shadowglitter | ic contact

ic contact

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

[ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

ic contact

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject