goldenskiex:
“As someone who recently obtained a Hampton Nautical Mayflower ship in a bottle, I solemnly swear,” he says, pressing a fist to his chest and bowing, albeit with a grin on his face, “that no harm will ever come to my boyfriend’s vintage car.”
Malachi can’t help the peal of laughter that escapes him shortly after. “Come on.” He jerks his chin towards the door as he hooks their pinkies together. Excelsior, he mouths at Jordan.
Outside, the camp is ghost-quiet, with only a few commotions here and there from places that had yet to be mended together. Walking though the debri and the ashes of the unforgotten battle makes his expression sober up but when he glimpses Jordan again, head tilted so that a slice of his face drinks up the sunlight, some of his previous smile flits across his lips once more. “Not much,” he says in a softer tone, chuckling. “It takes quite an effort to be celebratory when you’re surrounded by—” he gestures towards the wreckage, “this.”
They reach the car soon. “Perhaps we should stay,” Malachi sighs, carefully but absently touching the polished hood. “Doesn’t it seem like they need us? In case another attack comes this way again?” His gaze drifts to Jordan in search of much-needed counsel. Their love has always been this: duty over intimacy, work over themselves. Heroes first, lovers second.
-
“All the more reason we should have a moment to ourselves and find something to enjoy,” Jordan said. It was rich, coming from the workaholic, but he of all people knew how quickly one could drown in obligations.
Malachi had been the one to teach him that there was more to life than the grind, so now that the roles were flipped, and his boyfriend was in desperate need of a reminder himself, Jordan was glad to provide.
“Perhaps we should not,” he amended Malachi’s hesitant sentence, and leaned close to pin him against the hood of his car, trapping him between his hands on either side of him. He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, lingering just a bit longer to bring it to the cusp of a full-blown make-out session, so the moment he pulled away felt deliberate and cruel. “If you don’t take a few days off or just, remind yourself you’re half-human, too, you’ll become senile, like me,” Jordan teased, stealing one more kiss before he got into the passenger’s seat of his vintage baby. “Come on, Le Roux, we’re losing daylight,” he called out the window.











