it's a long way home

Regardless of whether or not Remi had actually picked Ronin (and he both had and hadn't, in the hunter's eyes), he flashed his husband a truly sunny smile in response. To be picked, wanted, loved - wasn't that all anyone wanted? Ronin just felt lucky to have found that much with his best friend, and as Remi's hand strayed towards the loose 'thread' of his shirt, he was already laughing wickedly. The garment fell away and another of Ronin's shirts had officially gone to Mort's realm, not that he much cared. "Such a shame," he agreed, fully expecting things to kindle and heat up between them as was the norm - not that Ronin was even sure he could be, ah, up to the task these days. So as Remi pushed down on his shoulders and settled himself in his lap, Ronin was a little perplexed, though he had no intention of being anything but compliant after his behaviour that day. His hands slid gently along Remi's thighs and up to his hips, just as strong and skilled fingers found every knot in his shoulders, every bit of tension in his muscles. Grumbling something incomprehensible, Ronin all but flopped forward against Remi, his forehead finding the alchemist's shoulder, the ex-captain putty in his husband's hands. RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.