"Yes. And there were pieces I - sort knew. But never got around to putting together with the rest of you? You're the only one of my mathematicians who ever made me sad I couldn't see it too."
He doesn't know that it's true until he hears himself say it, but there's a sweetness to the melancholy. He's been angry about that, bitter, resigned, but always for strategic, pragmatic reasons. This is just for the thing itself, and for him.
"And I feel a little bit like I maybe don't deserve you. But I'll probably get over that." He smiles, sleepy and cheeky, presses a kiss to Quentin's neck. While he's there, he whispers, "You still make me feel peaceful. More than ever."
The last gift he would ever have looked for, or imagined.
"That's funny, because a lot of the time I know I don't deserve you either."
He answers, a private little secret, an unconscious clutch of his fingers, which he tries to disguise by shifting them down so they can curl up, so Jedao can lie on his side and be spooned in safe while Quentin curls around him.
"Silly," Jedao murmurs, turning obligingly, although he knows Quentin too well to be really surprised by it. He laces his fingers with one of Quentin's hands where his arm is wrapped around Jedao, and tugs it up so Jedao can kiss his knuckles.
"My silly splendid darling. You deserve all the wonders your heart can hold."
He feels a surge of something so intense he can't identify it, except to feel glad that he can hide his expression in Jedao's hair. He likes the way his knees hitch in just behind his, how warm he feels.
Jedao shivers at the word 'carving', prickles down his spine and warmth in his gut even if he's halfway to dozing.
"I've got an arm reserved for you already," he mumbles. He's committed to a few tattoo ideas today. "Would it be...weird, less romantic, if I asked you to do my horse too?"
If only because Quentin liked him, and Fives didn't.
Jedao is exhausted on every level, and just now feels as safe and soft as he knows how to feel. Normally his sleep is always some variety of strained, but now he really does drift off within the first minute of quiet.
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magician_king) wrote2020-01-12 01:19 pm
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He doesn't know that it's true until he hears himself say it, but there's a sweetness to the melancholy. He's been angry about that, bitter, resigned, but always for strategic, pragmatic reasons. This is just for the thing itself, and for him.
"And I feel a little bit like I maybe don't deserve you. But I'll probably get over that." He smiles, sleepy and cheeky, presses a kiss to Quentin's neck. While he's there, he whispers, "You still make me feel peaceful. More than ever."
The last gift he would ever have looked for, or imagined.
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He answers, a private little secret, an unconscious clutch of his fingers, which he tries to disguise by shifting them down so they can curl up, so Jedao can lie on his side and be spooned in safe while Quentin curls around him.
"And you make me feel strong."
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"My silly splendid darling. You deserve all the wonders your heart can hold."
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"Either way, I am incredibly fucking lucky."
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He promises, sleepily.
"If you want, of course."
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"I'd like that very much," he answers softly.
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He says,
"But I could use a tattoo, or something."
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"I've got an arm reserved for you already," he mumbles. He's committed to a few tattoo ideas today. "Would it be...weird, less romantic, if I asked you to do my horse too?"
If only because Quentin liked him, and Fives didn't.
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He says, and yawns deeply, snuggles in a little less frantically, a little more comfortable.
"Think you could nap?"
Because he's going to pass out.
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"Maybe if you could stop being utterly fascinating for five seconds at stretch, darling."
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