Elizathesimp

The moon hangs low over the cabin, spilling silver across the floorboards, painting Darlin’s skin in cold light. Sam watches them from the armchair, half-shadowed, a book long-forgotten in his lap.

He’s memorizing them again.

Every curve of their jaw. The way their chest rises and falls, steady. The faint hum in their chest when they breathe through their nose. That warmth—that endless, aching warmth—that has been his for so long.

“Y’know,” Darlin’ says softly, not even turning to look at him. Their voice breaks the stillness like a whisper meant for ghosts. “You stare at me like you’re tryin’ to take a picture with your eyes.”

Sam huffs out a laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe I am.”

Darlin’ finally glances back, smiling—soft, tired, knowing. “You don’t gotta. I’m not goin’ anywhere tonight.”

Tonight.

The word hits him like a punch to the ribs. Because tonight is easy. Tonight is safe. Tonight is here. But forever? Forever is the one thing he’s cursed with and the one thing they can’t have.

Sam’s gaze drops to his hands, pale and still as marble in the moonlight. “I know,” he murmurs. “I just like… remindin’ myself you’re real.”

They cross the room without a sound, like the wolf in them knows how to move through the world without disturbing it. When they kneel in front of him, their hands slide over his knees, grounding him. “Hey,” they whisper. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, huh?”

Sam looks down, eyes searching theirs. “You ever think about… time?”

Darlin’s brows furrow, but they don’t pull away. “Sometimes. Usually when I’m tryin’ not to.”

He exhales a shaky breath that could almost be a laugh. “You might outlive everyone else, if you’re lucky, Darlin’. All your friends, your pack—but not me. Not really.”

Their thumb brushes against his knee. “You say that like it’s supposed to scare me.”

“It should,” Sam says quietly. “You’re gonna die someday, and I’m just—” He swallows hard, his voice breaking. “I’m just gonna keep goin’. Like I always have.”

Darlin’ looks at him for a long time, eyes soft but steady. “That’s what’s been eatin’ at you.”

He nods, slow. “I don’t like thinking about what it’s like to watch the years take someone from me? The way their heartbeat used to slow right before…” He stops himself, jaw trembling. “And I can’t—I can’t do that. I need you.”

They rise onto their knees, take his face in their hands. “Sam.” Their voice is low, steady, but there’s a crack beneath it. “You’re not losin’ me yet.”

“That’s not the point.” He presses his forehead to theirs. “You’re mortal. I’m not. I can’t keep pretendin’ that doesn’t matter.”

Darlin’ tilts their head just enough that their nose brushes his. “Then don’t.”

He blinks, pulling back a little.

“Don’t pretend,” they whisper. “Don’t hide from it. Yeah, I’m gonna die someday. Yeah, you’ll still be here. But that’s not a curse, Sam. That’s just… life. And if I’ve only got one lifetime, then I want it to be with you.”

Their words hit him harder than any truth he’s faced in centuries.

Darlin’ smiles, though their eyes are shining with tears. “You think dying sounds so bad? ‘Cause I don’t. Not if it means I get to love you every damn day until it happens.”

Sam’s chest caves in around the sound he makes, something between a laugh and a sob. His hands come up to cradle the back of their neck, pulling them closer until his lips find theirs in a kiss that feels like surrender.

When they pull away, Darlin’s voice is just a whisper. “And you, Mr. Collins?”

Sam laughs through the ache. “What about me?”

“What do you want?”

He looks at them—really looks—and for once, there’s no fear in his gaze. Just something calm, something whole. “I’d die the same day you do. So I don’t have to wake up to a world without you in it.”

Their smile trembles. “That’s awful romantic of you.”

He chuckles, kissing the corner of their mouth. “Guess I’m sentimental like that.”

They rest their head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat that shouldn’t exist but does, for them. His fingers trace idle patterns along their back, memorizing the feel of skin over muscle, of warmth against cold.

The moon dips lower. The night hums. Somewhere, an owl calls out into the darkness.

And for a little while, the two of them just breathe.

Because this—this fleeting, fragile thing—is theirs.

And if dying ain’t so bad, it’s because loving was worth it.

They both drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the owl’s repeated call. The cool air of early night seeped into their room; the two snuggled further under the covers in response.

"I can feel your magic,” Sam mumbled. It was an uncommon sensation; usually, Darlin' only let their magic extend beyond themself when they felt safe. And they rarely felt safe.

“Yours t-t-too...”

“Feel good?”

Sam felt them nod. He gave them a small kiss before asking, “What’s it feel like?”

Darlin’ drew sleepy circles on his chest as they tuned into his magic. After a few moments of silence, they spoke—slowly, like they were savoring a flavor in their mouth:

“It’s l-l-like….sinking into a wwwarm b-b-bath..it’s like a…b-b-bass…low and in-in the b-back…thrumming…ocean wwwaves under a full mmmoon…immmmense…soothing…l-like aloe v-vera on skin after a-a sunny day…”

Joy swelled in Sam's chest and he tightened his arms around them. “I love the way you put that, darlin’,” he murmured.

Darlin’ smiled softly, sleep tugging at them. “How's mmmine?”

“Yours? Mmm…” Sam allowed Darlin’s magic to seep into him. “Your magic…is like fireworks. Those kinds that you light and then toss into the street to see them spin real quick and change colors…you’re the buzz after a concert...the windswept euphoria when you get off a roller coaster…you’re stargazin' durin' a meteor shower…your magic feels like…like…”

Home.

Darlin’ jumped.

They pushed themself up a bit and stared at Sam with wide eyes.

“What? What is it?” he asked, staring back in concern.

They shook their head. “Fuck, I-I-I heard y-you in-in mmmmy head.”

Sam mouthed a small ‘oh’. Seeing that Darlin’ was more startled than scared, he relaxed slightly. “You think we might of bridged?”

Darlin’ gave a small nod. “I-I didn’t mmmmean t-t-to.”

“Me neither,” Sam assured them, “Guess we were just…in tune with each other.”

They dropped their gaze. "I...I-I haven't d-d-d-done that in-in...in a l-l-l-long t-t-time."

"Me neither," Sam replied. He studied them a moment before asking, "Are you okay?"

They nodded again. "Are-are y-you?"

Sam couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just worried about you."

Darlin' lowered their head back onto his chest. “I-I’m fine. J-just…surprised mmme,” they muttered, trying to slow Sam's heartrate with their words.

Sam ran one hand up and down their back, with the other in their hair. When he felt like they had both reached a state of calm again, he asked, “Is that somethin' you’d be interested in doin' with me?"

After no response, he added, "S'alright if the answer’s no.”

"You don't wwwant that. N-not wwwwith mmme."

Shut down. It was the kind of response he often got from them. It was the kind of response he couldn't stand. He knew it was a form of protection, and they had been getting better about it. But still, every so often, Darlin' would deny him or themself something in the belief that they were broken or unworthy or dangerous. Every time, it simultaneously burned Sam's heart and broke it.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, trying to keep his tone gentle.

Darlin' bit the inside of their cheek. When he was met with no response again, Sam kissed the top of their head and entreated, "Please, Darlin'. You don't have to speak quick. You don't even have to give an explanation. But please don't ignore me entirely."

Fuck. How could words spoken soft as candlelight twist guilt into their gut like a knife? Darlin' buried their face into Sam's chest, breathing in his scent. It steadied them.

Finally, they responded, their voice muffled by Sam's sleepshirt, "It...fucking s-sucks…in-in mmmy head."

There it was.

Sam sighed, "That may be true, for you. But that doesn't mean I don't want to bridge with you. I'm not scared of your thoughts, darlin'."

"B-but you should b-be.”

"But I'm not," Sam pushed back, just a little. Silence fell between them, and he let it. Darlin' had answered his question. There was no point in trying to convince them how he felt. He kissed their head once again in silent reassurance that he was not mad and closed his eyes, hoping to get a bit more sleep.

Darlin' bit harder at the inside of their cheek, their mind buzzing with frustration. The owl outside made itself known again; Darlin' laid in indecision as they listened to it call over and over. They could feel Sam's magic—not reaching out but still present. His magic was safe. He was safe. He was strong. Stronger than they were. Braver. Calmer. Steadier.

When Darlin' finally spoke, their voice was small and soft and scared:

"I-I wwwwant t-to try...if-if you also wwwant t-to."

Sam felt his heart skip. He craned his neck to the side to make eye contact with Darlin' as he asked, "You sure? I don't want you doin' this if you're not really wantin’ it."

"You-you give mmme all of you. I-I wwant to do the same. E-Even if it scares mme," they whispered, "I-I wwwant t-to b-be b-brave for you."

"You don't have to."

"B-but I wwant t-to."

Sam studied their face for a moment before kissing their forehead and whispering, "Alright. Thank you, darlin'. But if we start and you don’t like it, you tell me and we’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good…is there a certain way you want to lay or sit?"

"N-n-no. You?"

"Nah, this is perfect."

Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his pillow, running his hand through Darlin's hair. Darlin' closed their eyes as well, listening to Sam's heart.

It was quick. Almost as quick as the first time. When the bridge reformed, Sam could feel Darlin's body tense against his. Through the bridge, he felt the tension in his own muscles. He kissed the top of their head.

It's okay. You're safe.

“Fuck.” Fuck, woah, that's fucking weird.

I'm going to fuck this up.

I shouldn't have done this.

I'm just going to hurt you—

—hey, hey, it's ok.

Fuck, sorry, I'll try to quiet down...

...Do you think anyone's ever tried bridging with more than one person at one time?

If you can do that, could you make a true hive mind?

Bee people. Bee shifters? Are there any insect shifters—

—fuck! Sorry!

"SSSorry..." Darlin' muttered. Sam giggled and stroked Darlin's head. The sensation soothed them both.

You're alright, darlin'.

I don’t mind your thoughts.

But you should—

—shut up, Tank—

—fuck, I wish I would just shut up!

Sorry…

...Your head is so quiet.

Shit, I don't mean quiet like empty I just—

—god I am such an ass!

You're not an ass, darlin'.

Damn, I love you.

I love you.

"I love you, darlin'."

Darlin’s body went lax at the assurance. Their mind stilled for just a moment. Tap tap tap. Darlin’ tapped Sam’s chest three times—a gesture he’d come to learn meant ‘I love you’. The feeling of their own fingers echoed against Darlin’s chest.

I love you, too.

So much.

Fuck what time is it?

Shit, we’ve got to get up soon.

Do we?

It’s…Saturday? Yeah, Saturday.

Fuck yeah, we can stay in bed.

We could make breakfast.

More like you could make breakfast, I’m shit at cooking.

I’m shit at most things.

I don’t even think I’m doing this right—

—you’re doin’ just fine, pup.

Sam’s heart skipped as he realized what he’d just thought. Or maybe it was Darlin’s heart skipping, he couldn’t quite tell. His eyes shot open, and he looked down at Darlin’, whose face was already turning red. Sam’s own face began to burn too.

“Fuck, Darlin’, I’m so sorry.” I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to think that.

That wasn’t appropriate.

I should have asked before—

—fuck…

For once, Darlin’s head was quiet. Like static. Sam’s stomach fluttered. Or maybe it was Darlin’s. The bridge was somehow deepening, and Sam struggled to differentiate where the feelings were originating.

I know wolves can be particular with those kinds of names.

Especially when their mates aren’t wolves.

I should have asked.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…

Sam’s thoughts slowed as Darlin’ pressed a soft kiss to his lips. They buried their face into his neck.

“Darlin’?”

I liked that.

You…what? "What?"

Darlin’ groaned quietly, “I-I liked it.”

Call me it again—

—wait, I mean, uh, um…

A grin stretched across Sam’s face. “Oh yeah?” he cooed, stroking the nape of Darlin’s neck.

You like bein’ called pup?

Sam giggled as his stomach fluttered at the word; this time he could tell that feeling definitely came from Darlin’.

You just a little puppy?

My puppy?

“SSSSSaaaammm…” Darlin’ whined.

Sam pulled his body back a bit. Darlin’ turned their head to look up at him. The blush on their cheeks made Sam swoon, but he still had to be sure:

“I can stop, darlin’,” Sam said, his voice soft but serious.

Darlin’ shook their head. “N-no.” It’s just, nobody’s ever called me that…

Sam couldn’t stop grinning. Their blush. The way they ducked their head and avoided his eyes. The weakness in their voice. He rarely saw Darlin’ so bashful.

Well it’s about time…

My sweet puppy…

C’mere… "C'mere."

Darlin’ hummed as they curled themself around Sam once more, tangling their limbs with his. Sam ran his hands through their hair as they traced their fingers over his chest. The two sank into repose as their sensations and thoughts melded and lost origin.

Sam breathed deep and murmured, “Such a good pup.”