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“Do you want to see something good?” Max asked one night, sternum pressed to January’s spine as the pair of them waited for River to come back from their late-night meeting. The light in the room was low, muted by the dust-storm shields on the windows; January lingered just at the edge of sleep, slowed by the warmth of Max next to them and the dimness of the room. Songshu could have been on fire, and he wouldn’t have cared.
January never knew how to react when Max asked things like that—it could go either way, really. “Depends; normal-good or marine-good?”
“Normal-good.” Max was already up, fiddling with the security override on the dust shield. In a moment, it rolled back up on itself and disappeared, Max sliding the window open and climbing out.
January nabbed Max’s favorite sweater from where they’d slung it over the arm of a chair as he followed, noting quietly where Max put their feet. They’d done this before, he realized, the path over the shingles sure and practiced. Max glanced back every few moments to make sure he was still alright; on Earth it might have been irritating, but January still wasn’t quite used to consideration here.
“Oh!” January gasped, stopped in his tracks by the sudden view from the roof of Songshu. From here, you could see everything; the city, the solar fields, the train network—and the storm rolling in over it all.
Max wrapped an arm around January and pulled him in tight; despite the wind, slicing right through his pilfered sweater, he never wanted to come down.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Max murmured. “Favourite view in the whole damn place.”
January could see exactly why. On a clear night, the whole city would be lit up like a Christmas tree, a sea of stars mirroring the night sky above. As it was, the dust formed intricate filigree patterns in the air, lit up amber where the lightning shone through.
“How did you know this was here?” January marvelled, eyes still fixed on the valley.
Max fell silent, clutching him closer. “You don’t have to answer that—” January added hastily, but Max shook their head.
“I used to come up here after Aubrey and I fought.” Max started. “It was the one place I didn’t have to worry about making things worse simply by being near them.” Their voice was shockingly free of bitterness, but they still wouldn't look at January.
“And nobody thought to look for you…“ January hazarded a guess—
“Because this part of the roof used to only be accessible through Aubrey’s window, precisely. Literally the only reason the stupid passageway between the Senator and Senator-Consort’s rooms was useful.” Max confirmed.
January didn’t know what to say to that. Max pressed a kiss to January’s forehead, clearly in the hopes of making him smile—it worked.
Now it was January’s turn. “We’ll just have to come up here more often, then,” he shot back, and waited for Max's reaction before he continued. “Make some better memories.”
Max shook their head again, the silver at their temples glittering, but a smile was pulling at the corners of their mouth regardless.
“Tell me you two aren’t on the roof,” a voice half-commanded from the window—a familiar voice, like smoke and sugar.
“I’d tell you that, but I’m worried lying to the Consul might be unethical,” January chirped, and River laughed. Very carefully, January moved closer to the ledge, so he could see their face. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Don’t worry about it. Is there anything, anything I can do to get you two to come inside?” Despite their words, River’s expression was serene as ever as they poked their head out of the window. They were still in their glittering Consul’s circlet, wind running invisible fingers through their hair.
January smiled despite himself—even the weather couldn’t resist them. “Out of luck there, unfortunately. Care to join us?”
“Not for all the water on Earth.” Then, quieter, just a bit of concern beginning to shine through—“please don’t get struck by lightning.”
“Fear not, I’m invincible now.” Max said, in the deadpan tone that always worried the interns. “It was in the contract—the universe had its shot and lost it.”
“Alright, well, please do mind our still-mortal companion. I am going to watch some terrible television and go to sleep; you two are welcome to get off the roof anytime. Preferably before I get an email from Martinez about you two tripping the intruder alarms.” River tacked on with a laugh; despite their words, their voice was fond as they drifted away from the window.
January looked up at Max. “Five more minutes?”
“Five more minutes,” Max agreed.