Work Text:
The end of the day was near, and all was coming to a close. The house was quiet, with only the soft sound of rain falling coating the room you were in with a drowsy, soothing atmosphere. The room had only one light source; the carefully tended fireplace in the front. The soft scent of fire and books soothed all your senses, so much so that you were beginning to fall asleep.
“Et la mer et l’amour ont l’amer pour partage.”
The soft, quiet, deep voice, tinged with a French accent was only helping you in your descent into sleep.
“Et la mer est amère et l’amour est amer,”
You could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, which was currently serving as your personal pillow.
“L’on s’abîme en l’amour aussi bien qu’en la mer,”
He paused, but only for a brief moment to take a small sip, most likely from his wine. At this point, you’ve never felt so comfortable. The quiet sound of the rain, the soft crackling of the fire, the familiar scent of aged paper, the subtle scent of wine, and the warming heat of the fire surrounding your body all made you feel so, so comfortable.
“Car la mer et l’amour ne sont point sans orage.”
But what made you feel the most at home was the person you were currently about to fall asleep on. How this happened, you do not know. But what you do know, is that he cares for you so much. To others, he may seem extremely hard to read. But to you, he’s like an open book. He may not say it, but you know he loves you. The subtle hand on your back when he’s walking with you, the knowing look that you both share when you pass each other in the halls.
“Si l’eau pouvait éteindre un brasier amoureux,”
Sometimes when in battle, you fail to notice an enemy approaching behind you. But as soon as you turn around, the enemy is already dead, and you can barely make out the silhouette of someone whoosh away. You know he loves you, because you’ve seen it with your own eyes.
“Ton amour qui me brûle est si fort douloureux,”
Alas, it was becoming harder to keep your eyes open. They started feeling heavier and heavier, almost like weights upon your eyes. So welcomingly, you closed them and allowed sleep to take you.
“Que j’eusse éteint son feu de la mer de mes larmes.”
Hearing your breathing slow down, the Spy softly smiled and closed his poetry book. He knew you needed time to unwind in the day, and he also knew you were having trouble sleeping. He was glad that you were able to fall asleep, and even happier to know his voice was able to softly lull you to sleep.
You did not hear the soft, whispered declaration of “Je t’aime” from him, nor did you feel the soft kiss he placed upon your sleeping form.
Translations:
Et la mer et l’amour ont l’amer pour partage,
The sea and love share a bitterness,
Et la mer est amère et l’amour est amer,
For the Sea is stinging and love is resentful,
L’on s’abîme en l’amour aussi bien qu’en la mer,
We drown in both love and the sea,
Car la mer et l’amour ne sont point sans orage.
For the sea and love are not without storms.
Si l’eau pouvait éteindre un brasier amoureux,
If water could extinguish a loving blaze,
Ton amour qui me brûle est si fort douloureux,
Your love that burns me is so painful,
Que j’eusse éteint son feu de la mer de mes larmes.
That I had extinguished its fire from the sea of my tears.
Je t’aime
I love you.