if you really don't mind, take me as i am, take me as i am, when you get a chance
take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
take your time, i understand, believe me when i say i carry all my sins
As far as Nate is concerned, the room is perfect. The piano is perfect. Coming home to a surprise like this is utterly unbelievable, if he didn't know better, he'd say he was dreaming. "'Course you are." Nate echoes, unable to banish the shaky smile from his face, even for the joke. He doesn't know what to do with the tangle of emotion in his chest, doesn't know what to do with his hands when Sunjata wraps around him, when he presses the kiss to his cheek. By the time he thinks he might have figured it out, his husband has moved to sit at the bench, and Nate is frozen again, caught out by surprise and responding automatically. "I'm sure you're fine."
It's one thing to say I know how to play the piano, a boast Nate's heard before, from friends trying to be impressive when all they can do is choppily plink out half a song. It's another thing entirely to be faced with actual music, with Sunjata's fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. It takes his breath away, as much as it can, awed surprise bringing him closer slowly. The first notes are almost hesitant, but they grow, swell, and when steel eyes lift to his face again Nate is absolutely blown away.
Their eyes meeting seems to snap him out of it though, those slow steps hastened, Nate stepping around the bench to stand behind Sunjata, to lean over him just a little bit and press his lips to the side of his head, to wrap his hands around Sunjata's shoulders. This is beautiful. And with the words, a dam is dropped, all of the emotions in his chest suddenly released through the bond. Awe, more than anything, and a warm, fierce pride, all wrapped together with a sense of love far more fragile feeling than anything Nate's felt himself, let alone shared.
Nate's hands squeeze tightly for a moment, then slip away, trailing along Sunjata's side as his head bows, and he presses his forehead to the attuned's back, bent almost in half to do it, to hide away and touch him and not interrupt. The tremble is unmistakable, no matter how he tries to bite it away, but the hope is he has himself together by the end of the song.
It's one thing to say I know how to play the piano, a boast Nate's heard before, from friends trying to be impressive when all they can do is choppily plink out half a song. It's another thing entirely to be faced with actual music, with Sunjata's fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. It takes his breath away, as much as it can, awed surprise bringing him closer slowly. The first notes are almost hesitant, but they grow, swell, and when steel eyes lift to his face again Nate is absolutely blown away.
Their eyes meeting seems to snap him out of it though, those slow steps hastened, Nate stepping around the bench to stand behind Sunjata, to lean over him just a little bit and press his lips to the side of his head, to wrap his hands around Sunjata's shoulders. This is beautiful. And with the words, a dam is dropped, all of the emotions in his chest suddenly released through the bond. Awe, more than anything, and a warm, fierce pride, all wrapped together with a sense of love far more fragile feeling than anything Nate's felt himself, let alone shared.
Nate's hands squeeze tightly for a moment, then slip away, trailing along Sunjata's side as his head bows, and he presses his forehead to the attuned's back, bent almost in half to do it, to hide away and touch him and not interrupt. The tremble is unmistakable, no matter how he tries to bite it away, but the hope is he has himself together by the end of the song.
NATE
