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Mornings like these left him wondering if he were still in a dream.
The first rays of morning sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows off of the two figures curled up on the bed. Like this, Revri’s long green hair looked almost aglow with the soft light of daybreak. Dimitri’s fingers twitched in a subconscious urge to run through it— an urge he knew he could indulge now, if he so chose.
Instead his eyes trailed from the man’s lengthy hair up to his face. Eyes closed, breath soft, a certain peace about him that was hard-won during their waking hours. His calloused hands were curled up near his face, giving the occasional twitch. Dimitri reached out, taking one in one of his own cold hands, and they settled. His heart never ceased to warm at how quickly the man found comfort in the smallest of touches. He knew he was the same.
It had taken him so long to even be able to touch Revri like this. Simple, slow. For the longest time he thought himself undeserving of even the smallest kindness. Met it with polite refusal and reassurance when he was young, outright hostility when he was less so. And after.. After Rodrigue, after Revri had taken all of his shattered pieces and slowly fit them together one by one, had taken his chilled hands and guided him out of the soaking rain to hold him as he cried, wailed… That was when he started allowing himself the simple indulgence of touch. They had started slow. Clasped hands over tea, or a squeeze of the shoulder, a praising pat on the head. Then came the shaky waters of an embrace, his arms fit so lightly around him in fear of his own strength. And then…
He still remembers the night they took back Fhirdiad. How the both of them slipped away from the celebrations for a small reprieve. Crowds had always unsettled him, especially during the war. Revri had known. Revri had taken his hand, guided him away and out into the night air without so much as a word, only a small and secret smile. Goddess, every smile from that man felt like a gift from the heavens themselves. There was a boyish giddiness in his chest as he snuck away with him,the two of them walking the darkened ramparts together. They didn’t hold hands, but their arms brushed as they walked, their shoulders touching with each step they took. And finally he was the first to stop and turn. Praises and thanks had spilled from his lips, the gratefulness that his Professor— that Revri had been with him every step of the way and had pulled him from the darkness. Something swelled in his chest as he spoke and told Revri of how the people of Faerghus had him to thank, how he would follow his leadership to the ends of the world. He remembers seeing the softness in the man’s green eyes. Remembers feeling the warmth of a smaller hand fitting into his. And, Heavens, he remembers Revri saying something but him not hearing a word the other man said. All he could focus on in that moment was the gentle, muted warmth on his face— hardly worth noticing to those who didn’t know him, but to those who did it was an ocean. More emotion than he hardly ever showed, and it was all for him. That swell in his chest had nearly burst and he found his hands lifting of their own accord to fit over his cheeks, to softly stroke a thumb over his cheekbone and lean down to brush his lips to his. A fleeting thing— looking back, he could hardly call it a kiss at all with how quickly he’d pulled back, single blue eye wide in shock and apologies immediately starting to pour from him.
Revri had laughed. Revri had taken his face in his hands, his warm, gentle hands, and had raised up on his tiptoes to kiss him again. The rest of the night had faded from his memories in favor of that one blessed moment.
And now they lay together, years after the war, in their shared bed, in their home in Fhirdiad. Even as Archbishop Revri made certain to make time to return to Dimitri’s home and vice versa, their duties only going so far in keeping them apart. They always found their way back to each other and these quiet mornings were the gift of that effort. Dimitri’s fingers traced over the hand in his. He trailed over scars in a feather-light touch, over callouses, ink stains from late nights bent over sheaves of parchment. Finally, over the ring that adorned his finger, the one his father had given to his birth mother, the one that had been passed on to him. His fingertips lingered there, tracing over the silver band that intertwined both of their hearts, one beating, one not.
“..Are you going to spend the morning playing with my hands, or are you going to give me a proper good-morning kiss?”
Dimitri jumped. His eyes flickered up to his husband’s— Goddess, his husband’s— face. He couldn’t hide a bright smile at the sleep-tinged smirk he found waiting for him. “Apologies, my beloved. I was.. lost in thought.”
“Thinking of me? How embarrassing.”
Dimitri’s cheeks colored. “We’re married.”
“I know.” That tiny smirk melted into a proper smile and Dimitri’s heart swelled. Revri sat up to meet him, a hand easing into his hair to tug him down into a warm kiss. One turned into two, into three, and before the two of them knew it the sun was far over the horizon, the morning spent in tangled sheets and soft, loving touches.
If he awoke to find this was a dream, he certainly did not want to wake up anytime soon.