i'm not the man they think i am at home
Remi doesn’t so much as blink at the flash of teeth in Ronin’s grin, doesn’t temper it or soften it, only nods once with quiet, emphatic agreement, because if anything dares to shatter this hard-won peace, it will find them both far less patient than they’ve ever been with anything before. The thought of it settles between them not as threat, but as promise.
His hand turns easily in Ronin’s grasp, fingers splaying to fit more naturally between his husband’s, the familiar press of scar against skin grounding in a way that needs no words. He watches the motion of Ronin drawing his hand close, the softness of the kiss against knuckles that have known far less gentle things, and something in Remi’s chest loosens entirely at the sight of it; his husband, their children, the quiet hum of safety wrapped around them like a held breath finally released.
I love you more, he answers without hesitation, the thought shaped just as softly, threaded through with warmth that lingers even after the words themselves fade.
His gaze drifts down again to the twins, their tiny forms still pressed together, their earlier distress replaced by this strange, shared calm, and he nods faintly at Ronin’s reasoning. I thought the same, he agrees, watching the rise and fall of their small chests as though committing the rhythm to memory.
There’s a flicker of curiosity that follows, quieter but no less present, and one of his brows lifts slightly as the thought forms. If that’s the case, though... His attention lingers on them a moment longer before shifting back to Ronin, the corner of his mouth curving just a touch. I wonder if a spirit will ever come along to help us understand what it is they’re always crying about.
His hand turns easily in Ronin’s grasp, fingers splaying to fit more naturally between his husband’s, the familiar press of scar against skin grounding in a way that needs no words. He watches the motion of Ronin drawing his hand close, the softness of the kiss against knuckles that have known far less gentle things, and something in Remi’s chest loosens entirely at the sight of it; his husband, their children, the quiet hum of safety wrapped around them like a held breath finally released.
I love you more, he answers without hesitation, the thought shaped just as softly, threaded through with warmth that lingers even after the words themselves fade.
His gaze drifts down again to the twins, their tiny forms still pressed together, their earlier distress replaced by this strange, shared calm, and he nods faintly at Ronin’s reasoning. I thought the same, he agrees, watching the rise and fall of their small chests as though committing the rhythm to memory.
There’s a flicker of curiosity that follows, quieter but no less present, and one of his brows lifts slightly as the thought forms. If that’s the case, though... His attention lingers on them a moment longer before shifting back to Ronin, the corner of his mouth curving just a touch. I wonder if a spirit will ever come along to help us understand what it is they’re always crying about.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
