"I don't hate it exactly. It's more like. Not being able to get my sea legs, but in my brain." More queasy than painful; more disorienting than queasy. After almost two years of not watching anyone get tortured - he doesn't know what he expects.
"I want to make your memories part of our lives too, you know. Whatever parts you want to keep."
"Well, wait until we're really married. But after that it's paper, cotton, leather, fruit and flowers, wood."
He says, hands running up and down his back.
"Iron, copper, bronze, pottery, tin, steel, silk, lace, ivory. Crystal for fifteen. After that it goes in fives-ish. China for twenty, opal for twenty four, silver for twenty five, pearl for thirty, coral or jade for thirty five, ruby, sapphire, gold, emerald, diamond, sapphire again for sixty five for no discernible reason, platinum, then diamond again at seventy five because the system makes very little sense, oak, wine or moonstone, and if we make it to our ninetieth anniversary, stone. It gives up after that because of traditional human lifespans. I'm not over-invested in bridal catalogues, this is relevant to a branch of spellwork. I will, however, write it all down for you in faith that you will need to know every last one of them."
"I'll remember," Jedao promises. It's not quite making a plan for them, the way Quentin asked for after he married Fives. But it's not not that, either.
"I'm very inventive. Although you'd look divine with some white opal earrings."
Just saying.
His hands squeeze a little at Quentin's waist, and he looks up into Quentin's eyes.
"So is that definitely a yes on marrying us someday?" he asks, his voice cracking just a little, too heavy with hopeful longing to hold itself together.
Whoops. He kisses him back hard, folds his arms tighter around him, and pulls him up and off his toes, into the air and then around, to come sit up on the counter so they can make out properly. His back is stiff today, it's nice not to bend.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"I want to make your memories part of our lives too, you know. Whatever parts you want to keep."
no subject
He says, hands running up and down his back.
"Iron, copper, bronze, pottery, tin, steel, silk, lace, ivory. Crystal for fifteen. After that it goes in fives-ish. China for twenty, opal for twenty four, silver for twenty five, pearl for thirty, coral or jade for thirty five, ruby, sapphire, gold, emerald, diamond, sapphire again for sixty five for no discernible reason, platinum, then diamond again at seventy five because the system makes very little sense, oak, wine or moonstone, and if we make it to our ninetieth anniversary, stone. It gives up after that because of traditional human lifespans. I'm not over-invested in bridal catalogues, this is relevant to a branch of spellwork. I will, however, write it all down for you in faith that you will need to know every last one of them."
no subject
no subject
He says, with a snort.
"But you've got a few years to figure it out."
no subject
Just saying.
His hands squeeze a little at Quentin's waist, and he looks up into Quentin's eyes.
"So is that definitely a yes on marrying us someday?" he asks, his voice cracking just a little, too heavy with hopeful longing to hold itself together.
no subject
He says, meeting his eyes, not ducking away or flinching.
"I'll propose to the pair of you some time after Fives and I make it to our year. Would you be okay waiting on a ceremony until we're off the barge?"
Love with Quentin is always in the logistics.
no subject
no subject
no subject
“We can do it anywhere you want,” he promises, generally meaning the wedding, but also kinda sex too. While he’s at it.
no subject
Soothing him, even while he winds up himself, holding and kissing him back and counting each on in his head, in paper, cotton, fruit and flowers.
no subject
no subject
"I love you. We'll figure it out."