with heaven on my mind, and hell, well i believe
It is a long jump from come home to me to bastardized marriage traditions, a realization that is terrifying to Nate, and yet that feels right. Really, it only has to mean as much as they want it to, could mean nothing at all, though he knows, as soon as steel eyes meet his again, that that's not the case here. Regardless of what they say later, if anything at all. A smile invades Nate's face, wide and genuine, crinkling his eyes with the force of it. He might never hear and I love you, but as long as there are moments like this, he'll never need it.
Having someone else wrap him up is a little foreign to Nate, despite how nice it feels to be taken care of. It's a shift, only a breath away from heavy tradition, from declarations, and yet it feels so distant, a million miles away. He tries to summon a breath of irreverence, the edge of a smirk, but the only thing he can muster is a terribly soft gaze, his head tilting to lean against the hand tangling in his hair.
Sunjata's words seem to break whatever spell he's under, a tongue darting out to wet Nate's lips as he looks at his hand again, with a raised brow and a more critical eye. He tries to clench it closed, fingers slow to respond despite the lack of pain, both from the bandage itself, and from something deeper that he can feel twinging. "I'll be lucky if I can even take that payback." Comes the soft complaint, his wounded hand lifting, curled into it's poor attempt at a fist, and bumping gently against the attuned's jaw. "Unless you want to do a handicap match up?"
Having someone else wrap him up is a little foreign to Nate, despite how nice it feels to be taken care of. It's a shift, only a breath away from heavy tradition, from declarations, and yet it feels so distant, a million miles away. He tries to summon a breath of irreverence, the edge of a smirk, but the only thing he can muster is a terribly soft gaze, his head tilting to lean against the hand tangling in his hair.
Sunjata's words seem to break whatever spell he's under, a tongue darting out to wet Nate's lips as he looks at his hand again, with a raised brow and a more critical eye. He tries to clench it closed, fingers slow to respond despite the lack of pain, both from the bandage itself, and from something deeper that he can feel twinging. "I'll be lucky if I can even take that payback." Comes the soft complaint, his wounded hand lifting, curled into it's poor attempt at a fist, and bumping gently against the attuned's jaw. "Unless you want to do a handicap match up?"
in the stage lights, come down, breaking over me
NATE
