow she'd just had, as if they'd traded. Where she'd been illuminated by a god, he's shimmering with her love, all the brighter for knowing it'd been there all along. "You're the doubletake, not the retake," he says gently, bumping his shoulder into hers with enough force to upset poor balance. "And I cannnot believe we're both getting down in our feels when we literally loved each other then, and love each other now."

He pops up suddenly, reaching down swiftly to drag her up with him. He makes a point to tug the hand with her ring on it forward, holding it up like they both need to properly see it, his faded hairtie glimmering on his wrist with the process. "C'mon," he asserts, "get up. We're not gonna be dumb enough to get sad over something we didn't even lose." It'd been small, quiet pieces of past pains that they had been content to let bob out into the distance, out of sight, out of mind, until the wind came pushing them all back both lovely and terrible at once. No better description of memory, than lovely and terrible.

Kaisel

I've only just begun, I won't stop until it's done

get my car door, isn't that sweet? then pull me to the backseat

As Kaisel nudges her hard enough to upset the careful little nest they’ve made of themselves on the stairs, Flora has to release him just enough to catch herself against the step, one palm landing with a soft slap while she twists to shoot him a look full of playful challenge. It lasts all of half a second before laughter slips through, bright and helpless, because of course he’s right in the most annoying possible way, and of course being right doesn’t mean she’s going to let him have the point cleanly. "I’m the hot take now, actually," she says, lifting her chin, aqua eyes narrowing with exaggerated authority before her shoulder bumps back against his. "And my hot take is I'm allowed to think I totally fumbled telling you I love you properly that first time." Her smile flickers softer around the edges, only for a second, warmth threading through the bond like sunlight across shallow water, and then she lets the rest of the thought go because he’s already hauling them both away from the soft little teeth of memory before it can bite down too hard.

When he pops up and drags her after him, Flora gives a surprised little squeal, surrendering her hand to his with her ring flashing between them, her smile crooked and heavy with affection in a way that makes the whole stairway seem too small for the two of them and their absurd, impossible, still-new joy. She snickers under her breath, rolling her eyes as if she hasn’t spent the last few minutes tenderly recreating their emotional history in cinematic detail. "Babe, we are dumb enough to do that," she points out, because accuracy matters even in moments of personal growth, but she doesn’t resist him, not even a little.

Instead she tosses her arms around his neck, leaning into the pull of him with a wild grin as the frozen memory fades away around them, moonlight and salt and lilac dissolving back into Wildering House and the spirits who are pretending not to eavesdrop. "Fine," Flora says, her voice brightening again as she tilts her face toward his, demigodhood and love and celebration all fizzing together beneath her skin until she feels almost dizzy with it. "Take me upstairs, because I need to change." Her eyes drag deliberately downward then, taking in the very relevant fact that he still isn’t wearing pants, and her grin turns wickedly delighted. "And far be it for me to be the one to suggest putting more clothes on, but I don’t want to hear you complaining about the sand outside."

no one's ever had me, not like you

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

See I'm never gonna quit, got my legacy set in motion

The punctuation of her palm, joined with the little streaks of adorable outrage on her face, completely undoes him. He shakes with a laughter that doesn't bother with noise, melting into a broad smile as an "oh really?" lifts up in a small, disbelieving answer. "Aren't you just," he murmurs, all his fondness and agreement for that label of her fluttering across like glitter in a sunlit breeze.

It takes a moment for the reality of the label to sink in, the dawn of it slow but consuming, gaze widening with the slow stretch of it. Her hot take she says, cementing it, and breezing past the continued moaning and groaning of their missed chances (that still ended in a win), he gawks. "Wait, for real?" A happy, stuttering sort of sound rises from his chest as he grabs her arm. "That's gonna make some KILLER merch!!! I can see the flowers and flames now." Indeed, his gaze goes a touch glassy with the distance of imagination.

The excitement of that lends to some of the speed with which he hauls them back to their feet, aggressively shutting down any more moping like it's deeply offensive to the both of them and he'd not be letting her or him offend either of them any further. "That's the problem," he complains, too much warmth heating it for it to be real. "We can't both be dumb at the same time. One of us has to be in control of the braincell." Which, seems to be him right now. "Next time you show off a happy memory, you better tickle me if I get sad, and I'm gonna pinch you if you get sad." He'd rather the retaliation and anger than the cold, claiming thing of melancholy.

Pulling her flush to him with his hands at her hips, no ounce of hesitation to the draw as her arms ring his neck, he smiles down at the returning flash of her bright joy. "That's better," he says, tone gentling back into something that can afford to stay between just them, and maybe a few spirits with good hearing. "It'd be my pleasure," he says with a peck of a kiss to her nose before he reaches lower to grab her up, deftly tugging at the natural bend behind her knees to steal her balance into the cradle of his arms. With her legs draped around one arm, her lower back tucked into the other, he descends the last few stairs and heads to their room. "The only cheeks I want any sand touching are on my face," he agrees with a seriousness that the moment hardly calls for.

"Well, even though you can do that now," he considers as they cross into the room. "We need to commemorate this with a photo. That way I can remember it clearly even when you aren't around." Which, wouldn't be often, all things considered. Still, the camera on the dresser gleams with all the invitation of this being a milestone to put on their memory board too.

Kaisel

I've only just begun, I won't stop until it's done

get my car door, isn't that sweet? then pull me to the backseat

Flora waits with a patience born entirely of knowing her husband well enough by now to recognize the exact moment something has gone sailing over his head only to boomerang back around with glitter and capital letters attached. Sure enough, when it does, her smile grows wickedly pleased, dimples threatening at the corners as she nods. "Mhm," she hums, delight sparkling through her like another little burst of champagne, though at the mention of flames her nose wrinkles thoughtfully and her fingers tap against the back of his neck. "You don’t think that’s too obvious? I was thinking maybe just wavy heat lines, like for a mirage or whatever?"

Snickering as he explains the shared custody arrangement of their single braincell, Flora shakes her head at him with such open adoration that even the exasperation can’t sharpen properly. "Okay, but how is it fair that I get pinched and all you get is tickled?" she protests, eyes narrowing playfully as she leans into him, already prepared to argue the ethics of sadness-prevention retaliation as if this is a serious marital concern. "That feels extremely suspiciously weighted against me, and as your queen, wife, and newly appointed demigod, I think I deserve better terms."

Whatever further argument she might have made breaks into a delighted sound when he scoops her properly into his arms, her balance stolen easily enough that she has no choice but to cling, though the way she kicks her feet in bright little bursts suggests she’s hardly suffering. Carried bridal-style up the stairs, Flora beams at him with her arms looped around his neck, the world still gold at the edges from everything that’s happened.

When they cross into their room and he mentions a photo, Flora’s expression softens beneath the mischief, affection folding through her like warm light through sheer curtains. "Okay," she agrees. "You find some pants, and I’ll find the camera." She wriggles just enough to be set down, though she keeps one hand on him for an extra second after her feet touch the floor, before turning toward the dresser with a grin over her shoulder.

no one's ever had me, not like you

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

See I'm never gonna quit, got my legacy set in motion

Although he has no ounce of design skill in his hands, just the ability to swiftly criticize it, Kaisel pulls an immediate slant to his face. "Heat lines? You might look like the steaming take then." Which, he's positive no one wants. "I'm sure the artists will come up with something perfectly fitting, and I plan to be the first in line when they do." In case that wasn't obvious. He's also already plotting how he might afford buying up the last of the Doubletake options still on the market before the news fully breaks to everyone. Then he could resell it and maybe turn enough profit for their rings.

The contract she demands revisions of is granted more attention than any other binding thing they've done thus far, at least with just the two of them, and it swiftly draws something sly to his expression. "I'm sorry," he starts, trying to push back the laugh that tries to creep in. "Are you that anti pinching?" The urge to test it out then and there flares strong enough that his hand twitches. The lobster within begging to be set free. "Is this a weakness of the Flora Grace Hák­sop the Hot Take, that I've finally unearthed?" One he can guilt-free exploit that is, most of her other weaknesses not the sort he likes to drag into the light. "That, or you've deeply underestimated the torture of tickling, which might explain some of your more wicked moments. Absolute finger tyrant."

He's carrying on and on as he takes her to their room, only dissuaded from the impromptu filibuster by the idea of capturing this moment. It's not every day your queen and wife becomes a newly appointed demigod after all. "Deal," he agrees, leaning her back down onto her toes. The motion is slow, unspoken reluctance whenever parting from her, no matter the cause or what might be waiting on the other end. That he can feel the way she lingers too is the only thing that makes the inevitable slide of distance bearable. A certainty that they'd reach back for one another, that they always had been, even when they didn't realize it, as she's already demonstrated.

Almost shy with his departure and the unintended way his gaze follows her across the room, like it's part of her shadow too, he finally inhales and turns to his task. "Warm enough for slides, d'you think?" he calls out as he pulls open and then shuts his sock drawer. Pulling a pair or two out of the pants drawer, one sniffed and then tossed aside with a face, he settles on the thin, light gray set he had in mind from the start. He yanks them on with a finishing jump, elastic waist snapping in a final seal as he finishes tucking the boys into exact place beneath. "Ready!" he declares, spinning around with his hands in his pockets, hair still tangled in paint, but at least most of the other debris has been discarded on his old clothes.

Kaisel

I've only just begun, I won't stop until it's done

get my car door, isn't that sweet? then pull me to the backseat

Flora rolls her eyes. "Well, hot things do tend to steam," she points out, lifting her brows as if this should settle the matter entirely. As Kaisel begins to spiral delightedly into theories about weaknesses, lobsters, tyrants, and whether pinching has finally cracked open some delicate hidden vulnerability of hers, Flora gives him another look, this one dripping with feigned intolerance. "No," she says firmly, narrowing her eyes at him, "none of that. It’s just tickling doesn’t leave bruises the way pinching does." Still, even through the theatrical annoyance, the way he says Flora Grace Hák­sop sends something fresh and softly golden threading through the bond, delicate as sunlight through champagne, because hearing their secret last name tucked so easily into his mouth makes the whole private shape of them feel even warmer, even more theirs.

She hums a yes under her breath about the slides, distracted now by the camera in her hands, such that when Kaisel jumps to yank his pants fully into place, the click comes swift and merciless, Flora lowering the camera from her face with a wicked little smirk already blooming there. "So hot, babe," she says, snickering as she glances at the captured image, absolutely delighted to have immortalized him mid-hop with his pants half-settled and his hair still decorated in paint like an avant-garde handyman. "No notes."

Still grinning, she hands him the camera before stepping back into the room, rolling her shoulders before angling herself toward him, one hand lifting into her curls while the other settles at her waist, gold jewellery catching the light as she aims a sultry smoulder into the lens, chin dipped just enough, aqua eyes bright and dangerous, looking every inch the Hot Take, the Queen of Torchline, Safrin’s brand-new demigod, and wife to Kaisel Hák­sop.

no one's ever had me, not like you

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

See I'm never gonna quit, got my legacy set in motion

All lobster qualities scuttle away the moment her response gilds the tether between them. It lands like a smattering of early afternoon sun filtering past a tree, heat lifted away with the breeze just enough to leave it lingering only kindly. He'd not set the name free carelessly, but being able to feel the drift of it through her is an experience rich with satisfaction, a caramel drizzle winding across the bite of her french vanilla. He grins with all the indulgence of someone who means to fill up on dessert. "Okay," he promises, softened by the shimmering syrup sweet thing existing between them. "No pinching for you. I'll just kiss you happy instead, deal?" The threat of smothering her, if need be, absolutely buried there.

Negotiations disperse into assignments—photography and costume prep. The now familiar sound of the camera in action immediately pulls his attention up, waistband snapping in time with the set of his eyes upon her. "Ay!" he immediately protests, a grin already surfacing through the mock outrage. "Did you get my good side?" One arm drops into a flexed bar in front of him, fist seated near his hip. Setting into the mewing pose with his face, the typical model pout serving him well, his other arm bends above him.

The moment doesn't last long, skipping across the distance with an eager claim of the camera as he turns it around on her now. "That's it babygirl," he encourages with a wink tucked behind the viewfinder, snapping as aggressively as the machine will allow as he moves and reorients himself around her to catch every possible angle of fierce drama-consumption that's on display. "Oooooh!" he exclaims, sucking a hiss through his teeth. "You're so hot mrs. take." Lowering the camera, he lifts some of the printed photos and fans himself as if such focus for so long on her has given him a flush.

"Alright, pick your favorite and pin it up, I'm gonna go do my hair and then let's get out of here!" Passing the shots to her to choose and setting the camera back on an open shelf, he dives into the nearest sink to combat the paint. Satisfied after some fussing, he slips into his slides and hooks an arm around her waist, pulling her in a messy dash out of the house, too energized still by the potential that lies ahead of them now as they steer themselves to the cove.

[FIN]

Kaisel

I've only just begun, I won't stop until it's done