Work Text:
Runaan watched Ethari carefully, studying the slow, sure movements of his hand as he sharpened his sword. He noticed how natural his hand looked cupping the whetstone, the muscles in his back and shoulder that tensed and relaxed over and over again. “Runaan,” Ethari said, not looking up from the sword. “I can feel your eyes.”
Runaan smiled. “Good.”
Ethari chuckled softly, eyes daring to connect with Runaan’s for the briefest moment as he spun the sword around, inspecting it thoroughly. He ran his finger across the blade, a soft sound ringing from it. He hummed, seemingly satisfied, and began packing up his equipment. “You need to stop getting into fights,” He paused, but Runaan could sense he wasn’t done. He waited. Most of Ethari’s equipment was packed up by the time he spoke again. “I can keep repairing and sharpening your weapons, but I can’t do the same to you. I want to keep you safe.” He turned to Runaan, offering up the sword.
“I’m an assassin, Ethari.” Runaan took it, strapping it to his side and standing up, barely a foot away from his partner. “I can’t really help it.”
Ethari sighed. “I know. I don’t have to like it, though.”
Runaan chuckled, but something darker sat beneath it that both he and Ethari hadn’t expected. Ethari raised an eyebrow in question, but Runaan said nothing. Ethari closed the gap between them, cupping his hands on Runaan’s cheeks. “I don’t have to like it,” he repeated, “but I do trust you to keep yourself safe. I didn’t mean to imply-”
Runaan shushed him, resting his forehead against Ethari’s. “That’s not it. I just… I don’t always like it, either. But it’s my role. It’s too late now to turn back.”
Ethari hummed, the sound low enough that Runaan felt the vibration of it against his chest. He nudged his face closer to Ethari’s, their noses grazing each other now. “Maybe we can both find little ways to like it. Or at least to be at peace with it.”
Runaan nodded. He wrapped his hands around Ethari’s waist, leaning in so that their lips almost touched, but he waited for Ethari to connect. He felt Ethari’s breath on his cheeks, felt his hair tickle his forehead. Ethari let them stay like that for a moment, savoring the heat and closeness that Runaan provided him, the feeling of comfort that settled over him like a blanket. Smiling softly, in the way he always did, he completed the kiss, feeling Runaan’s arms hold him tighter around his waist. The kiss was sharp and bright and so impossibly real . Ethari wasn’t a mage, but when he heard them speak of the absolute clarity that came across them when they called upon the Arcanum within them, he thought that this might be what it felt like. The world became crisper, clearer, safer when Runaan was in his arms. It had become impossible for him to see anything without his thoughts drifting back to Runaan. The sky and the sea were merely poor reflections of his crystalline blue eyes, the moon a watered-down imitation of his shining white hair. Runaan wasn’t simply Ethari’s world. The world was his. And Ethari hadn’t realized until they’d met. Ethari’s smile widened a little as he removed one hand from Runaan’s face, and instead used it to blindly untie the other elf’s long, flowing hair. It came free all at once from the braid Runaan always kept it in, falling on both of them. Neither seemed to mind.
“I love you,” Runaan mumbled into Ethari’s mouth, hand now gripping the back of his head and tangling Ethari’s hair.
Ethari laughed softly, the sound not mocking or cynical but full of light, and joy. “I love you, too.”