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INBOX text / audio / video / action I only drink Chocolate Milk. THE DARKEST OF MILKS! art credit code credit

I'm - trying to do this on a timer, okay? Be pissy at me later.

[Peter admits with a bit of a pinched look; sighing as he wraps his arms around Odin, giving him a squeeze in lieu of that missed I Love You and speaking against his jaw as he nuzzles him back. For a second. Because he's on a fucking timer, like he just said and like he almost just forgot. One kiss before he just quietly whispers into Odin's ear:]

Close your eyes so this is a surprise.

... Okay.

[ He bites back the kneejerk reaction to just-- keep talking, make a game out of annoying Peter into making out with him. For once in his life, he's just going to be quiet, and after letting his eyes linger over his boyfriend's for just long enough to drown in the swell of affection that hits him after being kissed, after being whispered to, he closes his eyes and loops his arm around Peter's waist. ]

Eyes are-- shut. You gonna do the speedy fast boy thing and take me up there so I don't have to use my legs?

Ye-up. [That's the last thing Peter says before he relocates them to the roof in super speed; otherwise they'd risk missing that countdown of the last five minutes to midnight and his anxiety would've rotted a hole through his stomach without at least that buffer on something rather important to him. He carries Odin up to the roof, which features their usual two folding chairs and a cinder block table, but also has blankets strewn out with a few cushy pillows. That's where he leaves Odin.

It's a blur of motion but after dropping him there, he goes to leave a treat out for Rooty on the couch, guzzle ginger ale to calm his nerves and fetches the wrapped up gift that he's holding in his hand on the roof when everything snaps back into motion as he gears back down into Normal Speed. He needs a better word for that.]

Giving you a sec to... feel better. Sit? Sit. Let's sit.

[ Despite the wobbliness in his knees and the vertigo that smacks him in the gut when he opens his eyes, Odin's actually kind of getting used to the feeling of having his insides jostled around at mach speeds. He's woozy and it takes a sec, but he's grinning through the whole thing and doesn't need as much time to readjust as he might have a few months ago; when his stomach won't stop feeling unsettled even as the rest of him stops swimming, it's hard not to realize he's just... excited. What could all of this mean?

He takes his seat among the cushions and bounces his heel over the blanket, clasping his hands together and looking out under the stars. Every time he looks at the stars he always finds himself - looking down, these days, at the moon etched onto his wrist in thin black ink. It's not the first time he's lovingly smoothed his thumb over the edge of it, and it won't be the last. He looks back up to Peter. ]

So... ah. [ Speechless. He still makes Odin speechless. ]

Hi.

Edited 2018-07-01 22:55 (UTC)

Uh. Hey.

[Peter looks down at himself for a second, wondering if he should've done this in - better clothes. A better set up? He should've taken Odin out somewhere for this. It's too late now. He rolls his shoulder out and then sits down next to his boyfriend, eyes skimming over the tattoo before grazing his thumb over his own subconsciously. Sun to his moon.

The blanket's not really that comfortable but it makes the rooftop bearable, and Peter holds out a wrapped gift; tugging it back before Odin takes it, just for a hesitant second, before he'll then allow him to do so - just making sure he says the following:]

It's like, gonna be your birthday in under a minute and I have a whole thing for that, but this - this is just because of us. So like, open this? Quickly. So that I can just keep talking and this can all blend into one awkward tangent for me, okay?

[What's in the box? What's in the baaaax? It's a familiar journal, only it's been used. Heavily. Odin gave it to him for Christmas and he saw fit to start using it even before they became a couple, which means... that whole process has been documented in pen and ink. Along with every other up and down in the last eight months of Peter's ImPort Life.

From lingering feelings of sadness and closure over losing Jean to the rathogs being identified and the lead up to ImPort My Heart - even before the Valentine's Day kiss, Odin was in every single entry. His advice was scribbled down in slightly smudged handwriting, his jokes were copied down and their days together detailed just to remember them. Then Odin's show happened and those passages about friendship got convoluted, confused and sometimes abruptly cut off.

February 13th: What do I do? He's my best friend. Are you supposed to think of your best friend this way? I'm supposed to be cheering him on but all I want to see happen is him to stay single and that's... that's not friendship. That's what, jealousy? It's not like I want him to fail. It's like... I want him to not - be with anyone else. Which means I'm jealous. I'm fucking jealous. God, I think I like him. I think I like him. What the fuck am I going to do now.

February 15th: #confirmed. I like him. Shit? He likes me too. We're. We're in like. Go figure. I haven't felt this way before... all stupid, over the slightest thing. Greg the camera guy saw me smiling to myself and he gave me the weirdest look. I know you're screwing Debra behind the porta-potties, Greg. You don't get to look at me like that.

The entries continue and they make great use of the journal up until the current day, increasingly detailed accounts of their relationship mixed in with pop trivia, penned pages of missing his mother and his sisters and a few hopeful thoughts for the future. Oh, and a recipe for oat cookies. The last entry is dated July 14th and the only thing it says is: I love you.]

It's - stupid. But hear me out.

Edited 2018-07-01 23:17 (UTC)

[ Peter pulls the gift away and Odin's caught between indignation and the urge to giggle - which makes him feel like his body is betraying him, because this is an outrage and needs to be treated as such - but he relents and tells Odin to tear into it, so that's what he does, trying to be delicate with the paper at first but ripping it off with his fingernails when he runs out of patience. It doesn't take long for him to realize what he's looking at. ]

Ah - holy shit.

[ It's genuine shock, genuine excitement. He's grinning like an idiot, he can tell. It's rare for Odin to be embarrassed about how open he can be when he smiles, but this? He can feel the warmth in his cheeks, the steady, spreading redness of his blush, he can feel the impossible pull of his muscles as that smile just fucking stays there even when he tries to bring it back. His hand rests over his lips but the smile is still there in his eyes, crinkled in the corners and a glossy shine over that grey he always found so dull. Peter just wrote in this shit with the first pen he could find, Odin bets, but for some reason this ink is the most brilliant blue he's ever seen. ]

You used it? You-- these are about me. You thought about-- you thought about me? [ He's flipping through the pages, fingers trembling enough that he has to laugh and give his wrist a little shake to get his hand working properly. A hand that always stayed so steady when he was fighting for his life, a hand that he lived by and thought he'd die by for twenty three years before coming to America and realized the love of his life meant so much more to him than the need to be recognized as a hero.

Peter still has more to say and Odin knows he needs to listen - they're ticking closer to midnight, after all, and he takes a long, shaky breath to steady himself. Peter-- Peter still has more to say, Peter still has more to say, but-- but Odin just has one more interruption to make, one quick comment made as he clutches the journal tight to his chest. ]

I was never just "in like" with you. [ He takes a quick, sharp breath. ] I'm-- I'm listening. What-- what else?

[Peter's eyes are so sharply trained on Odin, watching every little flicker of emotion across his face - he's hooked on it all. He can't tear his eyes away, he was... nervous about this and he still is, literally handing over his personal thoughts to the only person he trusts enough just to let have at them.

There's a lot of things he wrote out in that book that vary from good to bad, some darker pages showing a side of Peter that he rarely lets surface; the misfit, the mutant who harbors a little resentment still for all the things that have happened in his life the way they did. But Odin himself is the constant that ties those thoughts to the better ones, the brighter ones. He might talk as if this is stupid, but it's - big for Peter, and Odin's not the only one who's flushed with a bit of color.

Peter's anxious but in such a way that he's too fixated on the moment to fidget, finger only idly grazing against his knee as he tries to find his thoughts again. Tries to find the voice he needs to bring them out into the cool night air between them, when he's staring into Odin's eyes with such wonder.]

I uh. I actually go on to - say the L word later. After we - in the shower? Yeah.

[He rubs at his nose, the blush across his pale face more noticeable as he scrubs at his face and makes a noise that sits in the back of his throat. Nnnnghhh. He's embarrassed. He can't possibly be more exposed than this, but he - feels good? He feels good. He walks his fingers across the blanket towards Odin, poking at his high before upturning his palm in a silent gesture to hold hands.]

There's a lot of stuff in there but I was reading back through it the other day and I thought - since we're at the six month mark, you might get a kick out of it too. Almost everything I wrote involved you, did you know? You're my... best friend. So. Happy anniversary, I guess?

[He clears his throat.] And happy birthday? I have one more thing for you.

[ Odin's still so lost in the journal, the gravity of what this is hitting him over and over again. A record of their relationship, of every thought that went through Peter's mind leading up to the kiss in February, every quiet worry that it might not work and every tearful celebration when it did. He hasn't crossed over into the parts that might be hard to read, the worries about his mutation and the fears they touch on only when Peter thinks they need to; he's skipping to dates he remembers as perfect, to warm golden mornings and crisp romantic nights. Their tattoos, the times Peter has helped him through nightmares, all of it - things that are them. He reads over each happy word with tears in his eyes. He made Peter happy. That's all he ever wanted to do.

He realizes he's staring at the pages for too long and he needs to focus up, so with a clearing of his throat he closes the journal again, hiding his face behind it and sinking further back into his pillows. He's-- so happy. That's all he is, from the top of his head to his very last toe, he's just happy. He pokes his eyes out from the top of the diary, still so clearly smiling. ]

I love it. I love it, and I love you.

[ He sets the diary down and takes Peter's hands, pulling them forward for a quick kiss. Six months. It still feels so brand new to him - he still feels so excited when he gets to spend the day with Peter. He has something to give Peter for their anniversary, too, but he's so fucking overwhelmed by the journal that it's completely slipped his mind. He pretends to bite Peter's hand, gnawing lightly on the side of it, all happy and stupid and full of so much energy that he can't think of how to burn it. Just-- a lot of fidgeting, a lot of tugging and biting and nipping and playing. A lot of quick fingers. ]

I-I don't know if you can beat this? You're-- you're my favourite thing in the world, and you just gave me, like, six months of you. That's... [ He takes a deep breath, shakes his head. ] Not that I'm-- not that I'm trying to dissuade you from giving me anything else? I'm totally here for... for free... free things.

[Peter smiles and the moment feels like the first beam of light in the clearing clouds of a storm and once he starts - he can't stop. He kisses Odin, leaning into it and holding it out to prolong the moment, lip to lip with only a soft and pleasant sigh given when he pulls back. The first leg of the race has been run and now it's actually down to the... difficult part. If you thought that was grossly sentimental, just wait for part two.]

You don't need to beat it... I'm just happy to be able to give you everything I can? Like, you made... my birthday important. I've worn this bracelet every day since, because it was so important to me. You're important to me. Six months, six years, I just... want to be able to keep giving you everything I can.

[Peter sits back a bit, reaching up with his hands to fish out a chain that hangs around his neck, hidden under the collar of his shirt. He takes it off slowly, and hanging on it is a single ring. Hand made from a hard to find and particularly rare coin, Peter had tried to emulate the care and thought of the silver bracelet by making this himself. Tentatively, he holds it out. He's not thinking of the ring as any sort of formal engagement because he knows that - they don't need that? They don't need a wedding to know that they're soulmates at this point, linked together by the inked wrists they already wear as proudly as any gold bands. But this instead is a symbol of Peter and Odin's bond, because...]

When you ported out I didn't have a lot left of you. The letters - I loved them, I did. But this bracelet? It... It was a piece of you that I kept with me. And I'm not saying I may or may not ever port out, but if I do or if we're ever separated for any other reason? I wanted you to have something I made for you. So you'd know I'm always with you in the same way you're always with me. And that we'd be able to find our way back to each other, no matter what.

[Hm.] It was also really hard to make? So you better like it. You have no idea how close I came to trying to ask for your advice.

[ The second Peter leans forward to kiss him, Odin darts ahead to help close the distance, thrilled beyond all measure to share this with the person he loves. It's short and it's light but it means the world to Odin, who still just can't stop doing things with his hands - right now, he's balling his fingers in Peter's t-shirt (well, Odin's t-shirt that Peter is wearing) and tugging on it while he talks, just idly poking and prodding like Peter's his doll to play with. Six years, Peter says, and Odin's heart catches in his throat. He wants that. He had six years in Nohr - it's not so crazy to think he might be able to have six years here.

Peter wants to give him everything he can. Odin wants that, too.

He lets go when Peter reaches for the chain, eyes wide when he follows the silver links to the end and sees - the ring. His reaction is instantaneous - he wants to run down to their bedroom, tear the place apart and get his mom's ring from the box he keeps at the apartment, hidden with so many of his other important possessions. He actually thinks about doing it, saying he needs to hit the bathroom or something so he has an excuse to leave - but not only would that ruin the moment, he made a promise, didn't he? A year in, that's when Peter would get the ring. A year in, even though he deserves it now. Deserved it the second they started dating.

He carefully takes the ring from Peter's hands, treating it like precious gold or the finest woven silks, examining every ridge and every line. Odin. The All Father part makes him laugh, more watery than he expected, and he goes quiet after that. Peter made this for him... Peter made this. He doesn't want to think about Peter porting out, but he gets it. Having something. Something strictly Peter's. This is his. This is theirs.

Peter always makes him so fucking speechless. He doesn't have anything in him to say, can't even try without his voice breaking and his throat too lumpy and hot to work. He tilts forward until his head is against Peter's shirt and he just lets loose a quiet, wordless sob, this breath of air that pushes out of him. He's so happy. He's so fucking happy. He doesn't know how to express it, other than things like this - crying, holding hands, touching. All the words on earth mean shit in the face of this, and his fingers curl at Peter's shoulderblades, digging in tight as he just... hugs him. He nestles his head further in, sniffling over Peter's chest, ruining his shirt with spots of tears. His own shirt. ]

[Peter wants to joke and say 'Guess you like it' but the words don't come, he just keeps smiling as Odin presses against him and he wraps his arms tightly around him in an embrace. He feels on top of the word, ecstatic and excited and crackling with energy and it's only a little past midnight. But this is just another night he'll end up writing about in that journal, something that will stick with him as memorable from his time here. One of the best nights of his life.

He breathes in deep the scent of Odin so close, nudging his nose against his neck and kissing it soundly before tugging him backward to lay with him on the blankets. He doesn't relent his grip, wanting nothing more than to just stay like this together, wound up and warm and holding on to each other like there's no other state to exist in. It's with a kiss to the neck that Peter finally loosens his arms a bit, but he doesn't fully let go of Odin; he breathes deep and feels so solidly anchored like this, that he doesn't even want to think about going back downstairs. He wants this to stretch out.]

Love you, dude.

I love you.

[ It comes muffled into Peter's shoulder, and for a time, that's all Odin feels up to doing. He buries his nose against Peter's neck and shuts his eyes tight, letting the weight of him, the warmth of him, sit in his arms. He doesn't think he has it in him to move or pull away or-- or let this end, let any of this end, and all those thoughts he tries to keep out of his head, all those fears of the porter and of death and of anything else that might tear the two of them apart, they all just-- ]

I just wanna be with you so bad. I wanna grow old with you.

[ He pulls back, finally, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. He feels so deferential towards the ring, like it's more expensive and more rare than anything any legendary swordsman or master blacksmith would carry into battle with them. A piece of Peter, that's what Peter said. Odin runs his thumb over the band and feels his eyes welling up, just as heartbroken as he is totally and completely fulfilled. ]

I hate feeling like there's a chance I won't be able to do that. It's all I want. I don't need anything else.

You never know. We might have a chance at that, here.

[It feels heavy, because it is. That uncertainty that lingers behind every gesture they make, the knowledge that any day could be their last. It used to scare Peter, terrify him, but he thinks now he's finally come full circle into being able to be inspired by it. Enjoy what moments he has, never let himself get sucked into the negativity - to make things work, no matter what. So that they never have any excuse to have regrets.

He runs his hands through Odin's hair, mussing it up as he rests on his elbow; holding on to Odin lightly, eyes trained on him. He's pretty even when he cries, grey eyes sparkling like a storm. He leans to kiss him, soundly on the lips and breathing hard between them.]

But like I said. No matter what, this ring? It means I'll always find my way to you, okay? I'll find you, whenever and wherever. I'll be with you like you'll always be with me.

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