the silent hour of night

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

The sun sets early at Deepfrost, and Ronin is silently grateful for that tonight. Not that he ought to have worried that Carlo and Calan would find it difficult to sleep - he'd spotted one of the twins (or both, it honestly is so hard to tell even now) stifling yawns not long after the stars had come out. It had likely been an exhausting day even without considering everything that came after my twin and I channelled ourselves to a shrine as infants and had the trickster herald age us up.

But there had been an after, and Ronin will never be more grateful for it. Also, though he hates to admit it, the day had been much calmer without relentless crying, despite it being replaced with the rampant chaos of two suddenly nine-year-olds. There had been coffee and a lot of it, there had been rushing out to replace rain slickers with at least one set of clean clothes per boy, there had been shadow searches and wondering what to do with two cribs and constantly bumping into each other or stepping around one another.

Now, though, both boys are entirely sacked out in their bed - a bed he's not convinced will hold the four of them, but they'll see - and Ronin is leaning against the kitchen counter, quietly nursing a cup of tea and looking quite delightedly shellshocked by the day's turn of events.

RONIN

for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Remi coaxes a small flame to life over the stove, where it catches obediently (unlike the twins), licking low and blue-gold beneath his hand while he lifts the glass he has been preparing, letting the smoke curl into it before turning it slowly. A squeeze of orange waits at the bottom already, sharp and bright beneath the richer scent of gin, and as he finishes with the bottle, he slides it toward Ronin with a quiet, pointed little look, just in case tea alone has begun to feel wildly insufficient for the evening they have survived.

From the bed, the twins snore deeply, and yet Remi does not trust the peace enough to speak aloud, and so the thought slips through the bond instead, warm and tired and threaded with disbelief. Of all the monsters and gods and disasters we have experienced...I think this might just be the hardest for me to wrap my head around.

He glances back over his shoulder at Ronin, his smile crooked but softened with humour and affection. And that includes sticking my hand inside of Caido, he adds, eyebrows lifting emphatically His mouth twists wryly before he turns back to the glass, lowering it from the smoke and beginning to build the rest of the drink by memory, because after a day like this, measuring feels both unnecessary and far too ambitious.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

Tea is more than wildly insufficient, and Ronin's scoff of laughter is released under his breath out of habit. He doubts the two snoring boys will wake for anything short of a hurricane - or more cannon fire - but as infants things had not been quite so robust. Nevertheless, accepts the bottle Remi slides towards him and adds a generous measure to his tea, caring only vaguely about how it might taste.

The burn of the gin is grounding in a way that only liquor and his husband can be, and once Ronin is finished with one, he sidles up behind Remi for the other. My mind still thinks it's back at the beginning of the day, he admits, warm arms sliding around the Bastion's middle so he can draw them together without interrupting the alcoholic alchemy underway. When we woke up to find the cribs empty. Gods...

Sighing and letting his head drop to rest against Remi's shoulder, the familiar darkness and the smell of smoke and orange finishes what the gin had started. If it's all the same to you, I would rather you not stick your hand inside Caido again anyway, he adds, in case the other man is considering something a little less insane. Instead maybe I can interest you in figuring out how to make this houseboat big enough for four?

He'd assumed they'd have a lot more time - at least until the end of the season anyway - to figure this out.

RONIN

for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

As Ronin presses against his back, Remi sighs, the sound leaving him slowly. One of his hands leaves the glass long enough to settle over Ronin’s where they link around his middle, fingers pressing there with quiet gratitude before he resumes the careful little ritual of smoke and citrus and gin. The warmth of his husband behind him steadies something the liquor has not quite reached, and through the bond his answer comes soft and immediate. I know.

He exhales again, watching the smoke thin inside the glass. It seems silly, because even though I know they are here and they are safe, my mind just keeps replaying all the ways that they might not have been. The thought carries the raw exhaustion of a fear too large to burn itself out in a single day. Missing cribs. Empty blankets. The silence where crying should have been. The impossible space between looking and not finding. Even now, with their sons snoring loud enough to prove themselves alive from the other room, some part of Remi remains trapped in that first awful moment when the world had narrowed down to absence.

At Ronin’s request about Caido, Remi stifles a snort, tilting his head just enough that his cheek nearly brushes his husband’s hair. You and me both, he agrees, and there is enough dry humour in it to keep that particular old horror from settling too heavily between them.

Only then does he glance around the Northaven properly, taking in the familiar curves of the houseboat, the places where two adults and two infants had already strained the seams and where two adults and two nine-year-olds will certainly make a complete nonsense of them. His shoulders sag a touch before his brows lift with the first glimmer of actual consideration. Do you remember Ianto’s wagon? he wonders, glancing at Ronin over one shoulder, his head tilting speculatively as the thought takes shape. Perhaps that is how.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

It's not silly, Ronin promises, and even his mental voice is gruff with the exhaustion and lingering terror of those few... minutes? Half an hour? He can't even say for certain how long it had been. Inhaling a deep breath and sighing it out again, he lifts his head just enough to be able to turn and kiss Remi's cheek, scruff and all. All I keep reminding myself is that they managed to get straight back here. And for all the nonsense leading up to then, if that's not the definition of Ludo's involvement, I don't know what is.

Spontaneous aging, cannon-fire, burrito theft and matching rain slickers, and yet they had still gotten home without a scratch. That has to count for something, right?

Grinning another kiss to Remi's cheek and squeezing him closer, it's with reluctance and a lingering hand against the Bastion's lower back that Ronin gives him enough space to finish his drink, grabbing up his spiked tea for another long sip. Ianto's... oh! Where it was bigger on the inside? His eyes widen at the realisation, the Knight smiling over the rim of his mug. You are very clever, you know. I suspect that will involve quite a lot of string pulling and potentially godly involvement?

RONIN

for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Remi can only sigh and nod, because Ronin is right, but being right does very little to convince the part of his mind still standing beside two empty cribs with its hands curled uselessly at its sides that he can relax. For a moment, better Ludo than Safrin rises almost fully formed in his thoughts, dry and immediate, but Remi catches it before it can cross the bond with any real shape. No sense tempting fate and risking Safrin's ire, especially after everything that had happened with Flora.

Instead, he hums softly at Ronin’s praise, the sound warming into a quiet chuckle beneath his breath. I have been told once or twice, he thinks, and then turns carefully within his husband’s arms, drink in one hand while the other curls around Ronin’s waist. The smoke still clings faintly to the glass, mingling with the scents of citrus, gin, tea, and the lingering warmth of the day they have somehow survived.

Oh, undoubtedly it will, he says silently, his thumb brushing at Ronin’s side as his eyes flick once around the too-small room and then back to the man holding him. Though I would think both Mort or Vi might be willing to help, given that it is for our family.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

I will make a note to tell you much more often, Ronin says, smirking and setting his mug down just as Remi turns to draw them back together. Some parts of him are still knotted up about this sudden change - the sight of their children snoring away in bed hasn't quite married together with the fact that their babies are missing - but each touch from his husband goes a little way towards unpicking that worry.

Following his gaze around the far-too-cluttered houseboat and seeing with fresh eyes what it could become with the right involvement, a cord of tension in his shoulders snips away and he sighs it out for good. That's another good point, he says, amusement dancing along the bond like something warm and fizzing.

And this way we'll still be able to move around if we need to, he adds. A leviathan and kraken have nothing to fear from the open water, and a houseboat is innocuous enough to be tucked away in any cove for safekeeping. I will speak to Vi before Longnight, he decides, leaning in to kiss Remi's forehead. And for now, I suppose you and I can sleep in our shifts?

RONIN

for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Remi lifts his eyebrows, a little laugh passing silently between them while his fingers tighten with fond accusation at Ronin’s waist. You know, I think you have been promising me that for years now, he points out, the thought warm enough to blunt the teasing edge of it, because if there is one thing he has never doubted, even on the worst days and beneath the strangest skies, it is that Ronin thinks more of him than any sane person probably should.

His gaze drifts around the Northaven again, taking in the low ceiling, the tucked-away corners, the bed now crowded by the shape of two sleeping boys, and all the small evidence of a life that had already grown beyond the bones of the boat before this morning had decided to make the problem impossible to ignore. He hums a nod, tilting his head thoughtfully as the logistics begin to gather in place of panic, and though it is not peace exactly, it is something close enough to be useful.

Do you think it will stay as light as this? he wonders. Or will it feel heavier with everything we add into it? His grin appears as he lowers his chin to accept the kiss to his forehead, eyes closing briefly beneath it before opening again with a glint of mischief that has not quite been exhausted out of him yet. Perhaps we need to start exercising more if that is the case, he adds, his mouth curving against the rim of his glass as he lifts it for a careful sip. Though if the boys keep this pace, chasing them may be more than enough.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

Wincing as if to say touche and giving Remi an apologetic squeeze, Ronin reaches out for another long sip of his gin-infused tea as if that might somehow cement his promise into his memory properly. Perhaps I'll spend Longnight embroidering it onto a doily for you, he decides; it will be upon them soon enough after all, and between the bonfires and debauchery (and trying to stop people from killing themselves), he might have a bit of time for a project.

Then again, given that it will be their first Longnight with the twins, probably not.

Setting down his mug and turning enough to keep Remi clasped against him whilst being able to look around the houseboat properly, Ronin scoffs. I feel like it would need to stay light enough not to sink, but honestly I have no idea, he admits. Either way, I'll never say no to more exercise with you. Winking at his husband, Ronin is fully prepared for the consequences of his double entendre, though he's distracted by the way exhaustion suddenly hangs heavy on his shoulders.

Do you think them being this big means they'll sleep through the night now? he wonders.

RONIN

for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Remi tilts his head mischievously to the side, the look he gives Ronin entirely wasted in the dimness if not for the way it arrives through the bond with all its warmth and wickedness intact. Well, if you really want to, he thinks, as if he would never dream of denying his husband the noble domestic pursuit of LongNight embroidery. Though I can think of far better uses for your hands and time during LongNight.

His mouth curves around the edge of his glass as he hums softly under his breath, thoughtful again as his gaze tracks the narrow bones of the Northaven. No matter how many things were inside Ianto’s wagon, he was always able to move it around, he points out after a moment, shrugging with one shoulder while keeping himself folded comfortably against Ronin. So perhaps it will not matter.

The innuendo earns a quiet snicker as Remi lifts the cocktail to his lips, letting the smoke and gin burn across his tongue in a way that feels almost medicinal after the day they have had. His eyes fall back to the sleeping twins, to the unfamiliar length of limbs beneath blankets, the dark curls against pillows. His eyebrows lift thoughtfully. I am not sure, he admits of whether they will sleep through, his thumb brushing idly against Ronin’s side. But at least they should not wake up crying if they do not. But then, given the sort of mischief the boys already seem predisposed to, perhaps crying was not the worst possibility afterall.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

Don't you threaten me with a good time, Ronin drawls back to Remi. Especially when our houseboat is about to give us a lot more unexpected privacy, and our children are suddenly grown enough not to be glued to our sides all day everyday. Not that he'd ever begrudged that part of parenthood - and indeed, some part of him is sorry to see it go - but he can't deny the perks of later childhood either.

Letting his fingers dance affectionately against Remi's side, his head tilts to rest against the Bastion's curls, as though between them they're seeing the Northaven as it is right now, as well as what it might be given a quest and a few weeks of hard work. Perhaps not, he agrees, his gaze following his husband's towards the bed again. And gods, honestly even if they do wake up crying I won't mind tonight, because it means they'll have woken up at home.

Rather than spirited away to a shrine again. I suppose this means we know for sure that they're Accepted...? For them to get out to the docks and to also channel for help growing up... that would take two of them, right?

RONIN

for 1000 nights i've been a restless soul

Remi tries to stifle his laugh, though the effort only makes his shoulders tremble slightly beneath Ronin’s chin, and he raises his brows toward the bed. Bold of you to think that them not being glued to our sides is going to give us any more free time, he thinks back. Because surely every moment Carlo and Calan spend out of sight will become a new opportunity for imagination to turn traitorous. They will not be in their arms every second now, no longer small enough to be contained by a bassinet or soothed by being carried from one room to another, and Remi can already picture all the ways his mind will fill any absence with disasters. The quiet will no longer mean sleeping infants, but instead might mean climbing, scheming, wandering, or finding more weapons to set off.

Still, the brush of Ronin’s fingers against his side draws him back, and Remi leans into the touch with a soft hum, letting the warmth of it move through him before worry can settle too deeply. He tilts his head in consideration, then nods, gaze lingering on the sleeping boys with something that is not quite relief but comes close. Yes, I think so. His expression softens further, the hand around Ronin’s waist tightening slightly as the thought finishes taking shape. And because they are, at least they know we are only ever a channel away if things go wrong. It is not enough, of course, not when love has made worriers of them both and Caido has so often rewarded caution by being worse than expected. But it is something, and tonight something feels worth holding onto. 

Remi lifts his drink again, taking another slow sip before exhaling through his nose, eyes still on the two boys snoring in the bed that had somehow become theirs all at once. Though perhaps tomorrow we should have a conversation about what counts as something going wrong, he adds, the dry humour returning faintly. Before they decide a missing breakfast burrito is an emergency worthy of our attention, leaving them dry for the rest of the season.

I shouldn't laugh, but I know I'm a failure in your eyes

Groaning at that realisation, Ronin leans in without thinking to try to smother Remi's cheek and neck and lips with kisses, as if he can stop him from making such good and horrifying points. I suppose we'll have to get used to that new baseline of panic, he admits. Foolish of me to imagine that they'd be two bookworms, perfectly content to stay out of trouble and be safe. Even his mental laughter is enough that he's worried it might stir the twins, the Knight shaking his head.

But no - five minutes walking and they've already streaked down Kaiholo, set off a cannon, and stolen clothes and food. Five minutes. He tries not to sound impressed and completely fails.

The knowledge that they can at least be channelled in an emergency, then, is reassuring even if it isn't enough, as Remi quite rightly surmises. Nosing into his husband's curls and breathing in the scent of him, gin and smoke and orange and all, Ronin hums steady agreement at the conversations still to be had. And we should definitely teach them to read sooner than later - not that I expect they'll pay attention to warning signs even when they can understand them.

Smiling despite himself, Ronin can't help but nudge Remi gently. It was pretty funny, about the cannon, he admits.

RONIN

i'm not the man they think i am at home

Each kiss Ronin smears across his cheek, his neck, the corner of his mouth, draws a pulse of affection through the bond, flickering warm and bright between them like drumbeats struck beneath skin. Remi tilts his head into it, his laughter kept low only by the sleeping boys nearby, and by the time Ronin’s mouth finds the edge of his jaw, the warmth has begun to gather into something deeper, threaded with a heat that has no business waking up after the day they have had and yet absolutely does anyway.

Well, he thinks, huffing a sigh into the mop of Ronin’s dark hair, given how all the others have turned out, you would have thought at least one of our children might have been bookish. Snickering under his breath, Remi shakes his head, his fingers wandering beneath the hem of Ronin’s shirt with slow, absent familiarity, seeking skin as if the bond alone is not enough to carry everything he feels. At least when they can read, it might help them be smarter about their mischief, he says silently, the thought slipping through touch as much as through the Attuned bond, warm and wry against the lingering edge of worry. Even if it will not make them avoid them entirely.

His gaze flicks over Ronin’s shoulder toward the sleeping boys, and for a moment his expression softens into something helplessly astonished again, before he nods, the corner of his mouth twitching. It was, he agrees. Perhaps you should have them explain to Flora who set it off, he suggests. It might be harder for her to threaten jail with their pleased little faces looking up at her.