This Counts as a Present, Right?
sorry guys i know this took a really long time, but i hope u enjoy!!!
@todayis-snowy made the drawing!!
They haven’t seen Vere in 9 days.
Not that they were counting. They absolutely were not standing at the edge of the lake at dusk for the third evening in a row.
The lake was glassy and dim, reflecting the bright sun. A dragonfly skimmed the surface of the lake. Somewhere in the reeds, something splashed.
Behind them, a familiar voice drawled, “If you glare at the water any harder, it might apologize.”
They refused to show their startlement. “Go away.”
“Mm. I would, but you look so cute when you’re sulking.”
They turned to look at him.
Vere stood a few steps away, damp hair clinging to his forehead. His ears twitched once, betraying the satisfaction he was clearly trying to pretend he didn’t feel.
They hated the way their chest loosened at the sight of him.
He wandered past them as if he’d never been gone, as if days of silence were nothing at all, and dropped down on the old driftwood log with a wooden bowl with cherries in it. Was that always there? Vere always seemed to have random things with him. He popped a cherry into his mouth with a lazy hum.
He didn’t look at them when he spoke. “You look exhausted.”
“Ah,” he said lightly. “Then I suppose it’s just your face.”
Vere plucked another cherry from the bowl beside him and held it out between his fingers. “Say ah.”
They stared him down. He stared back, ears twitching with the slow-building smugness of a man who lived off being inconvenient.
Ugh. Fine.
They leaned forward, intending to just bite the damn cherry and be done with it, but Vere pulled it back at the last second, just out of reach.
They nearly face-planted into his chest.
He clicked his tongue. “Careful, sweetheart. If you wanted to be in my arms, you could have simply asked.”
“I hope you choke on a cherry pit.”
“Mm.” He slid the cherry to your lips again, this time holding it steady. “Then who would make your life interesting?”
They rolled your eyes and bit the cherry, a bit harder than necessary. He watched you eat it with the satisfied look of someone who believed he’d won something.
You swallowed. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” he said for the second time that afternoon, “you’re here.”
They opened their mouth to argue, because they did have protests, several in fact, but then he shifted closer, pressing his shoulder to theirs. Vere is quite warm, even though he’s still damp from the lake.
“I don’t… disappear because I want to worry you,” he said suddenly, “It’s just… habit. You’re being too patient with me.”
They blinked. “What do you mean Vere?”
“Don’t use that voice,” he warned, ears flattening. “I dislike it.”
“The one where I show that I care?”
“Yes. It’s personally offensive.”
They bumped their shoulder against his. “Too bad.”
Silence settled between them, softer this time.
The breeze lifted the edge of his sleeve. Up close, they could see the faint tension in his jaw, the way his fingers toyed absently with a cherry stem instead of meeting their eyes.
“You don’t owe me patience,” he muttered, almost to the lake. “Or waiting. Or…” He gestured vaguely. “Whatever this is.”
They studied him for a long moment. This insufferable, infuriating man who vanished without warning and returned with fruit and smirks like that erased the space in between.
“I’m not patient,” they said at last. “I’m stubborn.”
One pink eye slid toward them. “Is that so?”
“Yes. And I don’t wait because you’re worth it.” They nudged his knee with theirs. “I wait because I’ve decided you’re mine to be mad at.”
Veres eyes morph into small slits for just a moment, then soft laughter, followed suitHis shoulder leaned more fully into theirs this time, the contact deliberate. “How territorial,” he murmured. “I’m flattered.”
He sighed, dramatic as ever, but his hand drifted closer until his little finger brushed theirs. Testing. Not looking.
After a moment, he laced their fingers together like it had been inevitable all along.
“Next time,” they said quietly, staring out over the darkening water, “at least let me know you’re gonna to hide from me.”
Their words lingered between them for a while.
They didn’t look at him. If they did, they might soften. And they weren’t ready to forgive him that easily, not when the ache of the last few days was still curled tight beneath their ribs.
Vere huffed a quiet laugh. “Careful. That almost sounded like a request.”
The lake lapped softly at the shore. Somewhere behind them, the trees whispered in the evening wind. His thumb shifted against their knuckles.
“I’m not good at staying consistent,” he said eventually. The smugness had drained from his voice entirely. “Places. People. It’s simpler when no one expects you to show up.”
“I don’t expect you,” they replied.
His ears flicked. “Liar.”
They turned then, finally, forcing him to meet their eyes. “I don’t expect you to be perfect. I expect you to come back to me.”
His gaze sharpened, not defensive, but searching. As if he were trying to find the trick in it.
“And if I don’t?” he asked lightly, but there was nothing light in it.
They swallowed. “Then I’ll be angry.”
They hesitated. “Don’t push it.”
A slow smile tugged at his mouth, not his regular vicious smirk, Something smaller.
“You make it sound so simple,” he murmured. “Stay. Return. As if it’s just a matter of choosing.”
For a heartbeat, he looked younger. Less untouchable.
The answer settled heavy.
They squeezed his hand before they could lose their nerve. “Then start small.”
“Don’t disappear for days. Start with hours. Or leave a message with someone. Or-“ they faltered, suddenly embarrassed, “-drag me with you.”
That startled a laugh out of him.
He tilted his head, studying them like they were the reckless one now. “You wouldn’t last a day.”
“Oh, I would,” he said, eyes glinting faintly. “But not because I doubt you.”
They rolled their eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” he murmured again, softer this time, “you’re here.”
Instead, they leaned in, letting their temple brush his shoulder. He froze for half a second, like a stray not used to being approached gently. Then he relaxed into it, warmth seeping through damp fabric.
His voice dropped, quieter than they’d ever heard it.
“If I start staying,” he said, “you don’t get to leave.”
They snorted. “That’s not how that works.”
They pulled back just enough to look at him again. “Are you asking me to stay?”
His ears flattened instantly. “Absolutely not.”
“Don’t say my name like that.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was thick. Charged. Honest in a way that felt far more dangerous than any of his teasing.
His fingers tightened around theirs.
The lake lay quiet beneath the fading light, its surface brushed gold by the sinking sun. A small pile of cherries rested in the grass beside them, their skins glossy and red against the green.
His shirt clung faintly to him, darker where the water had soaked through, outlining the slope of his shoulders and the line of his chest. Droplets lingered in his hair, one slipping slowly down along his temple. He didn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, he looked far too at ease.
“You’re doing it again,” Vere said, voice low and amused.
“Looking at me like that.”
They huffed softly and reached for a cherry instead, but Vere’s fingers closed around their wrist before they could pull away. His touch was cool from the lake, grounding and deliberate.
“You’ll fall in if you lean that far,” he murmured.
“That’s not what I meant.”
The air between the two shifted.
A breeze skimmed across the water, carrying the scent of wet stone and something sweet from the fruit at their side. Vere stepped closer without quite seeming to move, damp fabric brushing against their sleeve. The chill from the water clinging to him only made the warmth beneath it more obvious.
They swallowed. “You’re still soaked.”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “Does that bother you?”
His free hand rose, slower this time, as though giving them every chance to pull away. He brushed a strand of hair from their face, fingertips lingering along their cheek. The touch was gentler than his teasing tone had been.
“Say something,” he said quietly.
The kiss began soft, almost curious. His lips were cool at first, tasting faintly of lake water and summer air, but the warmth beneath came quickly. When they didn’t pull back, Vere deepened it, one damp hand sliding to their waist to steady them.
A cherry tipped from the grass and rolled into the water with a small splash, sending ripples across the surface.
Vere breathed out against their mouth, something between a laugh and a quiet sound of surrender, and kissed them again, slower now, as if committing the moment to memory.
When he finally drew back, he rested his forehead against theirs. Water clung to his lashes. His hand hadn’t moved from their waist.
“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.
They picked up one of the remaining cherries and pressed it into his palm, their fingers brushing his.
“And you’re dripping everywhere.” they replied softly. Vere raised a brow at that, they smacked his arm in response.
Still, neither of them stepped away from the lake.
They sat like that until the sky deepened into true night, until the bowl of cherries was empty and forgotten beside them. When the chill finally crept in, he stood first, reluctant but pretending otherwise.
“I’m walking you back.” he’s not asking.
“You’ll disappear halfway there.”
“Unfair.” He extended his hand anyway. “I’ll only disappear if you stop holding on.”
They stared at his hand for a long moment.
And this time, when he smiled, it wasn’t smug.
