NATE
i would do anything for you to love me,
like i'm an american hero, baby
like i'm an american hero, baby
A trade of what exactly is a question for someone else, the details not needed right now. He was back, and if Wessex had been there, it could not have been entirely in Sunjata’s hands. Nate imagines he’ll be having a talk with his fellow Demi god sooner rather than later anyway, he can ask her then. So many things filed away in his later box, unimportant for the moment, questions and gifts and gods only know what else.
Compared to the kiss, their closeness, it’s all inconsequential, too small to worry about. It’s only when they part again that Nate can feel the weight of their problems in Sunjata’s hands, twisted in his hair. Nate wants to lean into the touch more than anything, but he’s hesitant to move, to open up distance between them.
Something with Frey was less worrying than something with Safrin ever had been, metaphorical wind returning to Nate’s sails. Those are more questions for later, less important again than what Sunjata follows it up with. There had been something minor, something wrong when he’s woken up, but it was lost in the general fuzz of being awake again. Now, realization slams into Nate like a freight train, his eyes flicking around as if they could somehow get a glimpse of themselves while his husband explains further. “I hope it fucking hurt him. Motherfucker.” Nate snarls, unable to stop himself.
His eyes stop, locking on Sunjata with an intensity that matches the urgency in his voice. “I wanted to bring you his heart, so you could see it, so you knew. He’s a fucking cheater, coward.” Nate leans in again, hard enough that the thumb near his eye digs in, a pressure his systems raise a low protest to. “Scum of the earth, called Her, and fucking… fucking…” He blinks, the shimmer of fluid spilling over from his eyes and flooding down his cheeks, surprising him. “I’m sorry.”
Compared to the kiss, their closeness, it’s all inconsequential, too small to worry about. It’s only when they part again that Nate can feel the weight of their problems in Sunjata’s hands, twisted in his hair. Nate wants to lean into the touch more than anything, but he’s hesitant to move, to open up distance between them.
Something with Frey was less worrying than something with Safrin ever had been, metaphorical wind returning to Nate’s sails. Those are more questions for later, less important again than what Sunjata follows it up with. There had been something minor, something wrong when he’s woken up, but it was lost in the general fuzz of being awake again. Now, realization slams into Nate like a freight train, his eyes flicking around as if they could somehow get a glimpse of themselves while his husband explains further. “I hope it fucking hurt him. Motherfucker.” Nate snarls, unable to stop himself.
His eyes stop, locking on Sunjata with an intensity that matches the urgency in his voice. “I wanted to bring you his heart, so you could see it, so you knew. He’s a fucking cheater, coward.” Nate leans in again, hard enough that the thumb near his eye digs in, a pressure his systems raise a low protest to. “Scum of the earth, called Her, and fucking… fucking…” He blinks, the shimmer of fluid spilling over from his eyes and flooding down his cheeks, surprising him. “I’m sorry.”
star-spangled in my manner, shaking
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see
every man's hand in the presidential manor, you see
