Best-Laid Plans

As Sam looked up, the carefully constructed phrases with perfectly selected words disappeared entirely and all he could see was the searching and wanting and waiting look in Sam's eyes that seemed to change them into a kaleidoscope of colour. For a moment Remi was lost in the small flecks of green and blue and gray that he'd never noticed before. Did Sam know that they seemed to mirror his freckles? The alchemist could feel a small and unbidden smile pulling at his lips as he wondered dreamily and inappropriately whether if the constallation of freckles on Sam's body coudl render the star patterns of Northaven. Or here. Or any. It suddenly didn't matter, and it didn't—

—but then his eyes were pulled down, past the curve of Sam's nose to his lips. Lips that he'd now seen smile and frown and sag and laugh and crease with all manner of emotions. Lips that had been wet with Remi's own blood—an image that should have been revolting but somehow stupidly wasn't.

"Uhm—" Remi said, some small rational part of his mind still trying to remain focused. Blinking rapidly and glancing over Sam's shoulder as if somehow focusing on something else might bring back the words he wanted to say, Remi laughed a small and self-deprecating sort of sound, before raising his eyes back to Sam's almost apologetically. "Perhaps you would know better than I would at this point..but I do not believe another man has ever said he loved me before." Remi admitted in a soft and low voice, his melodic accent keeping the words bouyant even though the gentleness of his voice threatened to merely let them drop to the ground. "So please—" Raising his eyes uncertainly, he scanned Sam's gaze for a moment before letting himself smile slightly. "—never apologize for that." He managed finally, his voice no more than a whisper.