#graveread

@𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍​​      

      “  selfish and cruel ? you ?  i’m not sure you see the same man i see when you look at yourself, my darling.  ”  alistair smiles warmly as he grips simon’s jaw, using just enough force to guide his lover to turn his head towards the mirror.  “  look at yourself, simon. really look.  ”

      alistair’s grip loosens slightly, and he brushes his thumb gently along that sharp jawline, a slow, steady movement.  “  look at you  --  you’re brilliant, my love. i want you to see what i see. look into those gorgeous eyes. you have such kind eyes, did you know ?  ” 

      alistair lets go of simon’s jaw, trails hands down to rest on firm chest.  “  look at this body, a body you use to protect people. can you see how strong and beautiful you are ?  this is a life  -  giving body, beloved.  ”

      “  i want you, simon. when will you get that through your thick skull ?  ”  alistair’s voice comes out harsher than he intends, and he’s not sorry. maybe softness isn’t what is needed right now. maybe it’s time for a little force, a little hardness. hardness was their beginning, wasn’t it ? why shouldn’t it help now ? 

      “  look at me.  ”  he reaches out and grips simon’s chin  --  this, this alistair does with care, tenderness, though his voice still remains hard.  “  what happened to forever ? do you think i wasn’t serious about that ? i choose you. i will always choose you.  ”

Simon sighs, draws Noctis close and presses a kiss to his forehead. Noctis has always been like a son to him—hearing this fills him with worry.

“You haven’t done anything drastic, have you?” His first thoughts are on Noctis’ relationship with Gladiolus. Those two, they tend to argue a lot, but it always seems ( mostly ) good natured.

“You know I love you very much, right? I know it’s hard—losing your father was hard, losing your home, but you’ve still got your friends, okay? And you’ve still got me too.” Simon smiles. If Noctis needs him to be steadier than stone, then that’s what he will be. “Whatever happened, we can stitch things back together, okay? I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let go.”   ( x. )

      “  i mean, i picked a fight with gladio again.  ”  noctis shrugs like it’s no big deal, because he’s always picking fights with gladio, so it shouldn’t matter. sometimes he just does it because he’s pissed off and gladio’s not going to act like he’s fragile the way other people seem to do lately. he’s just tired. he’s not going to break down in tears or anything like that. 

      “  everyone else lost all those things too. i’m not the only one who lost family or a home that day. i’m supposed to keep it together, simon. i’m supposed to keep my cool.  ”  if everyone else can deal with it, then maybe that means that he’s just weak, and there’s just no time to deal with noctis being unable to keep up. he’ll deal with it. he will, because he has to, and no one needs to know if it feels like he’s on the edge. 

      “  you think so ?  ”  alistair is still not used to wearing things like this, things so casual. the fabrics feel foreign, strange on his skin  --  not necessarily bad, but odd. but there’s no practicality in trying to find and wear anything he might’ve before. he looks himself over in the mirror again, at the red flannel with the sleeves rolled up and the blue jeans that ride low on his hips and thinks maybe simon’s not wrong.

      there’s something nice about how normal it feels to stand in the tiny dim bathroom with his lover’s arms draped around his waist. it feels warm and real and natural. alistair tilts his head back to lay upon simon’s shoulder. all the luxuries  --  in this moment, he doesn’t miss a bit of it. he’s found something better. 

It’s been a month of being in the hospital and Simon is feeling restless. Kingsglaive members come and go, but they never stay for long. Simon doesn’t blame them—they have important jobs to do, after all. It wouldn’t be fair to hold that against them, but still. . .he’s incredibly lonely.

The only relief he gets is from the pain meds and, funnily enough, visits from his pompous frenemy. While he wouldn’t call Alistair his enemy he wouldn’t exactly call him a full on friend either—frenemy is a term that works well enough for him.

What he does not expect, however, is Alistair to offer him any form of physical affection. Perhaps he doesn’t give the privileged man enough credit—for someone that’s probably never left the citadel for more than vacations, he’s actually quite observant.

“Well. . .this bed has room enough for two, I think.” Simon clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his face if flushing. “If that’s what I think you’re offering, anyways.” He looks away—anywhere but Alistair’s face, which is almost definitely going to be annoyingly smug. “I would not be opposed to, ah, affection that is physical.”   ( x. )

      “  i think i can provide that.  ”  alistair’s voice is soft as he toes his shoes off, but he can’t quite keep the smug grin away. it’s not often simon gives into him, stubborn bastard that he is, and alistair is going to revel in this rare win for as long as he can. 

      he slowly climbs into the bed, and curls himself around simon. simon is warm, solid, and there’s something actually quite pleasant about cuddling someone like this. alistair hasn’t held anyone or been held since he was a child. he had no idea he was missing out. of course, he won’t say anything like that. he’s no fool. simon would never let him live it down. 

      “  yes, you are. ”  alistair will concede that; he’ll give that willingly. doesn’t mean he’s not angry too. he picks fights with simon the same way he always has  --  standing too close to be anything remotely passable as proper, blue eyes bright with with righteous anger and voice low  --  alistair’s never been one for shouting. it doesn’t matter if they’re in a hospital; alistair will argue all damn day with simon if that’s what the bastard deserves. 

      “  that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. i didn’t do any of this to you.  ”  and perhaps that’s why alistair’s so peeved about the whole thing  --  he’s been nice and proper and all the things that normally simon makes him want to forget all about. because simon’s had enough thrown at him, because he’s had it hard enough without alistair picking fights. 

      well, that doesn’t mean alistair’s going to take any shit lying down. that’s not his style. never has been, and never will be. 

      “  i’ve been here, with you, because i want to be, not because i need to be. i chose to be here. if you want me to go, then just say the word, but don’t you start thinking i’ll let you act like i’m the bad guy here.  ”

     “  not me. i am not going anywhere.  ”  alistair’s voice is soft, and his touch even softer as he reaches out to rest a hand on simon’s knee. he brushes his thumb back and forth, and for a few moments, he’s silent. he studies simon’s face closely, meets those light - colored eyes and maintains that gaze until simon looks away. 

     “  you have me, simon.  ”  alistair knows he’s about to cross a line, a line they’ve not crossed yet. he licks his lips to wet them, and then he reaches out to cup simon’s face. and then he’s struck with the sudden realization that there’s absolutely nothing to fear. he’s always been safe with simon. simon should know he’s safe with him too. 

     it’s a miracle, that they’ve become what they have, that they have made something beautiful and good out of what they once were. alistair attributes that to simon’s far better nature more than anything alistair himself has done. he loves him. isn’t that something ? he loves him. 

     “  you have me for as long as you want me, as long as you’ll have me. i’m yours.  ”