#druig ff

“You—,” you let out, but that was all you could find words for. A simple stutter, a mutter of utter shock and confusion. 

You’d seen him go down, down, down. You thought he’d died. 

You clenched your jaw when tears started to well in your eyes, stepping away from the others as he approached you with such purpose. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t die,” you let out, your voice scratching the back of your throat. 

“And I didn’t, sweetheart,” he said, upping his pace as you still tried to regain your composure. The relief you felt was like nothing before; injecting into your core and spiralling out until your flittering heart finally slowed down and your eyes focused enough to be able to actually look at him—

Happy, smiling, bounding towards you with large steps and open arms. 

He knew he’d been close to death; more than you did; but the look on his face didn’t portray that. It said I kept my promise. I’m still here. 

“Don’t you dare,” you said weakly, wanting to be mad at him, as he stretched open his arms and smiled even wider as he approached you. You were still reeling from the shock and the anger, from this game that had happened without it being anyone’s fault, but Druig didn’t care. 

He just wanted to embrace you. To feel you. To know that you finally could get back all the time you missed together. 

Tears fell from your eyes then, as your boy was two steps away. “Druig—,” you croaked, but you were cut off by his arms encapsulating you in an embrace that felt so different to what you’d had before. 

It was both rushed and steady. It was both craved and fearful of being lost as soon as you touched him. And you couldn’t do anything except hug him back; hug him back so hard that you were sure your ribs might crack all over again and your lungs might collapse. 

He placed his hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place as his body pressed against yours. “We have plans,” he whispered. “I couldn’t miss ‘em,” you let out a scoff as he pulled away slightly, slinking his hands over to rest on each side of your face. 

His forehead was against yours as if on cue. 

You knew he could feel your thoughts, know every word that travelled through your mind, and in that moment you knew exactly what he was hearing—

I love you so much. 

He let out a laugh, closing his eyes comfortably. “I don’t need to be a mind reader to know that,” you squeezed him affectionately, still reeling from the utter relief you felt. 

“Shut up, Druig,” you let out. 

“Make me,” he replied instantly. 

You took the words right out of his mouth as you leant in then, bridging the gap between the two of you. It’d been eight thousand years too late, but finally your lips were on his and his were on yours. He kissed softly, softer than you thought Druig would, but you weren’t complaining about the way they danced slowly over your own. 

He tightened his grip on the back of your neck while you moved your hands to either side of his face. You pulled him forward, even though there was no space between you anymore. 

Phastos was the first to sigh in amusement. He leant towards Thena slowly. “I thought they’d already made out once before?” he whispered. Thena smirked knowingly. 

“No, that is a kiss that has been waiting five thousand years,” she said strongly. 

“Longer,” Makkari signed. Sersi jokingly nudged her. 

“It was about time,” Sersi agreed. 

“Gross,” Sprite said timidly, standing behind the group. She was lying though, and everyone knew it. Behind her eyes, there was a longing. A longing for love, for affection, for a life that Arishem had stolen from her the moment he made her appear to be a child for all of eternity. 

Sprite saw that longing in you and Druig for each other. She was jealous, but she was also happy. It was a balance that she’d had to get used to. 

You pulled away from him to breathe, and what came out of your mouth was the greatest laughter you’d ever produced. He looked at you funnily, keeping himself close. 

“You laughing at me?” he whispered. 

The only strength you had left was to shake your head, amusement still on your lips. 

After all this time, the years you’d been apart, the way in which you’d come back to each other; you couldn’t believe you actually had him. You couldn’t believe he felt the same, after a thousand years of back and forth and doubts and dilemmas. 

Your Druig. 

“I’m starting to think that Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet about you two,” Phastos said, as the two of you approached the group, hand in hand. He was smiling wide. “Two Eternals, both alike in dignity,” 

“Star-crossed,” Druig said melodramatically, squeezing your hand. “Destined for tragedy!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Squished by his chest, you shoved him off you jokingly. 

“What a load of shit,” you commented, and everyone let out a needed chuckle. Druig’s face softened as he turned to the others. 

“See? She gets it,” 

Makkari stepped forward then, shooting a sunshine smile at the two of you. “Glad you’re not dead,” she signed at Druig. He shot forward, bumping into her affectionately. 

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he joked. She giggled to herself, happy that all of you were still standing. All of you, besides Ikaris. 

You glanced at Sersi knowingly, and the accepting look on her face was enough to know—it had been his own decision, his own will. He had made his own bed with this fight. He had made his own bed from the moment he’d stabbed Ajak in the back. 

The rest of you would live, would continue. The way you always had. The way you’d learned to. 

It was enough. 

------------------

In the days after, you all congregated at Ajak’s farm in South Dakota. Phastos with his husband and son, Kingo with his private jet, and yourself with Druig firmly in your embrace. 

It was different, traversing Ajak’s kitchen without her being there. She used to bake a lot, back in Babylon, and Sprite told stories of how she’d kept it up through the years. It was a lot to take in, mostly for the childlike Eternal. 

Sprite had lived with Ajak the longest, never once growing up in appearance or in the way humans treated her. 

But now—she was human. She was truly growing, now. 

“Ageing isn’t going to be a walk in the park, Sprite,” Kingo said, taking a seat next to Phastos on the large, velvet sofa. “You could get acne,”

“You could get back-ne,” Druig chimed in, stuffing his face with a bread roll. You elbowed him in the ribs swiftly. 

“Don’t listen to them,” you said quickly. “Druig is just jealous that he won’t get to grow up properly,” Druig’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets. 

“I’m perfectly content staying this handsome,” he muttered through a full mouth. 

“Still can’t grow a beard though, can you?” Kingo quipped. Druig rose as if a fight was on the cards. You grabbed the back of his leather jacket and pulled him back to seating. 

“Enough,” you let out. “Gods, you two fight like an old married couple,” 

“And you boss him around like a true wife,” Phastos chimed in, pointing between yourself and Druig. Druig’s face lit up in an immediate smirk, while you grimaced painfully. 

“I think I’ll wait another thousand years for marriage,” you said, scowling. 

“Awh, you don’t want to tie me down?” Druig said lowly, leaning closer to you and peering deep into your eyes. You let out a scoff. 

“Might meet someone better than you, who knows?” you hit back with.

No one’s better than him. No one could even compare. 

Druig flicked his gaze to your forehead, then back to your eyes. “That’s not what your thoughts are saying,”

“Okay, okay—get a goddamn room, you two,” Kingo said, frowning in disgust. You and Druig simply stayed like that, looking at each other, sending each other telepathic messages of just how much you adored one another. 

You’d become exactly the type of person you hated, but while Druig stared between your lips and eyes and nose and you—you couldn’t fucking care less. 

You liked this. Being around them all, despite the tragedies of the last week. Seeing Phastos and his family, Thena learning to overcome her illness, Sprite become a real fucking teenager. This was a memory you’d hold to for the rest of your immortal life. 

From the kitchen, Thena summoned her blade. The entire living room jumped as they saw it, glimmering next to Phastos’ son. Phastos immediately let out a yelp, rushing to the kitchen to disperse the chaos. His husband only laughed, already used to the antics of this group. 

“What was it like?” you asked suddenly, turning to Ben, Phastos’ other half. “When he told you who he truly was?”

Ben thought for a few seconds, before smiling at you genuinely. “I’d always known he was special, in his own way. It took some time for me to believe it, but his stories have always amazed me,” he began. “I would sometimes wonder—will this work? Can we be together?—but the one thing that changed everything was simply accepting that he is the man I love. We have a life together, a son, and I wouldn’t change him for anything. We’ll jump the hurdles when we get to them,” 

You nodded softly, overcome with an immense warmth that traversed your body. Sending him a wobbly smile, Druig grabbed your hand gently. 

“Well said,” was all he spoke, but it conveyed his every feeling. 

Things would always be hard, but you would get through it all together. 

“Sure you don’t want to come?” Makkari signed, outside the house. Druig shook his head sullenly, peering out at the Domo on the field beyond the farm. 

“I have a life to live here, now,” he said softly, and Makkari sent him a smirk. Her eyes travelled to behind him then, as you were leaving the house next to Thena. 

Standing next to Druig, he slotted his hand into yours, bumping his shoulder into your own sweetly. You peered up at him softly, not needing to speak to get across how you felt. 

Thena took her position next to Makkari, nodding proudly at her family. 

“We’ll find our kin and tell them of the truth,” she said strongly. “We’ll return,” she added, and you found yourself nodding. Nodding in approval, but also sadness. 

They were off to travel this universe, to find others of your kind and teach them the real truth of being instructed to protect evolving planets. Arishem would simply have to invent another being, if he so wished—a being without the capability of emotion, of free will. 

“Be safe,” was the last thing you said to them both, before the Domo took off and disappeared into the distance. As the final Eternals trickled from Ajak’s home, you and Druig found yourselves being the last in the house. 

You shut the door after Sersi left, tidying up the kitchen a bit as you soaked up all the happiness you could in the moment. Beneath the surface, you would always harbour anger for the last five thousand years, for what happened to split you all up, for Ikaris and Arishem themselves. 

But there was more love to be found than anything else. Growing up had made you realise that now, even if it had been a long and arduous journey to reach that conclusion. 

From the living room, the static of music began to play from Ajak’s old record player. You glanced around the corner, amusement on your lips at the sight you saw. Druig fiddled with the player, his jacket shrugged off on the sofa. When he turned to you, the playful smile on his mischievous face was enough to make you crumble internally. 

“What’s this?” you chided, as he slowly began shuffling towards you. He bobbed his shoulders in time to the music, prompting you to giggle.

“It’s Christmas Eve, you know,” he replied, before sticking his hand out for you to take. “There’s still time to see the tree at Rockefeller Centre,” he added, as you slotted your palm into his. He tugged you close, drifting his other hand to your waist warmly. You draped your other hand on his shoulder. 

“And still time to enjoy the sunshine in the rainforest afterwards,” you added, transporting yourselves back to the conversation at his compound—when your feelings had been dying to spill into his. 

“I’ll make the eggnog,” he replied, and all you could do was let out a blushing chuckle. 

“I’ll make the gingerbread,” you whispered in response, your heart so full that you thought the cogs in your chest might combust. 

You danced in Ajak’s living room until the record stopped playing, and even then you kept swaying. It didn’t matter if there was no music—

As long as you were together. 

As long as you got another five thousand years to make up for lost time.