we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
In a previous life, Ronin would have stripped naked and climbed into bed and waited for his husband to blanket him, until his anger was little more than an irritating fizz in the corridors of his mind. He would have happily numbed himself with pleasure and physical touch, squashing down the thorny feelings that burn up into the back of his throat. And gods if he doesn't miss those days for a fraction of a second, before he catches Remi's eye and a warmth kindles in his chest that seems to dwarf all of the unhealthy (if not fun) habits that had come before.
"That sounds like a plan," he confirms to the Lullaby, swamping into the bedroom and fishing around for something dry for them to wear. He's managed to peel himself out of his wet clothes and pull on a pair of sweatpants, at least, by the time Remi returns, Ronin rubbing at his hair with a towel. A second towel is folded over the back of the chair for the other man, and he reaches out to gratefully accept the drink.
A satisfied rumble leaves his throat and chest as he tastes it, raising the glass in a cheers. "That one's a keeper," he mumbles, sinking down on the end of the bed and continuing to rub at his dark hair. "You're amazing. Thank you."
"That sounds like a plan," he confirms to the Lullaby, swamping into the bedroom and fishing around for something dry for them to wear. He's managed to peel himself out of his wet clothes and pull on a pair of sweatpants, at least, by the time Remi returns, Ronin rubbing at his hair with a towel. A second towel is folded over the back of the chair for the other man, and he reaches out to gratefully accept the drink.
A satisfied rumble leaves his throat and chest as he tastes it, raising the glass in a cheers. "That one's a keeper," he mumbles, sinking down on the end of the bed and continuing to rub at his dark hair. "You're amazing. Thank you."
THE DARK STAR
and continue fighting
