you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling
Sunjata agrees with him, out loud, easily, the words hitting something in Nate's throat, in his chest, easily. Even though he knows they're true, another thing with no room for doubt, there is a difference between knowing something, and having it said out loud. That someone would suffer just as much for him as he would them, that they would still find happiness despite it, it's beyond words. It's confirmation that he's made the right choice, the best choice he possibly could have.
A silent hum leaves Nate as he begins to untangle himself from the heavy wrapping of limbs around him. I can do that, darling. He stretches out towards the bedside table, where he knows there's a pack of smokes, a box of matches, grabbing both in one hand. Returning to the warm embrace, Nate reaches up and around himself, tugging Sunjata's arms, wings back into place around him. Once he's satisfied, the ascended grabs a single cigarette from the pack, his eyes focused on the face of his husband instead of his task. Some lingering sickness in him hesitates when he lights the match, eyes flicking to the small flame before he pulls it close enough to light the smoke, then shakes it out.
Both boxes are thrown back towards the bedside table (gods only know if they manage to land where Nate means) the ascended pulling long and hard on the smoke, bringing to mind a trick he'd shown Sunjata just after Sam had kicked him out. He stops short of reducing the entire thing to ash though, his hand lifting to move it away so he can once again lean in, press their lips together. They're still sharing, technically. How's that?
A silent hum leaves Nate as he begins to untangle himself from the heavy wrapping of limbs around him. I can do that, darling. He stretches out towards the bedside table, where he knows there's a pack of smokes, a box of matches, grabbing both in one hand. Returning to the warm embrace, Nate reaches up and around himself, tugging Sunjata's arms, wings back into place around him. Once he's satisfied, the ascended grabs a single cigarette from the pack, his eyes focused on the face of his husband instead of his task. Some lingering sickness in him hesitates when he lights the match, eyes flicking to the small flame before he pulls it close enough to light the smoke, then shakes it out.
Both boxes are thrown back towards the bedside table (gods only know if they manage to land where Nate means) the ascended pulling long and hard on the smoke, bringing to mind a trick he'd shown Sunjata just after Sam had kicked him out. He stops short of reducing the entire thing to ash though, his hand lifting to move it away so he can once again lean in, press their lips together. They're still sharing, technically. How's that?
& you're trembling and he reaches over
and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist
NATE
