and on to the glory at my right hand
With Remi out with the twins, one might have expected Ronin to immediately collapse into bed and catch up on every bit of missed sleep for the past few weeks. And don't get him wrong - he absolutely does that - but not before he at least attempts to make their afternoon and evening a little easier. Between himself and his projection, they clean up the Northaven as best they can, tidying away clutter, folding endless onesies and blankets, removing toys from underfoot and so on.
Once that's done he makes sure there's something slowly roasting in the oven for later (he was too tired to check, but he's reasonably certain it's ramphire) and that there's wine in the icebox to chill, and then he retires to bed, asleep before his head so much as hits the pillow. And so when Remi returns it will be to a clean houseboat and the scent of spices and roasting meat wafting through the air, his husband softly snoring nearby beneath a mound of blankets.
Once that's done he makes sure there's something slowly roasting in the oven for later (he was too tired to check, but he's reasonably certain it's ramphire) and that there's wine in the icebox to chill, and then he retires to bed, asleep before his head so much as hits the pillow. And so when Remi returns it will be to a clean houseboat and the scent of spices and roasting meat wafting through the air, his husband softly snoring nearby beneath a mound of blankets.
ronin
