if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance
take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
It would take an idiot to not notice the shadows in the steel of his husbands eyes, and Nate is no idiot. He does however, know when and where to pick at things, and this is not the time. Not so soon into his homecoming. ”Supposed to be, and I will have to go back, but,” Hands wrap around Sunjata’s hips, pulling him in until they’re pressed together neatly, despite the bag and bottle still burdening the ascended, ”I just couldn’t stay away from my sunshine.” Better to make a handful of day (night) trips, and spend as much time as he can here in between them, a balancing act of care and duty that surely won’t burn him out mentally.
Nate basks in the moment of closeness before leaning back, his arm stretching out lazily to set the bag on the counter with a weighty clunk, the bottle slipping out from under his arm and caught in a quick hand like a magic trick he's spent far too much time practising. It’s offered out towards the attuned. ”I brought a bottle of the good stuff back from the VlamVloed.” And I got something else for you. The words are both an offer and a tease, Nate’s arms pulling Sunjata in for a proper hug now, instead of simple closeness, not caring that they’d simply juggled the burdens around instead of relieving them.
They rotate slowly, the embrace not exactly a dance, and not exactly far from it either. It’s the long, breathless kiss that streets it away from such chaste romantic gestures. Nate only stops, only leans away once Sunjata is closer to the counter than he is, looking pointedly at the bag and leaving it to the other man to disentangle them. Within, if Sunjata gets that far, is a blackberry pie in a heavy earthen plate. Nate is more a chef than a baker, but there’s a conveniently empty shop in the grounds with everything he’d needed for this particular surprise.
Nate basks in the moment of closeness before leaning back, his arm stretching out lazily to set the bag on the counter with a weighty clunk, the bottle slipping out from under his arm and caught in a quick hand like a magic trick he's spent far too much time practising. It’s offered out towards the attuned. ”I brought a bottle of the good stuff back from the VlamVloed.” And I got something else for you. The words are both an offer and a tease, Nate’s arms pulling Sunjata in for a proper hug now, instead of simple closeness, not caring that they’d simply juggled the burdens around instead of relieving them.
They rotate slowly, the embrace not exactly a dance, and not exactly far from it either. It’s the long, breathless kiss that streets it away from such chaste romantic gestures. Nate only stops, only leans away once Sunjata is closer to the counter than he is, looking pointedly at the bag and leaving it to the other man to disentangle them. Within, if Sunjata gets that far, is a blackberry pie in a heavy earthen plate. Nate is more a chef than a baker, but there’s a conveniently empty shop in the grounds with everything he’d needed for this particular surprise.
NATE
