there will be scrapes and sutures; viciousness and victory
"Maybe," Ronin trills when it comes to the was it/wasn't it water debate, though (perhaps for the best) he's silenced by the way Remi turns into him, their lips meeting as effortlessly as two dancers moving to a song they've practiced hundreds of times. Smiling as he feels the other man's pulse bump along his finger, his nose brushes against Remi's when they part, and he leans instinctively into the hand that cradles his cheek, smudge of gold and all.
"And I'd choose you," he replies, effortlessly as it has ever been. "In fact, I look forward to choosing you every day for the next ten years, and for however many more we get after that." And even when they are both in Mort's halls themselves, he'll be walking through paradise hand in hand with his husband.
"Shall we get these lanterns lit and give our thanks now?" he asks quietly. "Because I'm liable to forget about them soon otherwise."
"And I'd choose you," he replies, effortlessly as it has ever been. "In fact, I look forward to choosing you every day for the next ten years, and for however many more we get after that." And even when they are both in Mort's halls themselves, he'll be walking through paradise hand in hand with his husband.
"Shall we get these lanterns lit and give our thanks now?" he asks quietly. "Because I'm liable to forget about them soon otherwise."
RONIN
