It's easier than it should be. No clap of ominous thunder, no psychic floor falling out from under them. Just a kiss that feels like a warm extension of the ways they already tangle together while the rest of the world fades away.
Daniel looks at him. Little flecks of awe like the first time he saw him floating in the reading room, spirals of warm affection, warm blood-gold-blue reflecting in each other. Armand has grown so familiar, as a person and a monster. There's no room between them for insecurities, no place for You're beautiful enough to have anyone, no excuse for Daniel to shudder back under the shame of his physical age. These things have been peeled away. Armand is fucking crazy. Daniel isn't squeamish.
Still. A bit of surprise. Half at the vulnerability, half at it being kind of a stupid question. Mixed. A soup of surprise.
"I've thought about it," he says. "Often enough that I've had to make myself stop thinking about it. Because I didn't want to derail anything by being an asshole."
He touches Armand's face, which is perfect, and still occasionally nightmare inducing. They've made peace and they've made friends, and every so often, Daniel still falls asleep and sees radiating orange eyes staring at him in the midst of his worst nightmares, then wakes up and those eyes are besides him, closed, dozing contentedly against his chest. He's gotten used to it.
"I want you in any way that you'll have me, too."
Do you think I'm boring? — No. One word. Not his best. Could have used workshopping. This also may need some, its careful, awkward honesty. Armand can't read his mind, and Daniel is terrible at connecting sincerely, and, and, and. They are still so close.
no subject
Daniel looks at him. Little flecks of awe like the first time he saw him floating in the reading room, spirals of warm affection, warm blood-gold-blue reflecting in each other. Armand has grown so familiar, as a person and a monster. There's no room between them for insecurities, no place for You're beautiful enough to have anyone, no excuse for Daniel to shudder back under the shame of his physical age. These things have been peeled away. Armand is fucking crazy. Daniel isn't squeamish.
Still. A bit of surprise. Half at the vulnerability, half at it being kind of a stupid question. Mixed. A soup of surprise.
"I've thought about it," he says. "Often enough that I've had to make myself stop thinking about it. Because I didn't want to derail anything by being an asshole."
He touches Armand's face, which is perfect, and still occasionally nightmare inducing. They've made peace and they've made friends, and every so often, Daniel still falls asleep and sees radiating orange eyes staring at him in the midst of his worst nightmares, then wakes up and those eyes are besides him, closed, dozing contentedly against his chest. He's gotten used to it.
"I want you in any way that you'll have me, too."
Do you think I'm boring? — No. One word. Not his best. Could have used workshopping. This also may need some, its careful, awkward honesty. Armand can't read his mind, and Daniel is terrible at connecting sincerely, and, and, and. They are still so close.