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@ wlawford 

room 023; bunk 025 (with loki odinson)

text ✰ voice ✰ holovid

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From:

thirtythird

[The long quiet helps. It allows the warmth of their bodies close beside one another to seep in deeper, curling against the cold that can take hold in the bones.

Thomas's voice is a gentle tug back into the moment rather than the sensation. William's thumb shifts thoughtlessly but firmly, smoothing at knuckles that he's begun to know nearly as well as the back of his own hand.]

Rather lucky.

[Most men in their position, after all, looked decades older than their years on Earth.]

From:

ettersberg

[ thomas hums, hand tightening briefly around william's fingers before he forces himself to relax, or at least something akin to it, again. (the proximity, the gentle sweep of that thumb over his knuckles, the way william holds on, those things help.) ]

I did age normally until I was almost 70.

From:

thirtythird

[...well. That's different, isn't it. Not something worth startling away about or anything that dramatic, but certainly worthy of a contemplative examination of the man standing next to him.]

And how long ago was that, if that isn't awfully rude to ask?

[Difficult to imagine, really; William already feels ancient from the comparatively paltry decades he's survived.]

From:

ettersberg

Not quite 50 years ago.

[ different is one word for it, yes. ] I aged backwards for a while, but it seems to have settled now.

From:

thirtythird

[There should be lots of questions, surely, but all that bubbles up to William's lips is:] Oh, mo chridhe, I... cannot imagine.

[The losses of a single lifetime could already be too much to bear. The losses of several lifetimes? Of the constant press of war, of want, of even the gentle peace some found in old age?

The rush of overwhelmed concern has to come first.]

From:

ettersberg

[ the rush of concern steals thomas's breath away, breaking open some of the festering aches growing in his chest.

it is all that he can do to stay still, not to bury his face against william's neck. then he considers that william would let him and does it after all, slowly, deliberately. ]

From:

thirtythird

[Of course Thomas is allowed; welcomed, even, into the space at the crook of William's neck. His chin nudges instinctively into place, close and protective, as his arm shifts at the same slow pace to curl properly around the older man.

It isn't enough, but it's what there is to offer against this particular chill of the heart.]

From:

ettersberg

[ william curls his arm around thomas, chin nudging into place and it's —it's not at all the sort of thing that thomas is inclined to in public, generally, and exactly the kind of thing his heart needs right now.

(he tries not to think about all those he has lost, about going on when damn near his entire generation of wizards lost their lives or otherwise gave up after operation spatchcock. he tries, and then he worries that if he forgets, who will remember them? so he does think about them after all, so he's carved their names into the wall of their own school.

there's no one left but him to see them there. well, peter now. it's something. it's the future.)

he sighs a little, letting himself lean into william's steadiness, the concern and comfort and warmth there.

eventually: ]

Thank you.

From:

thirtythird

[His head shakes very slightly, careful not to dislodge the moment they've settled into. There's nothing to thank him for. There's almost a need to thank the man curling against him--for the honesty, for the intimacy, for the strange sensation of being slightly more whole when finding there are other strong shoulders carrying a familiar crushing weight.

Another slight turn lets him press his nose into place against Thomas's temple with the softest bit of a sigh.]

From:

ettersberg

[ william shakes his head, barely but undeniably, the message clear through gesture and empathy bond both, and thomas hums in acknowledgment and lets himself sink into william's warmth, just lets himself be held. ]

From:

thirtythird

There we are, darling.

[Even this much unwinding into someone else takes effort. Even this little sliver of help has to be counted as properly important.

They'll linger here until it feels properly real under the other man's skin, hopefully; something to return to in the moments of unsteadiness.]

From:

ettersberg

[ there we are. thomas hums in return, takes that darling and the warmth of william's body, the arm around him and the beat of william's heart and uses it to shore himself up, to ease the aches of more than one lifetime, of loss and war.

william, he's come to understand, is a marvel. this only confirms his opinion on the matter.

he pulls back eventually, not to go anywhere, just enough that he can take in william for a moment before brushing his lips against william's, another thank you, but non-verbal, just as much as a just-because kiss. ]

I'm glad to have met you here.

From:

thirtythird

[It feels a little more settled when Thomas leans back now. It feels a little more like they're taking steps down the path leading toward breathing with a sense of calm again. It feels a bit like the kiss is just a kiss, just natural and easy and for no reason at all.

Williams' fingers shift slightly, letting his thumb find the back of the other man's neck to smooth at absently.]

And I you. And for... every second of knowing you.

From:

ettersberg

[ thomas leans into the touch. he isn't smiling, but there is warmth in his gaze now that wasn't there before, replacing the grief and sorrow, the shadows, or at least pushing them back. ]

Quite.