stories told of whirlwind romances. eyes meeting and soul recognizing soul, the center of your universe instantly shifting to the other person.
they don't tell of love that happens slowly. that isn't for the legends. and urianger had only ever known of it as it was written on the page. it neglected to mention the slower, softer kind. the real kind.
how one day you wake up and realize 'ah, there he is' despite he having been by your side all along.
its a mosaic. a magic eye picture. shelves slowly accumulating clutter that isn't his own. carefully constructed barriers and facades dropping, bit by bit, until it was more common to be reading with someone dozing in his lap than not. even quiet arguments about who would cook what that night, or heated discussions on educating the young minfilia and what role they were allowed to play in shaping her future. his eyes following thancred across the room, drinking in his smile.
a love so great it encompasses all is hard to see up close, its only when you take a step back that you see the picture it forms. yet he dared not speak it, afraid that if he did it would break what had been built. to admit that he wanted, even to himself, was hard enough. to admit it aloud and face the risk that he was the only one who did was enough to make him want to retreat, backsliding through the years of progress. it didn't matter that thancred was far from subtle, flirtations weren't uncommon, but their relationship had always been one of teasing.
it had been an offhand remark in response to what he'd thought one equally so. he hadn't looked up from the papers he was sorting, absenting thumbing through them as he paced across the room. the lack of response had lead to another, more pointed comment and he'd offered a reminder that the nearby lakeland settlement had no shortage full of men and women who would be eager to entertain him for the night.
the silence that had followed had been deafening. he'd frowned, failing to look up still, and offered to watch ryne if he truly needed the time away. he'd been meaning to teach her a more potent healing spell -
how can a man as intelligent as you are be so twelvesdamned thick, thancred's voice had cut off the offer short. he'd looked up, shocked at the annoyance in it. only to find silver eyes boring into gold with a terrible mixture of sincerity and hurt.
he'd wounded him. struck a nerve without meaning to. thancred was no longer that man and he'd known it, yet so thoughtlessly he'd...
i want you, have i not been saying that? gods, urianger, if you don't -
urianger hadn't thought, hadn't paused, hadn't considered the repercussions for the first time in his life.
the living room is a sight. the snapshot taken of this moment would be a sight to all who beheld it, and was lived and cherished by those who lived it.
they stood in the hall, urianger bent to kiss him. papers scattering slowly to the ground like gently falling snow. tossed aside as thancred put it into words. their lips pressed together, at first shy and uncertain and then something more, and more, and more, until it's simply everything.
( later, shaky and spent astride thancred's thighs, he'll realize the chaos waiting for him down in the library. the impending doom hanging over theirr heads. he'll start to get up and excuse himself, stopping only as the hyur's fingers curl around his wrist. not to tug him down, offering no force, just an alternative. an unspoken want.
but the mess will still be there come morning. it would still be waiting after minfilia had been woken for breakfast, after dishes had been done, after a story had been read.
protecting the world needn't come at the expense of living in it.
thancred's bed is too small for the both of them to fit. he sleeps curled around him, chin hooked on his shoulder, uncomfortable as can be and wishing they'd gone to his instead.
but he doesn't think he's ever slept better. )
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