we shall heal our wounds, collect our dead
"Only you could be upset that things didn't turn into a shitshow, like in the desert," Ronin says with a breathly chuckle, already sneaking through the water so he can sidle up to sit behind his husband in the hot water leaning in to press his lips to the crook of his neck and shoulder. "I bet it didn't. It has been a long time since you saw him last, right?" he mumbles, speaking the words against Remi's skin even as his hands work to clean away dust and blood.
Still, he winces at the reminder of how much damage he'd done to his husband that evening, wrinkling his nose. "I don't hate to hear it, even if you hate saying it," he mumbles. "I hate hurting you even though I know you can take it. It's different to sparring - I'm never aiming for you." Sighing, he lets his head loll against Remi's curls and blinks up into the dark, starless sky.
"How do you feel after Deimos's magic?" he asks.
Still, he winces at the reminder of how much damage he'd done to his husband that evening, wrinkling his nose. "I don't hate to hear it, even if you hate saying it," he mumbles. "I hate hurting you even though I know you can take it. It's different to sparring - I'm never aiming for you." Sighing, he lets his head loll against Remi's curls and blinks up into the dark, starless sky.
"How do you feel after Deimos's magic?" he asks.
THE DARK STAR
and continue fighting
