there's a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly
With his hands released Nate let’s his fingers press through salt-softened curls, an unsteady smile tugging at his lips. They’re so broken in so many ways, cracks spreading across the mirrors and masks they throw up so easily, and yet Nate hasn’t felt so whole in... well, truthfully days, but it already feels like a lifetime. He leans into the kiss with everything he has, threatening to topple them over the opposite direction.
Nate is distracted by his own question, all of his focus pouring into this new distraction immediately. The hand is accepted, more for contact than for support as the ascended heaves himself up, slower than he would otherwise. Leaning bodily into the hug, Nate throws both arms around Sunjata and begins pulling him into the kitchen, unhurried and not at all worried about walking backwards.
Are you very hungry? The first of a bombardment of overlapping questions - do you want something heavy? Hot? Something sweet maybe? - all of which are rendered suddenly unnecessary by Nate deciding he knows exactly what he’s going to make.
First things first though, he has to set up the kitchen. With his arms still around the attuned, Nate makes his way to the kitchen table, grabbing a chair with one hand and dragging it close to the stove. Sitting Sunjata down and presse just a few more kisses to the unscarred half of his face, Nate begins to step around the kitchen, gathering this and that. Potatoes, garlic and onion and peppers, cheese and cured meat and creamy which seems to be the hardest to find. And last, but not least, a pan and apron. He’d come downstairs dressed in only pants, some flicker of distraction stopping him when he’d meant to get dressed, and no motivation rising to drag him back to the task.
Nate is distracted by his own question, all of his focus pouring into this new distraction immediately. The hand is accepted, more for contact than for support as the ascended heaves himself up, slower than he would otherwise. Leaning bodily into the hug, Nate throws both arms around Sunjata and begins pulling him into the kitchen, unhurried and not at all worried about walking backwards.
Are you very hungry? The first of a bombardment of overlapping questions - do you want something heavy? Hot? Something sweet maybe? - all of which are rendered suddenly unnecessary by Nate deciding he knows exactly what he’s going to make.
First things first though, he has to set up the kitchen. With his arms still around the attuned, Nate makes his way to the kitchen table, grabbing a chair with one hand and dragging it close to the stove. Sitting Sunjata down and presse just a few more kisses to the unscarred half of his face, Nate begins to step around the kitchen, gathering this and that. Potatoes, garlic and onion and peppers, cheese and cured meat and creamy which seems to be the hardest to find. And last, but not least, a pan and apron. He’d come downstairs dressed in only pants, some flicker of distraction stopping him when he’d meant to get dressed, and no motivation rising to drag him back to the task.
NATE
