Regulus wakes up in the morning to a rough crashing noise, startling him. He immediately rushes out of the warm covers, skipping steps down the stairs and swinging into the kitchen.
His unruly haired husband is standing in the middle of the room, face paused in a grimace, his hands stuck in place. A pot is shattered on the floor, shards of terra cotta clay are scattered all over the room. The anxiety that was settled in Regulus' stomach withers away rather quickly.
James' eyes finally meet Regulus', an apologetic look in them. "I'm sorry, Reg, it was supposed to be a surprise." He frowns, standing back up to his full height.
"What're you doing, hm?" Regulus walks up to him, wrapping his arms around James' neck, as James' fall to his hips.
"I was gonna plant your apples, you know? Spring's coming up."
"That's okay, Jamie. Now we can do it together. But you're cleaning this up first, okay?" Regulus smiles, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss on James' lips, a wink and then back up the stairs to brush his teeth.
He has these days sometimes, far less frequent now but still present nonetheless, where he awakes in the low tide of a dream.
In his mind, Ayrton smiles bright. always to him, always brilliant. They find each other in a wide valley, golden wheat swaying gently in the breeze. In years gone past, Senna would speak to him, some sly jab, soft and lightly teasing. As the memory of his voice faded, as did that aspect of the dream.
Somethings remains constant though across the dream that plagued his resting hours.
Ayrton is always as he remembers him, tan skin shining in the golden sun, eyes glinting with mischief.
Ayrton always finds him, gliding gently through the grain and reaching out to him. Calloused hands grasp into calloused hands, Alain as young as the day he lost him, exactly like the day he lost him.
Alain lets himself be guided through the field, following Ayrton, studying him. They come to rest under a large oak that stretches against the golden sky. Its not always the same, how they interact, how they find themselves there, but it always ends the same.
Alain will sit and rest his head against the junction of Ayrton's shoulder and jaw. He falls into a slumber, and awakes again in the real world.
It used to leave a sour taste in his mouth when he rose, nausea teaming in the weeks in months after, but as time beats on Alain greats it fondly. Its the only way to see him again, there in his dreams.
In the early hour, Alain takes a sip of his coffee and watches the sunrise.
These days, he finds an old man where he stands. It comes at him in creaking bones and lethargic evenings. He had never planed on being this old. its foreign to him, a blessing as much as it is a curse.
So many more years line his face. so many years so many didn't get.
he is 69 years old now. 35 years older than Ayrton got to be. 35 extra years lining his face. 30 of those years he had spent without him now, a life time entirely.
The sun rises, casting a golden yellow hue across the kitchen in the early morning. Yellow and Red and Golden like tan skin. Alain whispers a silent promise as he closes his eyes and basks in its warmth.
the minotaur was punished just for existing, for being born a “monster”. sitting in his labyrinth, roaming day after day. sometimes he fights intruders, men forcing their way through the only home he’s ever known. there are cracks in the labyrinth, little holes to see through and into the beyond.
do you think you can see the sun through the cracks?
the question is a trick, trapped underground. he will never see the light of day, do you think he even understands what he’s missing? locked away for the act of being born. he doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand.
the minotaur met a big, strong man one day, an army with him. he had never seen so many people, armed and ready. his home, his poor home, trampled and invaded.
the minotaur fights back, it does nothing. he feels every bit of it as he’s torn apart. and as he falls to the ground, head looking to the side, he sees another crack. there’s a light, glowing and bright, shining from the other side, a warm sun welcoming him with open arms.
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"Honey I just want a kiss, please." Dean snorted, his emerald eyes giving me a pleading look. I wanted so desperately to kiss him, but it's hard when your boyfriend is more than a foot taller than you are.
I walked out of the kitchen talking to Dean in hopes he'd follow me, "How Dean?" I questioned, pulling out a library chair. What I had fallen to notice was that everyone else was out in the library, so now our very private conversation was on the floor for everyone to hear.
I guess Dean hadn't noticed either, as the conversation continued on as normal. "I don't know Y/n, but I just want a kiss. You know I got one this morning, why not now?" Dean protested as he inched his way closer to me.
"Because you're too tall, okay that's why I can't kiss you right now!" I said huffing and turning around, pausing as I saw eight wide eyes looking up and back and forth to Dean and me.
I sighed and slumped into the already uncomfortable library chairs. Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, pulling a chair out and sitting down next to me.
Thinking quick on my feet I just asked my question without failure, and without question to think of the unfortunate comfortability of said question.
My question at first was more directed towards Sam, seeing as he's nearly a foot taller than me. Also, the simple fact that Sam's currently dating Eileen thought the best person to ask was him.
"Sammy, my boyfriend...'
"No, I don't want to be involved!" Sam said going to get up but a smaller hand grabbing his bicep, Eileen signing "Listen". He huffed like his older brother had done not seconds ago, and sat back down.
"Continue."
"My boyfriend is too tall for me to kiss him on the lips. So what do I do?" I asked Sam, just Sam. I was looking at him only. I was blasted with many answers very quickly.
"I say you, punch him in the stomach. Then, when he doubles over in pain, kiss him. That's all I've got." Sam said leaning back in his chair, the boys shared a look of 'Oh it's so on, Get ready!'
"Okay, One at a time." I said, "Sam you go first since you're the one I asked." I said looking around at the rest of our put-together, Mr. potato's head family.
Eileen peaked up. She signed "Tackle him, that's what I did to Sammy over here." I giggled and she smiled in return. Now instead of the boys glaring at each other, they were more glaring at us, we took a second and looked at them, then back to each other.
Another giggle was shared.
Rowena interjected, throwing her two cents of peace into every conversation we had, but especially the one's about I guess you could say our love lives.
"In my personal experiences, you should just dump him!"Rowena said, smiling much like the Cheshire cat. She winked and then walked off.
The last to speak her thoughts was our sweet old Charlie, well maybe not sweet nor old. None the less she spoke her thoughts, "You know what I'd do, coming in between Dean and me, I'd kick him in his bow-legged shines." She said and giggled while walking off, most likely to find some sort of trouble to get into.
Very quick and fast, Dean stood up and said loudly. "NO, To all of those. Sweetness, Just askbme to lean down from now on." Dean said huffing and kissing me gently before sitting down next to me. his hand resting nicely and warmly on my thigh.
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