Work Text:
You don't think you'll ever forget the first time Elliott lit up at the sight of a pomegranate.
It was still early days in your relationship. The two of you were embarking on what you hoped was a very date-like stroll through the Cindersap forest with an objective: a mini adventure to the travelling merchant's cart.
Part of the reason you had fallen so hard for Elliott was his natural ability to inject a sense of wonder into even the most ordinary moments. He always had a kind word, a softer way of viewing things, and an ease about him that just felt like coming home, right from the get-go. You had somehow known even back then, that he would always be a safe place to land.
"One always feels a small thrill at the thought of what they might find. Isn't that right, my muse?" He had been waxing poetic; arms clasped respectfully behind his back, voice resonating with the warmth of the day, wrapped up around you like a cozy blanket.
Leaning in, you affectionately nudged his shoulder, the two of you stepping up to the cart to browse her wares. When his eyes lit on the pomegranate, he reached out with utmost care, picking up the fruit with a gasp of joy spilling from his lips.
Elliott held it aloft, dappled in the early morning light, as he turned the deep red over with eager fingers, excited to share his joy with you.
“Do you know,” Elliott chirped, “how long it’s been since I’ve even seen a pomegranate, let alone held one?” he sighed, smiling wistfully before handing it back to the merchant.
“Just that small taste was a feast for my senses. Thank you for inviting me out for this spontaneous moment of joy."
This wouldn't stand. Not when such a simple thing brought him so much delight.
Mind made up, you turned back to the merchant, sliding over some gold in exchange for the treat, much to Elliott’s alarm.
“Please, I don’t want you to feel obligated. Truly, you don’t have to—”
You silenced his worries with a kiss, hand coming up to rest gently against his cheek. Elliott's whole body seemed to relax under your touch, any further protests dying on his lips.
“I know I don’t have to," you murmured, "I want to, my bard."
“Besides,” you'd said, whispering with a sly grin, “I’ve never actually tried a pomegranate before. I was hoping you could show me the best way to peel and enjoy it without making too much of a mess.”
"Oh, so it's instruction you seek?" he'd said, murmuring so close to your lips that you could feel the heat of his breath. "Then I shall endeavour to impress you with my skills," he murmured, clearly happy he would be able to return this favour in some small way and not be chided for wanting; for letting himself be taken care of.
Because even back then, you had lived for the little moments where it clicked; watching for that smile return fully to his face, transforming it into something softer, happier. It was in the way comprehension bloomed over time where uncertainty once resided. It was in how he began to carry the easy confidence of knowing he was wanted. How it finally overshadowed the voices in his head that had told him his whole life he wasn't worth the time or attention.
And with that one simple act, it was so much more than just a rekindled love of pomegranates that took hold that day. It was one of the first bricks laid in a future you were starting to build together.
☆☆☆
Those early days had felt like pure magic; back when your love for him had first taken root and blossomed.
Back when the farm had still been a complete disaster. Echoes of what once was, pebbled across the property like promises of what could be.
So, when it came time to tackle the orchard, there was never any doubt in your mind.
Pomegranate saplings as fresh and new as your affection at the time entered the earth, as if to say "I choose you. I want you. The life I am building now, wants you in it always."
Because he was already choosing you back then too, in a million different ways.
In the way his perfectly constructed persona would crack in your presence. Careful curation giving way to a lopsided grin meant only for you.
In the way you started appearing in his writing. Pieces of you scattered across the page like moondust. Moments he never wanted to forget. His love captured in ink and parchment.
When your inkling turned to love, turned to forever, it was hard to explain just how right married life felt to others. How things just clicked into place; a missing piece finally reunited with the bigger picture. The changing of the seasons were somehow easier now - softer - with him by your side.
After Elliott moved in, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. He'd wake up early just to press a freshly brewed cup of coffee into your hands and a kiss to your lips.
You'd gather eggs for breakfast, while he took it upon himself to water the crops.
He'd never realized how you'd been making room for him all this time. Long before his arrival was set in stone. Your love for him seen in flowers blooming in brilliant shades of red; the star shaped blossoms concealing their secret in plain sight.
It was laughably easy to keep the orchard's mystery tucked away for the right moment. When he had moved in at the end of last fall, the fruit had already come down from the trees. It had been a small yield - a promise of greater things to come - that you had promptly captured and transformed into jam.
On early winter mornings, you'd watch, delighted, as he indulged; generously scooping red jewelled sweetness onto fresh bread. Licking sticky fingers and even sticker kisses from lips creased in a permanent smile these days.
In the spring, you'd take walks through the orchard when the blossoms were in their full majesty, Elliott remaining blissfully unaware of their fast approaching metamorphosis. He would stop and linger by the delicate petals as you stifled a laugh, marvelling at the flowers he'd dubbed his little crimson stardrops. One sunny morning he even leaned in, breathed deeply, and declared that they reminded him of good memories and love in full bloom.
☆☆☆
As the months passed, you'd decided, almost serendipitous, to save the reveal for his birthday. The soft yellow orange of the fruit had been fully ripening to its signature crimson red; the branches beginning to bow under the weight of their bounty.
Greeting him that morning with a gentle nudge of your nose against his cheek, you listened as the deep steady rhythm of sleep gave way to a long, happy sigh. He took his time, stretching languidly. Each movement slow and deliberate, waiting until you dropped your guard before he pounced.
Arms wrapped around you as Elliott peppered your face with a barrage of kisses, your laughter breaking the silence of the room as you squeaked in delight.
"Did you know," he said, tone low and gravelly, still clinging to sleep, "that this is my first birthday as a married man?"
"I hear that's the rumour going around, yes," you replied between giggles.
"In my estimate, that already makes this my favourite birthday ever." Emotion catches in his throat, his voice cracking as he attempts to maintain an already crumbling composure.
So you kiss him. Again and again until those almost tears turn to laughter. Your only goal today is to keep that smile on his face.
"Oh no!" you joke, "What if I've wasted all the good surprises on this year? No future birthdays will ever live up to the expectations I'm about to set!" The back of your hand tips to your forehead, as you feign woe, collapsing on to your pillow with Elliott following close behind.
"You have… surprises for me?" He asks innocently, and curse him, he knows that sweet, unassuming look in his eyes is your absolute weakness.
Nodding, the two of you climb out of bed, slowly getting dressed. You don your jeans and plaid shirt, while Elliott slips into his red jacket and green trousers, looking every bit the long line of elegance that captured your heart on that very first morning you meet.
He's about to set the coffee to boil, when you stop him with a hand to his forearm.
"Walk with me first?" you beckon, suddenly shy. You’re somehow worried that once he figured out you created this for him so long ago, he might think it a bit outlandish, or perhaps even foolish? Fruit trees weren't exactly a conventional gift, after all.
But then you look at him, his curious smile, his soft eyes and know. Nerves evaporating like mist in the sun.
Elliott nods and sets down the kettle, helps bundle you into your jacket with care. A smile clings to your lips, as he adjusts the collar, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His trust is unshakable. If you had told him you were taking him swimming, he'd have packed a swimsuit without question, regardless of the chill in the air.
The sun is just breaching the horizon over the mountain as you crest the little hill to the orchard. On your way, the two of you pass through the familiar peach and nectarine trees, having already offered up their bounty earlier this year. The apples come next. Crisp and clinging to morning dew as Elliott closes his eyes and breathes in deeply.
"This was such a lovely idea, my muse," he says, jovial lilt to his voice. "I don't think I've been up to the orchard since peach season ended," he admits.
You're well aware, feigning ignorance as you pretend to think it over with him. "You know, my heart. I think you're right! Autumn has always been more your season anyways," you chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze, trying to occupy his attention as best you can as you round the final row of apple trees to the now ripe pomegranates along the edge of the orchard.
You feel a slight tug on your hand and realize he's stopped in his tracks, simply staring at the trees in front of him.
He lets out a little "oh," carried on the breeze, barely above a whisper, before stepping forward with a confused happy expression at the abundance before him.
"I didn't… were you aware—" he trails off, the smile spreading across his face is so wide that it sets off a fluster of joy in your belly as you watch him reach out and pluck a pomegranate from the tree.
"Happy birthday, Elliott," you whisper, coming up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist, leaning your head on his shoulder.
He leans against you, sinking into your arms from behind, shoulders bobbing up and down in what you assume is laughter, but quickly discover are tears.
"Oh, love, Ell, are you ok?" you ask as he turns to face you.
In way of answer, you get swept into his arms. Kissed so deeply and so thoroughly, you think for a brief moment that he might have to carry you back to your home with how your legs have turned to jelly. You feel the smile on his hot lips pressed to yours; taste the salt of his tears, the noise that breaks against your mouth is equal parts joy and disbelief.
"I've never… when did you find the time to… how?"
You giggle, breathing in his astonishment a moment longer before telling him. Relieved to finally be able to let the secret out after all this time. It turns from mystery to awe in the span of a few murmured sentences. You see the way his mind works, the timeline of your love that he draws on, going over and over in his head just how long you knew you've wanted him in your life.
"Even back then?" he says in pure shock.
"Yes, my bard. Even back then."
No question. No hesitation. Just that same sense of rightness you've felt in his presence since the very beginning.
Elliott can't stop holding you. Can't stop kissing you as he rocks you in his arms and marvels at the gift.
"It's so much more than a tree, my muse," he murmurs into your hair as you let the man you love find his words.
"It's everything you've ever said to me about love made real. Every time I doubted. Every time I felt myself lacking in some way, you already held me in your heart. Every worry," he says, gulping back tears that threaten to spill again, "every time I fretted. Tormented myself wondering if I would ever be enough, you were already claiming me, planting my roots in this land like I was already a part of it."
He trails off again, the full realization of what you've done for him finally settling on his features, and then he throws his head back and laughs long and loud, full of sparkling, wondrous joy.
"Do you know," he beings with a twinkle in his eyes, "that you might have been on to something."
You tilt your head curiously at him, recognizing the hint of a joke buried under all that elation.
"Yeah? In what way, my love?"
"No future birthdays may ever live up to this gift. I fear I have been utterly, irredeemably, spoiled."
You gasp, coming in to tackle him playfully, but he's ready and waiting, scooping you up and spinning you around. You have no choice but to cling, your arms flying around his neck as you hold on with a surprise laugh.
When he finally puts you down, you're both breathless, giggling like a pair of fools in love: because you are.
"Every birthday moving forward will automatically be better than the last," he says, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye, "made true by the simple fact that I get to spend them with you."
You eventually make it back to the house, hands full of pomegranates, hearts full of love.
Art done by the amazing oldowlshollow
