the baffled king composing hallelujah
Brows raising at the question Remi's apparently been meaning to ask him, Ronin huffs out a soft laugh at the idea of something as normal as an anniversary party. "Ten years," he whispers, sneaking a kiss to the other man's cheek. "That certainly feels like it's worth celebrating, doesn't it?" Reaching for one of the Bastion's hands, Ronin presses it against his heart where the dull thud of his pulse briefly kicks up simply at having his husband's hands on him. "Of course I wouldn't mind. And I solemnly swear to be as polite as I can," he vows. "Though I may find it difficult to leave your side all night." No change there, though.
Shifting to let Remi get as decadently comfortable as he deserves to be, Ronin releases his husband's hand so he can trail his fingers softly through his curls and down his back, as if inviting a shiver of feathers to appear. "Enough," he groans affectionately as their forevers and sweet nothings become inevitably about his (stress-related, he'll have you know) greying hair. "You know, when we finally do step into Mort's halls together, I think I'll choose to be the very shape I was when we got married the first time."
Shifting to let Remi get as decadently comfortable as he deserves to be, Ronin releases his husband's hand so he can trail his fingers softly through his curls and down his back, as if inviting a shiver of feathers to appear. "Enough," he groans affectionately as their forevers and sweet nothings become inevitably about his (stress-related, he'll have you know) greying hair. "You know, when we finally do step into Mort's halls together, I think I'll choose to be the very shape I was when we got married the first time."
