The words had balanced at the tip of his tongue already. He'd wanted to tell Faolan how happy he'd be, to know Fae as his husband. In the end he's hesitated, stopped himself, unwilling to place further pressure on the man.
But since Faolan is asking. Since Faolan has dared this far, and since everything he's said, everything's he's been with Dmitri has suggested Fae's hesitation comes more from worry - from wanting perhaps too keenly - than from not wanting what Dima's asked—
Well; it's very, very easy to answer: "It would, Fae.
"It would make me very happy, and tremendously proud, to have you as my husband. To walk with you in daylight, hand-in-hand; to kiss you on the cheek in every street and shop, before the eyes of all, seeing, feeling only one another.
"Please, Dearest: Don't think you lack the power to protect me. Already you guard me from the night's cold. From men and meenlocks. From myself, and what was once a hollow in my heart.
"And you know, you must know you bring me bliss. I've never known such joy before you; I scarcely knew brightness, at all. And my heart never did sing before we met.
"Faolan, listen to me. Listen to your Daddy; listen to your mate, hm?" There's a crooking smile - playful, deeply fond - and a nudge of the back of Dima's fingers to Fae's jaw; a movement that shifts into a cupping of Fae's cheek.
In Dima's other hand, the ring remains. Held now in a hand less tense-kept in anticipation. Held, and tilted slightly for a catch of light.
He continues, "I regret nothing that I've done whole-hearted, whole-minded. When I act in accordance with the truth that sears me— My Love, I know my certainties like flame; they burn with me; they become a part of me.
"I am certain of my love for you.
"I am certain how how utterly I want you and require you beside me, in all names, anywhere we two might do.
"I will always love you, Faolan; I know that too. My Puppy and my Wolf: I want everything you are, and I will keep you."
"Trust your mate on that, hm? Or. Simply know your Dima will always give you more cause to believe. Know that we have time, such ceaseless time, to find what life can be in love; in one another's arms; with one another's fire."
There's a nudge to Fae's forehead. The slightest, lightest tug of Fae's lip, which turns to a brush, lingering and sweet.
"I will never and I could never regret you, Faolan. It isn’t in my nature. It isn't what I am.
"You exist too deep within me; you have always been, I think, within my blood, waiting to awaken. And nothing, nothing can dislodge you from my heart.
"Just as no force, no fiend, no would-be-deity can force me from my Fae's."
Here Dima shifts his hands. Moves the first from Fae's cheek to his hand, to draw it up between them. The better that Dima may kiss Fae across his knuckles, then twice upon his palm. The better that Dima might hold the ring before Fae's finger, waiting only for his mate's confirmed agreement to slip it to its home.
Speaking, as he does this: "Say yes, my Love.
"Say that I may grant this ring and offer up my name.
"I'd like it, Fae; I'd like it very much.
"It would make me - as you always make me - very, very happy."
<.>
Dima's words sink beneath his skin. Maybe it's the cavern's strange lights, or maybe it's just that he's coming to know Dima, to believe him and believe in him - or maybe Faolan is softening. Maybe he's discovering that the world has good still to behold, and much of it begins and ends with his newfound family.
With all the worry now set aside, never forgotten but for now weakened, hushed and ignored, Faolan is free to exist in this moment, where all he has to do is make Dima happy. (And trust that Dima will do the same?) (Yes, maybe that, too.)
This moment and this place where he spoke love to someone for the first time, and heard it spoken back so sweetly, so raw and honest. He wanted this cavern to have meaning; Dima is holding out that meaning, letting it catch the blue glow on its metal surface.
Dima is offering a ring and a name, which are such small things, but they're made meaningful, aren't they? A ring and a name can mean a lifetime. They can mean family and love and forever.
And.
And the thing that would make Dima happy is -
What no one ever wanted. (And Dima hardly asks at all for what they did want.) (Dima gives Faolan room to want both sex and - this. And this.
A ring and a name.)
(Fae Voronin. That might be something real and true.) (Dima's going to regret marrying a scoundrel, a wh-) (No.) (No, he's not letting that thought in here, with all this beauty around them, with Dima waiting eager with a ring ready for his hand. It's a sacrilege.)
He breathes shakily and realizes the lights have doubled, tripled, blurred to starbursts and his eyes are wet. He feels staggered by this place and moment and Dima, who loves him. Who's waiting for an answer.
Weakly, as though the words are a theft of something sweet and long-desired, he finally admits, "I'd like it."
He nods and lets the words come again, relieved and maybe-broken. "Oh, I'd like it.
"Yes, then. For your happiness.
"And mine, Dima." He smiles unsteadily. "And mine."
<.>
Look at him: With all the sweetness of dawn's light; daring past the wounds he's carried for so long and all the fear they've left.
It isn't, Dima knows, that there is no worry left in Faolan. It's that he's letting himself reach forward. Letting himself incline into belief.
Letting himself speak claim for his own joy; to think on what he wants, and perhaps, perhaps permit himself to see something that might not end, or something that is - at least, if nothing else - assured in this moment; something that can offer brilliance, lightness, exalation.
There's a prick of tears at the back of Dima's eyes as he brushes a thumb along the fall of Puppy's tears. There's a stagger in his chest - the sound of air received as his body remembers to breathe - and reverence, gratitude as he speaks—
"There you are, my Fae."
A kiss for one cheek, not to banish weeping, but to take the tears upon his lips; to share in his mate's tumult and relief. A nudge of Dima's nose to Fae's, his forehead brushing at his Love's, then a kiss to the other cheek.
"We shall have it: Every name we share; everything we please.
"Together, and my mate, my husband, you will have happiness. I confess I'm set upon it. If I can't keep all the world's antagonisms from gnashing teeth your way, I'll rend as many as I can, gnash my own teeth—
"We'll shed their blood together, Dearest.
"And our home will be as it is now: Together. Wherever we find ourselves. Wherever we may choose.
"So long as I am yours, so long as you are with me and so long as I can bring you joy, ah, Love, we're always home."
There's more he wants to say. There are star-struck galaxies of words he wants to share, but the moment and the depth of honeyed eyes suspends both breath and voice, and for a moment, a stream of moments, Dima only stands with Faolan, one hand upon his Puppy's cheek, the other at his hair. His own expression at once telling of tidal feeling, and of simple, total adoration.
When he can speak again, his voice falls hushed, and his lop-sided grin shines with wonder. "I'm so proud of you, my Love.
"I want this for you, along with every other freedom, every other bliss: I'd like for you to believe the possibility of your own happiness; to speak for it, reach toward it where you're able.
"And your Daddy, your Dima, your mate and your husband and all that I am with you, for you—"
The smile turns slightly conspiratorial, still suffuse with ardor, as he draws back just enough to show the ring again between them. "I'll be here to help you, Faolan. To believe for you if the world seems dark; to wrap you in my teeth, my thorns, my holding."
There's a moment where he bites his lip, suddenly a little more hushed, suddenly shy. Looking to the ring, then to Fae's hand, then Fae's eyes, and—
"Give me your hand, my Fae."
Deftly, in a graceful, measured string of motions, Dima will take his Fae's hand, and slip the ring onto his finger. Clasping his hand after, meeting his eyes, and yes, there's a subtle wetness at Dima's own cheeks now, and no, he doesn't notice, doesn't mind at all. Knows only resurgent jubilation. Knows only the feeling of his mate's hand between his own.
“You bring me happiness beyond measure.
“You make me happy, my husband, my mate.
"My Love and my Fae."
And Dima kisses his everything, his world.
<.>
Eventually, Dima and Fae return to their camp. By then, Rin is asleep and Sen is in his meditative state - though it certainly looks as though he's fallen asleep.
Dima and Fae curl up together in the hammock, tired enough from the day's travel and evening's events that they drift off almost immediately. Liv takes a place on a branch above, keeping close without sleeping directly on the men.
no subject
But since Faolan is asking. Since Faolan has dared this far, and since everything he's said, everything's he's been with Dmitri has suggested Fae's hesitation comes more from worry - from wanting perhaps too keenly - than from not wanting what Dima's asked—
Well; it's very, very easy to answer: "It would, Fae.
"It would make me very happy, and tremendously proud, to have you as my husband. To walk with you in daylight, hand-in-hand; to kiss you on the cheek in every street and shop, before the eyes of all, seeing, feeling only one another.
"Please, Dearest: Don't think you lack the power to protect me. Already you guard me from the night's cold. From men and meenlocks. From myself, and what was once a hollow in my heart.
"And you know, you must know you bring me bliss. I've never known such joy before you; I scarcely knew brightness, at all. And my heart never did sing before we met.
"Faolan, listen to me. Listen to your Daddy; listen to your mate, hm?" There's a crooking smile - playful, deeply fond - and a nudge of the back of Dima's fingers to Fae's jaw; a movement that shifts into a cupping of Fae's cheek.
In Dima's other hand, the ring remains. Held now in a hand less tense-kept in anticipation. Held, and tilted slightly for a catch of light.
He continues, "I regret nothing that I've done whole-hearted, whole-minded. When I act in accordance with the truth that sears me— My Love, I know my certainties like flame; they burn with me; they become a part of me.
"I am certain of my love for you.
"I am certain how how utterly I want you and require you beside me, in all names, anywhere we two might do.
"I will always love you, Faolan; I know that too. My Puppy and my Wolf: I want everything you are, and I will keep you."
"Trust your mate on that, hm? Or. Simply know your Dima will always give you more cause to believe. Know that we have time, such ceaseless time, to find what life can be in love; in one another's arms; with one another's fire."
There's a nudge to Fae's forehead. The slightest, lightest tug of Fae's lip, which turns to a brush, lingering and sweet.
"I will never and I could never regret you, Faolan. It isn’t in my nature. It isn't what I am.
"You exist too deep within me; you have always been, I think, within my blood, waiting to awaken. And nothing, nothing can dislodge you from my heart.
"Just as no force, no fiend, no would-be-deity can force me from my Fae's."
Here Dima shifts his hands. Moves the first from Fae's cheek to his hand, to draw it up between them. The better that Dima may kiss Fae across his knuckles, then twice upon his palm. The better that Dima might hold the ring before Fae's finger, waiting only for his mate's confirmed agreement to slip it to its home.
Speaking, as he does this: "Say yes, my Love.
"Say that I may grant this ring and offer up my name.
"I'd like it, Fae; I'd like it very much.
"It would make me - as you always make me - very, very happy."
<.>
Dima's words sink beneath his skin. Maybe it's the cavern's strange lights, or maybe it's just that he's coming to know Dima, to believe him and believe in him - or maybe Faolan is softening. Maybe he's discovering that the world has good still to behold, and much of it begins and ends with his newfound family.
With all the worry now set aside, never forgotten but for now weakened, hushed and ignored, Faolan is free to exist in this moment, where all he has to do is make Dima happy. (And trust that Dima will do the same?) (Yes, maybe that, too.)
This moment and this place where he spoke love to someone for the first time, and heard it spoken back so sweetly, so raw and honest. He wanted this cavern to have meaning; Dima is holding out that meaning, letting it catch the blue glow on its metal surface.
Dima is offering a ring and a name, which are such small things, but they're made meaningful, aren't they? A ring and a name can mean a lifetime. They can mean family and love and forever.
And.
And the thing that would make Dima happy is -
What no one ever wanted. (And Dima hardly asks at all for what they did want.) (Dima gives Faolan room to want both sex and - this. And this.
A ring and a name.)
(Fae Voronin. That might be something real and true.) (Dima's going to regret marrying a scoundrel, a wh-) (No.) (No, he's not letting that thought in here, with all this beauty around them, with Dima waiting eager with a ring ready for his hand. It's a sacrilege.)
He breathes shakily and realizes the lights have doubled, tripled, blurred to starbursts and his eyes are wet. He feels staggered by this place and moment and Dima, who loves him. Who's waiting for an answer.
Weakly, as though the words are a theft of something sweet and long-desired, he finally admits, "I'd like it."
He nods and lets the words come again, relieved and maybe-broken. "Oh, I'd like it.
"Yes, then. For your happiness.
"And mine, Dima." He smiles unsteadily. "And mine."
<.>
Look at him: With all the sweetness of dawn's light; daring past the wounds he's carried for so long and all the fear they've left.
It isn't, Dima knows, that there is no worry left in Faolan. It's that he's letting himself reach forward. Letting himself incline into belief.
Letting himself speak claim for his own joy; to think on what he wants, and perhaps, perhaps permit himself to see something that might not end, or something that is - at least, if nothing else - assured in this moment; something that can offer brilliance, lightness, exalation.
There's a prick of tears at the back of Dima's eyes as he brushes a thumb along the fall of Puppy's tears. There's a stagger in his chest - the sound of air received as his body remembers to breathe - and reverence, gratitude as he speaks—
"There you are, my Fae."
A kiss for one cheek, not to banish weeping, but to take the tears upon his lips; to share in his mate's tumult and relief. A nudge of Dima's nose to Fae's, his forehead brushing at his Love's, then a kiss to the other cheek.
"We shall have it: Every name we share; everything we please.
"Together, and my mate, my husband, you will have happiness. I confess I'm set upon it. If I can't keep all the world's antagonisms from gnashing teeth your way, I'll rend as many as I can, gnash my own teeth—
"We'll shed their blood together, Dearest.
"And our home will be as it is now: Together. Wherever we find ourselves. Wherever we may choose.
"So long as I am yours, so long as you are with me and so long as I can bring you joy, ah, Love, we're always home."
There's more he wants to say. There are star-struck galaxies of words he wants to share, but the moment and the depth of honeyed eyes suspends both breath and voice, and for a moment, a stream of moments, Dima only stands with Faolan, one hand upon his Puppy's cheek, the other at his hair. His own expression at once telling of tidal feeling, and of simple, total adoration.
When he can speak again, his voice falls hushed, and his lop-sided grin shines with wonder. "I'm so proud of you, my Love.
"I want this for you, along with every other freedom, every other bliss: I'd like for you to believe the possibility of your own happiness; to speak for it, reach toward it where you're able.
"And your Daddy, your Dima, your mate and your husband and all that I am with you, for you—"
The smile turns slightly conspiratorial, still suffuse with ardor, as he draws back just enough to show the ring again between them. "I'll be here to help you, Faolan. To believe for you if the world seems dark; to wrap you in my teeth, my thorns, my holding."
There's a moment where he bites his lip, suddenly a little more hushed, suddenly shy. Looking to the ring, then to Fae's hand, then Fae's eyes, and—
"Give me your hand, my Fae."
Deftly, in a graceful, measured string of motions, Dima will take his Fae's hand, and slip the ring onto his finger. Clasping his hand after, meeting his eyes, and yes, there's a subtle wetness at Dima's own cheeks now, and no, he doesn't notice, doesn't mind at all. Knows only resurgent jubilation. Knows only the feeling of his mate's hand between his own.
“You bring me happiness beyond measure.
“You make me happy, my husband, my mate.
"My Love and my Fae."
And Dima kisses his everything, his world.
<.>
Eventually, Dima and Fae return to their camp. By then, Rin is asleep and Sen is in his meditative state - though it certainly looks as though he's fallen asleep.
Dima and Fae curl up together in the hammock, tired enough from the day's travel and evening's events that they drift off almost immediately. Liv takes a place on a branch above, keeping close without sleeping directly on the men.
<.>