the silent hour of night

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

Mm, and it's not like we didn't read to them a ton when they were... uh... seedlings? Grinning, Ronin doesn't try to hide the way he craves the heat starting to pulse through Remi's thoughts, despite the stress and exhaustion of the day and the presence of two little bodies taking up all the space in their bed. Stepping closer (not that there's much closer to get) and shifting at the feel of warm fingers against his bare skin, his sigh is a poorly masked attempt to keep his mind on the straight and narrow, and he punctuates it with yet another kiss to Remi's neck.

Based on their first ten minutes of being able to walk around independently, I'm not sure anything will keep them out of mischief. Reading might make it worse if anything. Not that he's an advocate for keeping them illiterate, but it feels as though trouble is about to just become part of their day to day for the foreseeable future.

Again, though, at least that trouble appears to be funny.

Oh that's a great idea, he says of taking the boys to see Flora, grinning and coiling both arms back around his husband. Their pleased little faces and the fact that, between she and Enzo, they can teach them more twin mischief.

RONIN

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi exhales shakily and all at once into Ronin’s hair as his husband’s mouth continues its wandering path over his skin, the sound catching somewhere between laughter and want despite the tensions still threatening to cling to every muscle he owns. Through the bond, the warm drumbeats of his affection darken into a deep scarlet pulse, steady and heated beneath all the day’s lingering fear, and his fingers press a little more deliberately against the skin beneath Ronin’s shirt before remembering, that their bed is currently occupied by two suddenly enormous children who have already proven themselves far too inventive to be trusted with any unsupervised stretch of time, even while asleep.

Well, at least if they can read, they can write, he thinks, trying very hard to let dry humour do what restraint is only barely managing. So if they use up all their channeling, they can at least send us a note from whatever jail they end up in.

His mouth twists despite himself, because already the boys seem to have inherited Ronin’s charm, all bright eyes and pleased little faces and the immediate conviction that whatever they had done had been clever rather than criminal. Hopefully that meant that whatever situation they could not sweet-talk their way out of, they might at least manage to soften with those identical smiles. Grinning crookedly, he glances from the sleeping boys back to Ronin, his eyes warmed by mischief even as something more cautious lingers beneath. Whatever takes Flora’s mind off being upset at us, I will count as a win.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

Mm, that's a good point. And I wish I could argue and say it might not necessarily be a jail, but... that would be a lie. Their twins have a colourful future ahead of them, whether or not charm and wit will be enough to let them brush by trouble without catching it. They can also write apologies, or notes to tell us where they've gone so if they can't channel us we know what region to find them in. All of this is far, far in the future, but it also serves as a good distraction from the delicious heat of Remi's body or the way Ronin keeps forgetting their conversation only seconds before about how small The Northaven has become.

Peeling himself reluctantly back until he's standing straight again and only one arm is curled casually around Remi's waist, Ronin smirks and reaches for the last of his tea. I still plan to apologise, but... it can't hurt to bring them along. Especially given the cannon situation. I'm surprised she wasn't already storming the beach to find the culprits - or to ask us to do it.

RONIN

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi stifles another snicker, though the effort does little more than press it into the warm line of his mouth as he glances again toward the bed. Bold of you to think any of our children are prone to writing apologies, he thinks, the words dry enough to make up for the affection gathering beneath them. He is not nearly so sure as Ronin that jail and written explanations are far in the future, given that Carlo and Calan have managed to compress an alarming amount of incident into their first day with working knees, but for tonight, at least, they are home and asleep.

A resigned little sigh leaves him as Ronin straightens, and Remi reaches for his own drink again, taking a slow, thoughtful sip while the smoke and gin burn pleasantly over his tongue. Perhaps she already knows who it was, he suggests after a moment, one shoulder lifting in a small shrug as he looks sidelong at his husband. Maybe knowing when her rules are broken is one of her new powers. His brows rise faintly over the rim of his glass, mischief softening into something more complicated as Flora’s name brushes against the still-tender place their last conversation left behind. Though if it is, I imagine we will find out very quickly whether it extends to family exemptions, he adds, gaze flicking toward the boys before returning to Ronin. Or if lemon and lime over there are about to become Torchline’s youngest wanted criminals.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

I didn't say they'd be writing them voluntarily, Ronin points out with a wry smile. I'm going to take full advantage of the twins still being young enough to scold to teach them the value of a well phrased apology, whether or not they mean it. And yes, that may well mean that he's accidentally armed them with further deceitful charm in the future, but at least he can say he's tried for the sake of social norms.

Finishing his tea and relishing the botanical burn of the gin as he sets his empty mug down, despite having purposely straightened up and away from his husband and the temptation of his mere existence, Ronin is already drawing him back close against his side, nosing into his curls to press a kiss to his temple. Maybe, he agrees softly, the subject of Flora still a soft and easily bruised place in his mind and heart both.

Mm, if we haven't had a knock at our door by mid-morning tomorrow, I think we can safely rule it out. Not that it's a bad thing - I reckon those boys would wear that title with pride. And if lemon and lime become nicknames for their youth, well, they've asked for that as well.

Sighing and closing his eyes for a moment or so, the gin has managed to do what logic hasn't, and some part of the Knight finally unclenches and accepts that their sons are home and safe, if not walking and talking rather than babbling at them. There's probably room in bed for one of us, he says wryly. I can go sleep as a leviathan and you can have the first night here?

RONIN

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Remi chuckles, the sound low and softened by the late hour, and the thought that follows is warm with dry amusement. Better you than me, he admits. I never quite learned how to apologise charmingly, especially when I did not mean it. His mouth twists faintly, because sincerity has never been the problem so much as pretending at it, and gods if he was going to learn it by osmosis from Ronin, surely he'd have done so by now.

He downs the rest of his drink in one swallow, letting the smoke and gin burn a clean path through the exhaustion gathered in his chest, then sets the empty glass on the counter so he can wrap both arms properly around Ronin. The kiss to his temple lingers in him, softening the bruised places Flora’s name still leaves behind, and for a moment he simply holds his husband close, breathing in tea and gin and the familiar warmth of him while the boys snore on in the bed as if the world has not changed shape around them.

At Ronin’s suggestion, Remi scoffs under his breath and shakes his head. Do not be silly, he hums.  We can all fit if I shift to be a raccoon or hawk. His shoulders lift in a small shrug. Back in Northaven, I sold my bed for money after a time and spent most of my nights as a hawk. His smile returns crookedly as he glances toward the bed. But I am sure even as a raccoon, we can probably all fit.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

Mm, I know. That's why I need to get ahead of the game before Carlo and Calan lose the ability, too. I have a feeling they're going to have more need of it than you ever did. Smirking, Ronin shifts readily in Remi's grip to wind his arms around him in turn, burying his nose in soft curls and letting exhaustion tug his eyes shut, even if it's only for these blissful few seconds of domesticity where their two youngest children are safe and their home is their home, if not three sizes too small.

Only the notion of being silly has him drawing back enough to raise an eyebrow down at Remi, but of course his husband has a very clever compromise for the both of them. Ronin is once again left smiling helplessly at his husband's genius, leaning in to sneak a kiss that is purposefully chaste just to ensure that neither of them are immediately taken in again by the other's charm.

Raccoon, he decides, as if waiting expectantly for the Bastion to shift in his arms as usual. You're less likely to be injured or retaliate with talons if one of the boys tries to use you as a stuffed animal that way, he points out.

RONIN

remi

You are very wise, Remi agrees silently, before his arms drape around Ronin’s neck as if he means to make leaving the kitchen as difficult as possible, and, before the night can decide whether it has room for one more complication, he leans in to kiss his husband slowly and softly, lingering there with the last of the gin warm on his tongue and the bond between them glowing with all the things the day had tried and failed to knock loose.

Just before he shifts, Ronin will feel the mischief spark humming through the bond. One moment Remi is pressed against him, warm and human and smiling against his mouth, and the next there is a raccoon hanging from the Knight’s neck, paws hooked comfortably where arms had been, dark eyes bright with outrageous expectation. He makes no move whatsoever to help himself down, because this is very clearly Ronin’s suggestion and therefore Ronin’s problem, and thus he intends to be carried like royalty for at least the distance between the kitchen and the bed.

Once transported, Remi finds a place near the pillows where he can curl up out of the way, compact and warm, his ringed tail tucked carefully around himself while the boys sleep on in their improbable sprawl. At some point in the night, though, the arrangement changes and by morning, Remi is wedged between the twins with one boy’s hand curled firmly around his tail while the other has gathered the rest of him close against his chest, all whilst taking up about 80% of the bed and leaving Ronin to thank them for the rest.

~FIN

we're only human but we've got hands & hearts & noses
So stop and smell the fuckin' roses

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!