tags: shifter!au, dhampir!mcgillis, established relationship, hurt & comfort
summary: Gaelio knows what the acceptance of bonding means: to be the dhampir’s partner in love and in life—his one and only, until death do they part.
As such, it’s with a mix of exasperation and fondness when he sees McGillis hesitate before him, likely battling with his crippling self-doubt whether Gaelio means every word of what he says—but they have the whole night, and Gaelio is a patient man.
-*-
He’s in the middle of adjusting his overcoat when McGillis approaches him at his cubicle.
“I won’t be able to accompany you home tonight,” the blonde informs him. A cursory glance over his face reveals McGillis’ telltale signs of stress—from the tick of his brow, to the firmly set corners of his lips that mark the beginnings of a frown.
Gaelio gathers that it’s due to the recent spike in Noire activity at Sector Twelve—a natural consequence to the construction of a manufacturing plant that would cut into fae territory. Gjallarhorn had pressed for the company to negotiate with their shareholders and settle in a different area, but the CEO was stubbornly resolute about the location, disregarding all warnings from their end. In all honesty, damage to the construction site was the least of their concern. The main problem stemmed from Gjallarhorn’s role as the middleman to ensure that the fae’s rightful retaliation did not become a pretext for a human-led offensive against Noirefolk—a repeat of the Calamity War.
“Guess it’s overtime for you,” Gaelio responds lightly, nudging McGillis on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, I can get home safe on my own.” He flashes his partner a cheeky grin. “I’m a full-fledged hunter, remember?”
McGillis frowns. “Be that as it may….” The dhampir trails off, eyes clouded with unspoken worry.
There he goes again, Gaelio notes with fond exasperation. It’s hard to fault McGillis, given the ever-present uncertainty of traveling alone at nighttime when the barrier that divides the Noire and the mortal realm frays at the seams—and that as a human, no less. Even so, he doesn’t like to see his partner fall into the rabbit hole of fabricating worst case scenarios in his head and blaming himself for something that has yet to even happen, if at all.
“...Can I get a goodbye kiss?” Gaelio asks softly, trying to pull the dhampir from his thoughts.
It takes a moment, but McGillis’ gaze flickers back to him. A small quirk of his lips assures Gaelio that he was heard; McGillis looks about the cubicle, then reaches for Gaelio’s hand, pulling him out of the office and into the nearest stairwell.
Gaelio suppresses the bubble of laughter rising in his chest—sneaking kisses at their workplace of all places, in spite of their towering height! And yet, he allows himself to be led out of the room, away from prying eyes, closing the door behind him with a sense of giddy delight.
As soon as McGillis hears the click of the lock, the dhampir closes in. Gaelio meets him halfway so that they stand close, close enough to share the air, feel the brush of hair against cheek.
“Hey,” the hunter whispers softly. Three years into their relationship, but the feeling of ardor and warmth grows ever brighter; Gaelio wonders if McGillis can hear his pounding heartbeat.
McGillis remains silent, but reaches up to cup the nape of Gaelio’s neck, coaxing him down to his lips; Gaelio obliges, pliant and easy, leaning down to meet his lover.
When soft lips finally brush against his, a shiver runs down his spine. This, McGillis must also feel, as the dhampir wraps his free arm around the dip of Gaelio’s waist to draw him flush against his chest, angling his head to deepen the kiss, as if he means to unravel Gaelio by the seams.
Gaelio sways on the spot, feeling light-headed and weak at his knees. He fumbles for hold when McGillis draws back, clutching at the front of the dhampir’s shirt.
“What,” Gaelio starts, a little breathless, “that’s it?” A strand of hair falls from his carefully arranged coif, settling on his lips.
The dhampir hesitates, emerald eyes flickering over the flush of the hunter’s cheeks, before his face softens with warm affection. Raising a hand, McGillis carefully tucks the stray hair behind Gaelio’s ear, following the line of his jaw to cradle the hunter’s head in his palm. Gaelio hums, leaning into the touch; the corner of his lips quirk into a small smile when McGillis moves into his space again, nuzzling the curve of his shoulder.
After an agonizingly sweet minute, the blonde dhampir steps back once more, echoes of reluctance as he parts from Gaelio.
“Get home safely,” McGillis murmurs, giving Gaelio’s shoulder a light squeeze. The warmth of his touch lingers through the fabric of Gaelio’s coat, even as the dhampir withdraws his hand.
Seized with a sudden grip of fondness for his partner, Gaelio leans down to kiss McGillis on the forehead.
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