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Kaeya would blame the aches on overexertion, but it’s a lie.
Lumine pulls at his shoulders and then kneads them, squeezing at the tense, taut muscle that throbs dulling. “Like a rock,” she mutters, shifting slightly to dig the point of her elbow into the offending area. “Or should I say rocks. What’s got you jacked up?”
“Age,” says Kaeya morosely. “I can’t run drills the same way that I used to. I really should listen to Jean and stick to the sidelines, huh?”
Lumine laughs. “You’d never do that, even if you were forced.”
Entirely true. Kaeya would have to be on death’s door for him to willingly step aside. Like, yeah, ushering in the youth is a valiant and lofty endeavor but— “The recruits are just… so…”
“Young?”
“I was going to say undisciplined. They— oh, there, that’s a good spot.” Lumine really gets in there, digging her thumbs just underneath the curve of his scapula, and Barbatos above, it’s just what he needs. Kaeya could melt into the couch, nothing but a vaguely-shaped blob of wrinkles and dark hair.
“You know—”
“If you’re about to ask for a favor, I’m going to remind you that you offered this up. Free of charge. No strings attached.”
Lumine’s hands still, and she leans forward, her mouth next to his ear. “Which is also why I can stop whenever I want—no strings attached, as you said.”
Kaeya starts at that, a frown spreading across his face. “Wait, no, that isn’t what I meant.”
“A tease, I assure you. I rather like doing this, but—”
“There’s always a but, isn’t there?”
Lumine’s thumb drags across the topmost knob of Kaeya’s spine where it peeks out of his shirt collar. “You aren’t the only one with aches and pains. All this massaging is doing wonders for my arthritis.”
Kaeya tilts his face and opens his one decent eye. “You don’t have arthritis.” The look Lumine gives him is a little caustic to be just teasing, and winning this argument isn’t worth sleeping on the couch for a week. “You don’t have much arthritis,” he amends, which is a nice middle ground that’ll only get him in a little bit of trouble. “I’d like to see how you’d fare with not just one working eye, but a barely working eye. Did I tell you what Dr. Baizhu said?” A lot about getting old and how eyesight worsens with age, not that Kaeya needed the reminder.
“Hm, I think you’d look good with a monocle.” Kaeya would not. Kaeya would definitely not. Lumine’s mouth curves into a smile, and she continues with, “How is it any different from the eye patch?”
He gapes at her. “How is it any different? Lumine.”
“Oh, so it’s my first name now?”
Kaeya snorts and ignores that. “The eye patch is cool. You know, tall, dark, mysterious—”
“You aren’t even that tall.”
“Beside the point.” Kaeya rolls his eyes and lets loose a breath that puffs up his bangs. “An eye patch gives a certain… je ne sais quoi—”
Lumine laughs, her face creasing with delight. “Still deep into that second honeymoon that we had to Fontaine, I see.”
“It’s got gravitas,” continues Kaeya. “Oomf.”
“And a monocle doesn’t?”
“A monocle screams up upper class, hoity-toity and ancient.”
Lumine hums softly. She still leans against his back, and she turns his face, kissing his temple. “You worry too much. We’re too old to care, and who are you trying to impress anyhow?”
“You,” says Kaeya, unabashedly. “Also, are you done, or do I need to go rub myself on a tree out back?”
Lumine pulls away and rounds the couch before dropping into his lap. She reaches for his eye patch and tugs at it, which Kaeya doesn’t stop. “This,” she says, untying it entirely, “is useless anyhow.” Lumine pulls it away entirely and tosses it to the couch cushion next to them. “You don’t even need it.”
The scar over that eye isn’t truly that bad, but Kaeya’s never liked the staring. The myth of it though, the mystery of the how and the why, and the games that it’s let him play throughout the years— “How am I going to be a Cavalry Captain without an eye patch?”
Lumine’s expression is bemused. “You don’t. And, at least your eyesight matches on both ends now, right? Didn’t Dr. Baizhu say your vision has pretty much evened out? You don’t need a monocle—”
“You just reminded me that I can’t see.”
“You can get a pair of glasses,” says Lumine. “You don’t need to hide this, and then you’d be able to see fine with two lenses.” Her smile widens into a smirk. “And then I wouldn’t be saddled with a beleaguered, ancient husband who looks—what did you say? Hoity-toity. Unless you want to wear that fancy top hat that you bought in Fontaine.”
Kaeya chuckles. “I think I’ll pass on that.” The top hat was a nice souvenir, meant to be put on display as a conversation piece. He can’t fathom wearing it.
“Also, back to the topic of the recruits—”
“Please don’t remind me of them.” Kaeya can’t help cringing. They run in ragged, talk back, and they have no respect.
“That look on your face,” says Lumine, reading his mind. “Should I remind you what you were like not even… ten years ago?”
“Not that bad.”
“Alright—twenty years ago.”
Kaeya’s twenties were wild and frenetic, and no, he doesn’t regret one bit. It also means that Lumine is right, and because she’s a force of nature, he isn’t going to push it, even for the sake of jest.
“Starlight,” he murmurs, cupping her cheeks, thumbing over her beautiful cheekbones. “No need to be so cruel. I thought you were treating me?”
“I was until you started complaining about the monocle.” Lumine combs her fingers through his hair, dragging her nails across his scalp. “For the record, though, I think you’d look very handsome with one. Certainly dashing.”
A crooked grin finds its way onto his mouth. “You have to say that. You’re my wife.”
Lumine raises an eyebrow. “When have I ever given into what a wife should be? You’d have never married me.”
Untrue. While Kaeya was drawn to Lumine’s tenacity, he’d have married any version of her he could get. However— “More like you wouldn’t have married me,” he says with good humor. “I had to win you over, didn’t I?”
Lumine hums at that, tugging at his hair. It’s cropped short nowadays, but still long enough to get a good grip on it. “Still wondering if I made the right choice there.”
“Oh? So the second honeymoon was nothing but a sham?”
This time, Lumine laughs loud enough the Kaeya has to shush her. “Hey, hey— the kids—”
“Haven’t been babies for nearly a year.”
“Exactly. Do you want our teenager coming in here and seeing you…” Kaeya gestures at her vaguely.
“You know what they’d hate worse?” she asks, leaning closer.
Oh, he knows. But Kaeya also wants, so he meets her halfway for a slow and sweet kiss. And that’s it, just a kiss, and him cradling her face, thumbing over all those laugh lines, and crows feet around her eyes.
Kaeya considers himself lucky—more than lucky, and that’s why he never pushes that luck. He can lose an argument or two, or give in to Lumine’s whims if it means another twenty years spent by her side.
Still.
“The recruits,” he says. “Hellions, I’m telling you. You’ll see when you come to teach that special class. And then I’ll tell you so, and you’ll owe me another back rub.”
Lumine kisses the tip of his nose. “I’m not taking that bet, but—”
“There’s that but again.”
“I promise back rubs until these old joints can’t anymore.”
Kaeya smiles, wide and easy. Lumine kisses his scarred eye next, and then his forehead. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me, and you know that. But, on the topic of aching joints—have I told you that my mouth has been sore lately?” Obviously a joke, a well-mannered tease that makes her smile.
Lumine laughs and kisses him again for good measure.