The War stole their chances, time and hope; Harry carried questions, and Snape carried regrets. Neither of which could change the past. Yet somewhere between the questions and the regrets, they found forgiveness—not as an absolution, but as a path forward.
Time and patience, can soothe even the most fractured of wounds and the stubbornest of hearts.
But together, only they can forge their own new futures - ones they never saw coming, and a family they'd never thought they'd ever find within each other.
What are your headcanons for levihan if Hange had survived?
thank you SO MUCH @quillsandblades, I love those sorts of questions
firstly, after they've calmed down from the war and the Rumbling, Hange wants to travel. She wants to see all sorts of sights, learn everything, see everything. Levi follows, inevitably. He's always had her back (he's always been her left eye), so now he goes with her. it's natural to follow her by now.
they don't speak about their feelings immediately. They rushed to confess when the world was ending, and now that it's not, something keeps them from doing it. They've held off for so long that they don't know how to let go of their reluctance. Armin and the others roll their eyes, but wave goodbye at them at the airport.
it's all right, though, because they get to travel together, and start a whole another life.
Hange sees all sorts of devices, ancient or not. She goes to museums, sees human history unfolding before her. Artworks, statues, declarations of war, peace treaties, rusty machines and legendary monuments.
Levi watches her and smiles. He sees the old Hange again, the one without the weight of the Wings of Freedom.
Levi starts to look younger without the stress lines. He smiles a bit more. Hange smiles a lot, and she returns to her old self gradually. They're both so proud of each other (which means extra teasing)
She tries weird spicy food, while he sticks to the beverages. She wants to make him eat, because "you can't know you don't like it if you've never tried"
later, she discovers the Rubik's cube. It takes her about two days to solve it (two days straight, without food, and Levi had to force her to sleep)
Eventually, they settle down. They both want to return to Paradis and live there in anonymity.
They find a remote house in the forest, near the river, like they once promised to. They prefer to be calm and isolated-- or at least choose when they want to interact with the world. They live together, of course, it feels natural by now. It would feel unnatural not to, after everything.
The house has two bedrooms.
They go to Historia's for lunch often. She and her husband share weird looks, but they never say anything. Her daughter calls them aunt and uncle. She climbs on Levi's lap, and he doesn't complain, he just holds her nonchalantly and lets her touch the shaved part of his undercut.
When he asks Hange why she's smiling like an idiot, she tells him it's nothing.
Did I mention that he lets Hange cut his hair?
Hange studies plants, birds, has adopted some animals from time to time despite what Levi says.
Somehow, Levi manages to clean the entire house in no time. He also bathes Hange, because some things never change.
"Don't put pressure on yourself, that's an order," Hange tells him. "You're not my superior anymore," he reminds her. That holds more weight than he intended it to. They're free.
The weight of memories becomes to much to bear, eventually. With all the free time they have, all they do is remember those they've lost. The family that broke up.
Hange gets up at nights and goes to Levi's room. They don't exchange many words, she just crawls into bed with him. They sleep side by side. Eventually, the second bedroom turns into a study.
They treat each other's injuries, apply the necessary balms to the scars and the burns every day. It becomes their routine. Hange sometimes kisses the scar on his eye when she's done, just to see him flustered.
Levi doesn't do exactly the same to the burns on her back, but the touch of his fingers is so deliberately featherlight that Hange can't help but shiver. It's something that comes naturally, because he wants to take care of her.
They get married. It's the only possible outcome. They both knew it would happen, they just needed time to adjust to their newfound freedom.
"it wasn't that obvious," Hange complains when Historia makes a remark one day about "how great, it was about time".
"it was, Commander," Historia says. "We all saw it coming."
they share anecdotes, and the evening passes with Hange saying "wait, you were jealous??" and "that's why you said that??"
they both feel flustered when Historia reveals they were basically the parents of the 104th. They knew, but still, it being said out loud hits different.
Mikasa was maid of honour.
(now, whether they have kids of their own is another story.)
They're both awkward af, mostly Levi. At first when Levi wants to kiss her, he gets extra serious, catches her attention like "oi" and maybe grabs her by the hair.
They feel like Erwin's gonna appear out of nowhere and tell them that they're being unprofessional lol
For a while (or a lot) every time Levi wakes up, he feels like he'll open his eyes and it will all have been a dream, and he'll wake up back in the barracks with two eyes and more people to lose.
so Levi seeks next to him, finds Hange, and holds her, breathes in the scent of the forest and the sea salt on her. Only then does he open his eyes, when he feels like it's safe to. He's never told her.
They visit the sea very often. Levi stands up from his wheelchair then, and they hold hands and look. Now, the sea doesn't hold promises and vows, it's just sea. Blue and beautiful. They watch sunsets and sleep in the sand and watch sunrises together.
the house is full of photos of them and their trips, and little souvenirs and plants and Hange's research.
I feel like they would become legends as the time passed. Of course, Hange is a well known "historical figure" as the 14th Commander, but Levi? There are no pictures of him, only oral tales about "a soldier so strong he could defeat 30 titans at once". Yeah, right, as if. Where's the proof?
Hange becomes a herbologist or zoologist or astronomer or everything. Maybe she becomes a professor and does her own research on a field she loves. Some of her students come to her house and they see Levi Freaking Ackerman chilling like "wassup"
and they ask "did you really kill like 100 titans" "were titans even real?" (because scepticism and because they were too young to remember) And Levi just says "no" and goes about his day.
(there are swords on the wall, though)
Levi prefers to stay at home and be at peace. He helps refugees, of course, and "helps around" with Historia's orphanage (kids run around and he calls them brats)
Hange has made a bet with herself as they grow older that Levi will end up with more wrinkles around his eyes than between his brows. She's never told anyone.
(the bet is proceeding well)
eventually they grow old together and watch their "grandkids" (Historia's kids, Jean's kids, Aruani's kids, Mikasa's adopted kids, etc)
The kids call them their grandparents and they absolutely don't mind. Levi chastises them, but not harshly.
He teaches the kids how to flip butterfly knives. What is Jean going to do, tell him not to?
They absolutely adore Hange. She makes up those fun games and teaches them a multitude of things (although a parent must always be around because her games are kinda dangerous)
Levi wears Hange's clothes. The trope where the girl wears her man's T-shirts, and whatever-- that's Levi. And he can pull them off.
Hange wears his clothes too. I mean, Levi has broad shoulders and although the shirts might be kinda short, it's a fashion choice and she looks fabulous. They've forgotten which clothes are whose. Sometimes they even buy them the "wrong" size for the other one to steal.
Okay this is long, I gotta stop. But send me more questions like this, people, I love them
Also, a writing-related thing, but someone made a podfic for The Great Biscuit Calamity and I'm screaming because I've never had anyone just... do that before???? And that's such a fun little fic for that too! The sound quality is also excellent and they went through the trouble of pronouncing all the little Welsh words I threw in and ??!????!???!?!?!?!??!??!?!?!!!!!!!
Anyway it's here.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
We would never go back to that bloodshed, crimson clover
The worst was over
It was over. The war was finally over. The Death Eaters had scattered before Voldemort's body had even hit the ground.
The dust hadn't even settled from the battle, but relief was coursing through every survivor alongside adrenalin. Minerva McGonagall stood over Tom Riddle's corpse, wand still drawn, chest heaving.
It was eerily silent. Everything had ended too quickly, too abruptly, for it to feel real. But it was. It was over.
Within a few days memorials and monuments would be built for the fallen soldiers. Their names would be remembered for generations to come. Caradoc Dearborn. Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Regulus Black.
Regulus, who had died betraying the dark side, who had turned the tide of the war with one simple letter to his brother, would be honoured above all.
The Potters and Longbottoms could come out of hiding. Their sons could have a normal childhood, without a war and prophecy looming over them.
It would all happen in the next few days, weeks, years. The next morning would be good, for the first time in years.
Sirius was the first to break the silence on the battlefield, bracing his arms on his knees with a heavy sigh.
"Is that it, then?" he called across the courtyard. "We're done? He's dead?"
McGonagall put her wand away and straightened her robes.
"He's dead," she called back. "We can rest."
The flood gates opened. Everyone moved to pull their loved ones into tight hugs. Wands were dropped as they cheered and cried and let the relief and exhaustion overtake them.
Remus was holding Sirius before he registered it, their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed tightly as they finally had a moment to breathe.
"We're safe, Moons."
Remus laughed breathily. He tilted his head back to stare at the sky for a minute, just feeling the sun on his skin and breathing freely.
"Marry me," he said eventually.
"What?"
Sirius took a step back in disbelief, not releasing Remus's waist.
"Marry me, Pads," Remus repeated.
Sirius laughed. "Is that even legal?"
"Who gives a fuck about legal? We're alive and safe and I love you," Remus responded. "Marry me."
"I -" Sirius started, before pulling Remus into a kiss. "Yes, fine. Let's throw a big party for all our friends and be happy for once. Fuck legalities, it will be real for us. Let's get married."
Remus pulled Sirius back into another kiss before picking him up and spinning him around. Sirius's laugh echoed around them.
Summary: A cabin in the woods, a warm couch, cuddles, a fluffy dog, and no Reapers in sight: Shepard and Joker’s post war happily ever after is looking as relaxing as ever. Until natural forces add to the mix, that is.
Warning: fluff!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Raindrops trickled against the living room windows and for an instant, a bolt of lightning lit up the garden outside as if it were the middle of the day. The dark silhouettes of trees danced against the electric sky, jolted around like feathers by the gushes of wind.
Curled up under a soft blanket with Jeff’s arms wrapped around her and the small cabin’s stone walls protecting them from the storm raging on outside, Angela had never felt so peaceful.
A few seconds went by before the roaring of thunder reached their small cabin, making the glass window panels tremble and Jeff’s muscles stiffen against her side.
“Hey,” she whispered softly, shifting closer to his chest and taking in his warmth and scent. His clothes still held the aroma of lemon curd, a pleasant reminder of the kitchen adventure they’d embarked on earlier in the afternoon. Beneath the sweet smell of baked goods, there was him, the faintest fragrance of his soap, his aftershave, his skin. Fresh, comforting, intoxicating.
Another thunder rumbled through the plump clouds, and Jeff’s body twitched next to her own once more.
“All good down there, flyboy?”
“Uh… yeah? We’re in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, far enough from civilisation that even Hackett can’t reach us to ask you to please free his little nephew’s pet rat from its capsized hamster wheel, and I’ve just had half a whole cake for dinner. It can’t get any better than this, I’d say.”
He adjusted the blanket over her shoulder and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “No, wait, I take that back. It can get better than this. It does. I’m cuddling the Saviour of the Galaxy slash Devourer of Lemon Curd Sponge Cakes slash Hottest Girlfriend Ever. And don’t even get me started on the couch. Reclinable, heated, and real leather.”
He punctuated his statement with a chef kiss and pinched his fingers against the tip of her nose.
She giggled and moved her chin forward to nibble the point of his index finger, but he was quicker and moved his hand away before it met her teeth. With a disappointed purr, she settled for playfully biting his ear instead. That was a trick he didn’t expect.
“Wait wait, I’m adjustable, warm, and covered in skin too. Why does the couch rank over me?”
“Uh, cause it doesn’t describe its features in a way that makes me feel like my surname’s Dahmer?”
With a snort, Angela buried her face in Jeff’s chest. His arm reached around her to rest his hand atop her head and when he slowly ran his fingers through her hair, tiny little goosebumps rose to attention on the skin of her nape.
“Uh. Can’t believe I’m being sidelined by my own boyfriend for a couch.”
“I mean, Ange, you have to admit this couch is pretty awesome,” he said, untangling a little knot in her hair, “but you ain’t half bad either.”
“Eh, you’re quite great too, babe,” she whispered back.
Angela felt his body shift, and the weight of his head resting on top of hers. She dragged one hand across his arm until her fingers found the hem of his t-shirt, slipping below it to feel his bare skin under her palm, no fabric to separate her from his warmth. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, a slow rhythm that quieted any other sound, shoving her thoughts away until there was only him, her, and the rain.
Her eyelids were getting heavier with each passing second, and soon keeping them open felt like a hopeless battle. For once, this was a fight she was happy to lose.
“You did it again.” She stated, without opening her eyes.
“Uh… Did what exactly?”
“Every time it thunders, you startle.”
“I think you were dreaming cause nope, I don’t.”
As if the clouds themselves agreed to prove her point, the sky outside flashed white and a few instants later every muscle in Jeff’s body tensed with the roaring thunder.
“Aw, crap,” he swore under his breath.
And just like that, all her sleepiness vaporised like a husk hit by an incendiary round. Oh, this was going to be good. Sitting up crosslegged, she turned to face him and cupped her chin in her hand.
“So, let’s see if I understood the situation correctly. Jeff Moreau, the man who led the entire Galactic Fleet against the Reapers and lived to tell the tale, is afraid of storms?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say afraid, it’s more of a, uh, … wariness.”
When the next thunder rumbled on outside, he actually let out a small whimper and jumped a bit on his seat, enough to wake Penguin from his nap on the carpet and perk up his ears.
“Wariness. Right.”
Jeff’s cheek and ears had turned redder than the pixelated mushroom printed on his t-shirt, and the expression painted on his face was that of a man praying for a small relay to materialise over the coffee table and launch him straight to the other side of the galaxy. Or directly into a different one.
He looked pitiful.
“…With a hint of scared shitless maybe?” He offered sheepishly.
She shouldn’t have busted out laughing as she did, and she felt terrible for it just as soon as the fit of giggles escaped through her pursed lips, but the pink flush that had taken over his freckled cheeks, and the way he furrowed his brow at her was simply too adorable to ignore.
“That’s more like it,” she said between a chuckle and the next.
Suddenly, the corners of his mouth twisted into a gloomy half smile, and he stretched his legs out, tapping his feet around to find his slippers.
“Aight, I, uh… need to, y’know. Bathroom... break?” He blurted out, awkwardly stroking the hair at the back of his head. His other hand went to the cushioned seat between Angela and himself, and she grabbed his arm - gently - before he could use it to leverage himself off the couch.
“Jeff? You alright?”
He brushed her hand away, walking away towards the door to the bedroom. The unusual haste in his irregular steps was an eloquent enough answer to her question, way more telling than the scant “yep” he mumbled her way as he hobbled around the sleeping form of Penguin.
Shit. I think I fucked up.
She motioned to get up and follow him into the other room, grab him by his hand and make things right, say sorry for whatever she said that hurt him.
But she knew better.
Jeff needed time to sort out his thoughts alone, and going after him wouldn’t help either of them.
She stopped in her tracks right between the coffee table and the dark red armchair and sank down into it with a quiet sigh. What had gone wrong? They were cuddling and teasing each other as they always did, silly jokes about each other represented a significant chunk of their love language, and neither of them was particularly sensitive to being picked on.
So why? Why had he suddenly gone from joking along with her to being that upset?
She rested her hands on her lap, and cursed under her breath as a hangnail she’d been absentmindedly picking at left a bright red spot on her shorts - come on, those were one of the good pairs.
A soft weight on her thigh and a whimper alerted her of Penguin’s presence at her side. She lowered her gaze and a black leathery snout and two bright chestnut eyes materialized in her field of view.
The pup’s big head tilted to one side when she met his eyes, and he produced another drawn-out whine.
“It is time for your dinner already, Peng?” The rhythmic wagging of his tail against the leg of the coffee table confirmed that yes, it was this late already even before the numbers “20:37” flashed back at her from her omnitool.
“Alright, alright, big boy,” Angela said at the eager dog, who’d already bolted into the kitchen and was jumping on his feet in front of his food bowl, “I’m not letting you starve!”
She opened the refrigerator and searched around for the package of dog-specific lab-grown meat helpfully labeled as “either dog food or frozen peas” and, after a considerable amount of time spent wondering how exactly the fridge managed to turn so messy in the mere week they’d spent in the cabin so far, she took out a portion, reheated it, and generously doused it with kibbles.
The bowl had barely touched the ground before Penguin had half emptied it already. This isn’t a dog, she thought, this is a fluffy vacuum cleaner.
“Try to chew it a bit, Peng! Or are those teeth reserved for tearing apart socks?” She snickered, looking at how the dog’s mismatched ears flopped up and down as he stuck out his tongue to salvage every single molecule of food left in the bowl.
Picking up the empty plate earned her a disappointed moan from Penguin. “Alright, that’s it, the ceramic isn’t edible!”
She’d never been a dog person. It’s not that she disliked them as pets- on the contrary, she found them beyond adorable- she’d simply never felt the desire to have one of her own.
A pet-free life was the standard for a spacer, after all, especially if said spacer was also an Alliance officer. Always on the move, always in the fight, never at peace.
Life on the front line wasn’t meant for a dog.
But that was before the war.
The Angela Shepard that had survived the Reapers wasn’t a spacer anymore. She had a home, one with firm foundations and a slate roof instead of wings, thrusters and a drive core. She had a garden, a tool shed, and even a skycar. She had a bed to share every night with the man she loved. And she had a dog.
A dog who was currently trying to squeeze himself under the tiny space between the floor and the bottom of the fridge, in a fruitless attempt to capture an elusive last kibble.
She chuckled as Penguin snorted at the stray piece of food, and suddenly, it dawned on her.
Just as the sheer adorableness of Penguin had her in stitches now, the sight of flustered Jeff, with that rosy flush creeping up his neck and cheeks and ears, and his green eyes big as a pyjack's caught stealing cookies from a jar, had been so utterly precious that she couldn’t keep herself from bursting out in giggles.
But Jeff didn’t know that.
And what he must have thought after seeing her chuckle till her eyes teared up was that she’d been laughing at him, at his irrational fear, at one of his insecurities.
Behind all his bragging and boasting, Jeff was riddled with self-doubts. His defiant confidence was often nothing more than an act (a very convincing one, that fooled even him, but an act nonetheless), a mask he wore in front of most people to protect himself, to shield his soft, sensitive core.
She wasn’t most people. He didn’t need to pretend in front of her.
Until she’d laughed at his vulnerability, at least.
Shit. I really fucked up.
Hot chocolate.
Hot chocolate never failed to lift Jeff’s spirits.
His favourite Galaxy of Fantasy pro team was just disqualified from the yearly tournament during the semifinals? Hot chocolate would make him forget it in an instant. The Blasto limited edition statuette had sold out before he’d managed to order one? Just place a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of him, and he’d stop caring about the mini figure before swallowing the first sip.
So she warmed some milk and cocoa powder, grabbed his favourite cup from the plate rack - the one with the spaceship that fired red beams when you poured warm liquids in it - and filled it to the brim with the dense, dark brown beverage. She also added a swirl of whipped cream on top, for good measure, and set it on a tray with a handful of cookies.
Balancing the tray in one hand, she tentatively knocked on the bedroom door. “Jeff? May I come in?”
She heard movement on the other side of the door, but no answer. “I brought a peace offering. The dark, hot and steamy kind.”
This time, an hummed “alright” preceded the sound of the door sliding open.
“This is to apologise,” she said, setting the tray on his nightstand. “I shouldn’t have laughed at you earlier on. Shouldn’t have made you feel bad about such a stupid little thing.”
Jeff looked up at her with a cocked eyebrow, ignoring the chocolate cup.
“What?” He asked her.
“I’m sorry. I… I wasn’t even thinking about your fear of thunder when I laughed. It was just… I don’t know. I didn’t realize that was such a touchy subject for you. I just… I thought you looked adorable when flustered, and laughed at that, not at …”
“Ange.” Jeff interrupted her. “Ange, stop. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m not mad at you. It’s just…” he sighed and lowered his gaze, staring at his fingers as he fiddled with the hem of his sweatshirt.
“It’s a stupid ass fear.” He admitted, pulling a loose string from his hoodie and curling it around the tip of his thumb. “You said that yourself, I’m the man who went face to face with the whole Reaper fleet, and I shake like some scared puppy when there’s some big scary noise outside. Come on, that’s pathetic.”
Jeff looked up at her again with a resigned smile that didn’t reach his eyes and reminded her of a sad kitty left in the rain. She grabbed his hand and uncoiled the piece of gray thread from his finger.
“For what it’s worth, I really don’t think it is. It’s an irrational fear. Nothing you can control. Everyone’s got one.”
“Yeah, but thunder? Not even Penguin is afraid of thunder, and he’s a dog! He’s supposed to run off with his tail between his legs and hide behind the couch when he hears thunder, but here he is, napping on the carpet like he doesn’t give a shit!”
“Well, Penguin is a brave boy.”
He perked up, eyebrow knitted together in sudden realization, and Angela had a flashback to seeing a remarkably similar expression of abrupt recognition painted on the features of Salarian professor Mordin Solus. In that specific instance, the eureka moment had been related to a breakthrough in the reconstruction of the Collectors’ phylogenetic tree, but she doubted Jeff’s current new insight would be of a similar nature.
Hoped so, at least.
She had enough of those semi-sentient bugs for two lifetimes.
“Oh my God, maybe he’s deaf. What if he’s deaf? Can dogs learn sign language? Should we ask Chakwas to check his ears next time she visits?”
Almost talking as quickly as Mordin too, she thought hearing him ramble, and the memory of her departed friend added a sour aftertaste to her chuckle. Penguin. Hard of hearing. Right. The absurdity of Jeff’s hypothesis - and the sheer sweetness of his concern - restored the honey like flavor of her amusement.
“Well, try shaking the bag of kibbles around lunchtime, then report back to me.”
A muffled whine coming from underneath the bed betrayed Penguin’s presence, and the perfectly functional state of his auditory system.
“Alright, point taken.” Jeff conceded before finally diving into his chocolate.
“Vacuum cleaners.”
“What?” His question was almost intelligible, his voice muffled by the cookie he was halfway through chewing.
“Vacuum cleaners. My irrational fear is vacuum cleaners.”
“Vacuum cleaners,” he repeated, his hand holding the half-bitten cookie stopping mid-air.
“Yep, you heard that right. Been scared shitless of them since I was a little girl.” Since the time my uncle thought it funny to chase me all around my grandma’s house brandishing that old-school Dyson of his, she recalled. Her mom’s younger brother Pete was, unsurprisingly, the only person who found the whole situation hilarious. Until Grandma heard about it, at least- he wasn’t laughing so much after that. “Apparently, my body grew up, but my subconscious didn’t get the memo, and I’m still scared shitless to this day.”
“That why you insist on doing the laundry and dishes and always leave the floor cleaning to me?”
“Yup.”
“Uh,” he scowled and shook his head. His fake disappointment act had worked on her exactly once, about three years ago, but he still liked to play the role of the offended part as much as she enjoyed going along with it. She squinted at him, crossing her arms in front of her.
“I knew there was a reason beyond sadistic joy in having your physically disabled boyfriend take the vacuum cleaner on a stroll around the apartment.”
“First, you volunteered for that. And second, yup. And that reason is: irrational fears. Does that make me stupid?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say stupid…”
Rolling her eyes and stifling a laugh, she interrupted him halfway through his dragged out ‘but’.
“That was a rhetorical question, don’t you dare say ‘yes’ or I swear I’m going to lock up the chocolate powder for a week.” As if to prove her point, she snagged a cookie off his tray and stuck it whole in her mouth. “Point is, I’m still the woman who saved the Galaxy, who also happens to be scared of vacuum cleaners. And you’re still the man who flew her there in style, against a horde of Reapers, and lived to tell the tale. And who happens to spook when he hears thunder.”
“Alright,” he looked down at his folded hands, and the slightest hint of a blush crept up under his beard until it reached the splashes of light freckles on his cheekbones, “I still think thunder is a stupid phobia to have but… I see your point.”
She gently lifted his chin, stroking her thumb along his jaw, guiding him closer to her until the tip of their noses touched and his warm breath made her skin tingle.
“Well then,” she whispered in his ear. “In that case, let’s be stupid together. The galaxy owes that to us.”
Her lips found his, and if he had a witty comeback ready on the tip of his tongue, she drowned it out as he kissed him.
Blake Ryan had spent 40 years largely indifferent to the various human rituals that marked the passage of time. But ever since he married Luca Moreno, his birthday was becoming his favorite day of every year.
The pilot almost jumped out of his skin when his husband's warm mouth slid over his morning wood, still comfortable under a thick blanket in their bed, on their ship. His fingers tangled in Luca's hair, abdomen flexing under the sensations of an expert tongue and a flick of the wrist. "Aye, love. Ye ken what I like."
Luca hummed a sound of delighted approval around his husband, making Ryan shiver underneath him with a hiss. Luca's curls bounced with the sudden movement when he popped off Ryan's cock, lolling his tongue out with a grin. "Yes, Starlight. I do." He watched the pilot's eyes widen as he moved to climb over his husband.
Luca knew how he felt about seeing his boy in pretty things. They'd spent a whole week on a logging colony just to have a specialist install custom cabinetry for all of Luca's jewels, baubles, stretchy strings, and lace. But Ryan had never seen the pink garters underneath his fingertips on the boy's thigh as Luca settled over his rock hard lap.
"Darlin."
Ryan's accent made Luca almost purr as he rested his weight with his palms flat to his husband's chest and bent to kiss him.
“Alliance Shuttle Alpha Victor Bravo Seven-Six-One, you’re cleared to initiate docking at bay Echo Two-Seven. Welcome to Arcadis Terminal. Please enjoy your stay.”
The soothing voice of the station’s air traffic VI rang out over the shuttles speakers as Luca hurried to store his guitar back into the hidey hole under the extra seats, quickly cleaning up the remaining traces of their travel time while the pilot finished the necessary visitor protocols to access the station.
Luca didn’t notice when his boyfriend finished working and stood, watching the younger man straighten the borrowed leather jacket and smooth the wild strays from his bouncing curls His nerves were evident and it only made Ryan feel warmer. He couldn’t help the way he wrapped himself around Luca as he preened.
“You’re stunning, my boy.” He let his hands drift to Luca’s waist, pulling and turning to urge Luca to face him before stealing a chaste kiss that lingered. Ryan released his boyfriend only to tangle the fingers of one of their hands, pulling Luca with him out the shuttle’s door. “Dinner, dancing, and tattoos, for sure. I ken you’re probably ready for everything but, I was hoping we could go shopping first. There’s a special little place I wannae show you.”
“And Oliver, my love, amore mio, he keeps telling me, ‘Ennie, I need you to dig the holes for my garden, because you’re so strong you’re a phoenix’ and I keep telling him... ‘but tesoro, you are a phoenix too!’ but, ma, he does not listen.”
