[SE] the world can wait

RONIN

It doesn't get cold in Torchline in the same way it does in other regions, but Ronin can vouch for the fact that, when you live in tropical decadence, even a mild chill is a chill. Combine it with Leafchange finally releasing its hormonal deathgrip on him and good gods but the Knight is tired today, and he plans to make it everyone else's problem. (Everyone else being Remi, and problem being an enforced stint in bed with all of the creature comforts they can imagine).

For now he's only even contemplating surfacing from sleep, enough to roll over in their plush nest of blankets and furs to seek out the warmth of his husband. When he finds him, Ronin wastes no time curling his arms around Remi to draw him back against his chest, huffing a warm sigh against his shoulder and pressing a silent kiss there as he relaxes back into the pillows.

Blue eyes open just enough to spy the grey skies and choppy sea through the window, and in response he holds Remi a little tighter, pulls him a little closer, and noses against the back of his neck into his curls. "...We don't have any plans today, do we?" he asks hopefully.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

The only reason Remi had moved at all was to stretch an arm—or rather, a tentacle—toward the edge of their tangled nest and flick the kettle on with the flat of a sucker. It hums obediently in the corner of the cabin like a promise made in advance: eventually, if they ever manage to surface, there will be coffee.

But then Ronin’s warmth wraps around him again, curling like a blanket within a blanket, and Remi’s smile breaks across his face wide enough to deepen both dimples. His breath catches softly as he tips his head back slightly, slyly, nudging and angling until Ronin’s lips can’t help but catch against the stubble-rough curve of his cheek.

"You mean apart from waking up next to you?" he murmurs around a yawn he doesn’t bother to stifle, one hand curling over Ronin’s forearm to keep him close. "I actually cancelled all of our plans...for today, and the rest of the season." With a grin, he shifts just enough to press his back more snugly into Ronin’s chest, lashes fluttering shut again. "Might have to pencil in coffee, though," he adds, drowsily. "One day."

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

Smiling another silent kiss against the curve of his husband's jaw, and then delivering a real one to his stubbled cheek, Ronin hums his approval of the gentle sound of the kettle being brewed to life. A third kiss for gratitude and a fourth for luck and he finally relaxes back into the blankets, fingers skating across Remi's bare skin as if to blindly map any new freckles gained by the sunnier seasons.

"Mm, apart from that," Ronin agrees, voice sleep rough and low, and he sighs in boneless appreciation to hear that, apparently, all of Deepfrost has been cancelled in lieu of just this. "One day," he agrees in a whisper, though when the kettle finally does rumble it's announcement, the Knight summons his projection to potter around and start making coffee for them.

Finding Remi's yawn contagious, he tries to stifle his own in the pillow, only to end up nuzzling obnoxiously into the Bastion's bed tousled curls. "How is Deepfrost treating you so far?" he asks through a smirk.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

Remi doesn’t care what the kisses are for, not really. He hums in pleasure under them, lazy and indulgent, only to grumble low and wounded the moment Ronin stops, like a mild mannered but utterly spoiled puppy.

The kettle starts to rumble and Remi twitches, instinct shifting his limbs like he might get up to deal with it if only to stop the noise. But then, with impeccable timing, Ronin's projection is already up and moving. Grinning into the pillow, Remi sighs back against his husband, voice muffled and dry. "We should really give that guy a raise."

One of Ronin’s hands is guided around his chest and held there, tucked in like an extra layer of warmth and love, as natural as breathing. Remi exhales, deep and adoring, letting his fingers rest over the Knight’s knuckles. "It hasn’t been too bad so far," he muses, drowsy but sincere. "I was thinking I’d help gather more building supplies for your training grounds." His tone is casual, almost modest.

And then, angling his head back in that awkward, over-the-shoulder way to catch even the smallest sliver of Ronin’s face, Remi grins. It’s crooked and boyish, his eyes bright with mischief. "I’ve been thinking very hard about doing it," he adds solemnly, clearly expecting praise just for the intention.

"And yours?"

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

"Shh, don't say that," Ronin whispers with a fiendish smile half hidden in the blankets, "or he might realise we don't pay him to begin with." Said projection is also grinning, of course, wasting little time in filling their mugs and bringing them over to set them down - along with a plate of cookies, naturally - onto the bedside table, before promptly disappearing again.

Grumbling his affection against the back of Remi's neck as he's clasped closer, even if it means he can't actually reach for his coffee just yet, Ronin's eyes blink open as if to ensure he doesn't fall asleep mid-conversation with his husband. "Oh well that's good to hear. I'd be worried if we woke up on day one with it going terribly." He smirks, only to raise his eyebrows as the training grounds are brought up.

"Have you?" Levering an elbow beneath himself so he can curl further around Remi and smooch him obnoxiously, when Ronin rolls back again, it will be with an attempt to draw the other man over him. "That is very kind and generous of you, thank you. My Deepfrost couldn't get much better than this - all we're missing is a dark night and a thunderstorm."

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

"Don’t we?" Remi snorts under his breath, voice curling with mischief as he shifts against Ronin’s chest, as if tempted to check the household budget for evidence. "Then what have you been doing with the money that was supposed to go toward paying him?" he murmurs, his brows lifted with mock suspicion as he nudges his husband’s side in gentle accusation.

As Ronin props himself up with that teasing glint in his eyes, Remi is already halfway twisted to meet him, the transition from tucked-in to sprawled-on-top so seamless it might’ve been choreographed. Draped over the Knight like a smug and perfectly content blanket, Remi peers down at him with a grin that deepens the dimple in his cheek, every line of his body soaked in sleepy affection.

The mention of a dark night and thunderstorm has his gaze warming further, and he leans in without hesitation, brushing the tip of his nose along Ronin’s like a soft punctuation. "Honestly? I wouldn’t even mind if monsoon season decided to make a surprise return," he murmurs, lips close enough to ghost the words against Ronin’s skin. " So long as I’ve got you to keep me warm."

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

"I put it into our savings for when one of us accidentally destroys the house," Ronin says easily, his smile only half playful. If it isn't wrecking the place in a void infected rage, it's one of their children kicking the doors in or the bed breaking under mysterious circumstances with frightening regularity.

Humming out an utterly content sigh to have Remi draped across him, all warm weight and the familiar curve of his body, Ronin spends a moment or two adjusting the blankets across his husband's back to ensure he won't get cold, though as he rightly points out, as long as the Knight is around there's not a chance of that happening.

With one hand trailing between the other man's shoulder blades and the other feathering through his curls, the idea of monsoon season has Ronin grumbling something that almost sounds like longing. "I don't feel like we got to experience nearly enough monsoons," he agrees with a huff. "Not that I don't understand, obviously, with all the destruction and whatnot."

Letting his arms close around Remi now like he's nothing more than a toasty, sleepy cage to keep him trapped, Ronin smiles triumphantly. "You've always got me to keep you warm."

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

A snicker rumbles through Remi's chest, low and unbothered as he tips his head against Ronin’s shoulder. "A little nest egg for structural damages," he echoes, grinning. "I feel like I deserve a cut of that, for not destroying the house. Yet," he adds with a dry, sleepy smirk. Glancing toward the bedside table, he spies the coffee waiting patiently and hums his approval. "Maybe I’ll settle for coffee instead. But only because I’m generous, and after all these years, you do make it just the way I like it." Which was, in his opinion, priceless.

He doesn’t move to get it yet, too content in the press of Ronin’s hands and the way the Knight’s body folds around him like a living hearth. Stretching lazily, luxuriously, Remi hums again, nodding into the mess of blankets and breath-warmed air between them. "Torchline’s come a long way since we were dropped here, mm?" he murmurs, smile softening into something fond and distant.

Squinting as if trying to peer backwards through time, he sighs. "How long ago now? Eight and a half years? Nine?" The numbers taste strange on his tongue, too big and too slippery all at once. Shaking his head against Ronin’s chest, Remi breathes, "I’m not sure if it's because of how often my memories have been tampered with, or just that everything since has been so much...but gods, we’ve done a lot." His fingers find one of Ronin’s, tangling them together beneath the blankets.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

"Yet," Ronin agrees with a chuckle. "There's still plenty of time for it - and I think you're due to be the next problem, actually." He'd been the one to get infected by Dahlia, and he's just suffered through Leafchange, so it only stands to reason that Remi is next in line to be destructive and unreasonable for some reason.

Following the Bastion's gaze over to their bedside table, Ronin also has to spend a long few moments debating the warmth of his husband's body against the lure of coffee. Eventually he at least settles for halfway, scooting up in the bed to rest against the plush comfort of the pillows without releasing Remi, because upright is a step closer to awake, right?

"It certainly has, but don't you dare make me try to count the years," he quips, grinning and leaning in to lavish a few soft kisses against Remi's cheeks, as if to dissuade him from reminding them how old they've become. "We've done enough that we deserve to do nothing for a bit," he confirms, allowing his hand to be captured and giving Remi's fingers a warm squeeze.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

Thoughtfully, Remi raises a brow, a slow and boyishly wicked smirk blooming across his face. "Mmm," he hums, nodding as if Ronin’s just handed him the best idea he’s had all season. "Maybe it is my turn to be the problem." There’s a delighted glint in his eyes, utterly unrepentant about the implications.

When Ronin shifts, even just slightly, Remi grumbles loud enough to be heard over the rustling blankets, all theatrical indignation as if terribly put out by losing even a sliver of his pillow-warmer. Never mind that he’d also very much like a sip of coffee.

The affection in his sigh is unmistakable as the kisses trail across his cheek, but it’s the sight of the mugs—close, waiting—that finally stirs him. With a muffled stretch and a small contortion of limbs, one of his tentacles slips from beneath the tangled covers and snakes out to claim his mug, plucking it off the bedside table with all the casual elegance of someone who refuses to be cold or upright.

Blowing softly across the surface, Remi glances sidelong up at Ronin, brow arched. "It’s crossed my mind," he says quietly, "to see if there’s a way to stop being a demigod." The confession is light but genuine, as if he’s said it aloud before but never really meant it as more than a passing thought. "But with the way Deimos always seems to be involved in everything anyway, I’m not even sure it would matter."

He takes a careful sip, then scowls faintly when it’s still too hot, and exhales slowly. His seaglass gaze lifts to Ronin again, luminous and tired, but fond. "I suppose all we can really hope for is a few more seasons without some colonizing alien force falling from the sky." He raises the mug slightly, as if toasting that fragile wish.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

Laughing, low and rich, at Remi's utter refusal to get himself any more upright or apart from him, Ronin settles against the pillows with the Bastion more or less in his lap, and as he reaches for his coffee (and the other man's tentacle does the same) he lets his free hand card gently through his curls. "I look forward to seeing what problems you cause us," he says readily. "Though if it's all the same I'd like the problems to involve us staying dry, given the season."

Twirling one of Remi's curls around his finger - and opting to blow on his coffee but not sip at it after seeing his husband's grimace - Ronin raises a brow down at him. "Oh?" He smirks. "You're right, you know. I feel at this point that we'd end up involved regardless. And honestly, as demigods go, I think you and I have struck gold by this point." Given what they've been through to where they are now, especially.

Carefully clinking his mug against Remi's, Ronin can't help but affectionately scrunch his nose. "Come now," he says, "I think we can afford to hope for a little more than that. We should enjoy ourselves as much as possible now that things aren't on the brink of war again."

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

Remi rolls his eyes in exaggerated offence, one of his curls twitching where it’s still looped around Ronin’s finger from the movement. "Putting limitations on what sort of trouble I’m allowed to cause seems wildly unfair," he complains, though the words are soft and laced with humour, like a dog growling from under a warm blanket just to make a point. "You didn’t have a weather clause when you got infected or when Leafchange hit." Well, maybe Leafchange was a weather clause of its own, but even so.

With a sigh that dissolves into a lopsided smile, he concedes the rest, his gaze drifting briefly toward the sea-chopped horizon beyond the houseboat's windows. "Of course you’re right," he murmurs, the words a warm hush against the curve of Ronin’s collarbone. "For how old we feel some days, I know we’re not quite at retirement age...but it would be nice to think something like that is possible. That there’s a version of life where we do get to put it all down, once and for all."

As Ronin clinks their mugs together, Remi hazards another sip. This time it’s perfect, the heat lingering instead of scalding, and he sinks gratefully into the taste with a sound of contentment low in his chest. Cracking a smirk up at the Knight, his voice dips into something both sly and sincere. "So, do you have any ideas about how to enjoy ourselves now that the world’s not on fire?" His lashes lift just enough to catch Ronin’s gaze. "Because a moment ago, you could barely be convinced to sit up, let alone seize the day."

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today

RONIN

"I mean, if you want to be the problem when the sea is ice cold and the wind is cutting, by all means, but I feel like you'll be the one doing the most complaining about it," Ronin says with a playful huff. He's wrong, besides; the Knight will most definitely be the more dramatic out of the two of them, but his point still stands, however poorly made it might be. "And I don't feel as though you really find me a problem in Leafchange," he boasts, blowing on his coffee again. "In fact, I think you enjoy it."

Slurping obnoxiously from his mug, both to be annoying and to avoid burning his lips, he releases the soft curl coiled around his finger to let his hand stroke down the back of Remi's neck instead. "If we did put it all down once and for all, we'd only be bored of it. And besides, you know we'd come running into danger if anything threatened our family again. It's half the reason we are where we are." It's not as if they were made demigods without precedent, after all.

Setting his mug down and slanting a grin at Remi as he speaks again, Ronin shrugs a casual shoulder. "Oh I can think of several ways," he purrs, "and we don't need to leave the bed for any of them. Though I feel as though I should check you for bruises and broken bones after my behaviour last season." What with all the ravishing.

soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl

REMI

Remi huffs, his smile curling slow and warm at the corners of his mouth, eyes bright with mockery as he rolls them skyward. "I wouldn’t really be much of a problem if I took the weather into account, now would I?" he points out, his tone just dry enough to make his dimples seem even deeper. "Normally when people are problems, they don't tend to be that considerate."

The boyish grin lingers, spreading slightly as Ronin mentions his behaviour during Leafchange. "It isn’t my fault," Remi replies, lifting one brow with faux-innocence, "if you being a problem is actually kind of a turn on." His tentacle adjusts the mug in his grasp with theatrical elegance, as if to lend his next sip a sense of sophistication thoroughly lacking in the Knight’s slurp.

When the noise comes, Remi glares at him through the steam with all the wounded dignity of a creature who has just been audibly assaulted. He takes a careful, dainty sip of his own coffee—silent, reverent, full of judgment—and then sighs as if burdened by his husband's reasonableness. "I suppose you’re right," he concedes, letting the warmth of the drink and his husband settle deeper in his bones. "We ought to just make the most of peace while we have it."

As Ronin sets his mug down, Remi follows suit, the tentacle slipping it gently onto the bedside table. His gaze flicks back with an arch of his brow, expression laced with sly delight. "Well," he murmurs, stretching lazily, "you’re certainly welcome to check, you know—" his smile turns crooked, "—as compensation for all your problematic behaviour last season." His seaglass eyes glint with mischief, though the affection simmering just beneath is as steady and golden as the light spilling through the window.

Who are you? They ask. Death?
Sometimes... I say. But not today