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The Sun had already shrunken to a smaller point than Saturn was used to—well, save for the horrid period of time they’d all spent out of the Solar System—and he kept glancing back at him occasionally the farther they moved, judging just how far they’d gotten. And out here it was colder and colder the farther they traveled, his own core doing most of the work to keep him comfortable rather than the Sun’s increasingly weak sunlight.
Jupiter’s gravity was the strongest thing he could feel for ages, coiled around him comfortably, towing him along a little faster than he’d have traveled on his own. “Jupi,” he hummed, “Can you sense them yet?” He reached out and caught Jupiter’s hand before he could reply, fingers intertwining together easily.
Jupiter’s were warm against his own, his single ring clinking against Saturn’s set.
“Not yet,” Jupiter told him, squeezing gently. “But I don’t think it’ll be much longer. There’s something.”
It still felt odd to leave their orbits so naturally, without fear of the Sun noticing and blasting off a solar flare in an attempt to chase them back to where they were meant to be. Saturn had never been too scared of that, but he’d never quite wanted to be blasted with a solar flare, either. For a good while he’d only traveled between his and Jupiter’s orbits, taking every advantage to spend time with his husband while it was entirely uncontrolled.
It was Jupiter who’d brought it up.
“I… I was thinking, Saturn,” he’d said, while Saturn had been tucked against his side and half-asleep. “Uranus and Neptune. When’s the last time you can remember either of us visited them without needing something?”
Saturn had sleepily murmured, “I have no honest idea, darling.”
And then a moment later he’d sat up quickly enough to startle Jupiter at the realization that they hadn’t in such a long while it might as well have never happened at all—Saturn had known they’d never done the best job at including the ice giants in things, but… well, it just seemed so wrong to think they’d neglected them.
But they had. They totally and completely had. They’d neglected the ice giants.
(Jupiter had been quite concerned when he’d burst into tears.)
Twirling one strand of hair around a finger, Saturn nodded. “I’m sure they’re right around the metaphorical corner!” He was glad to see Jupiter’s mouth twitch into a half-smile before he disentangled their fingers and instead reached out to pull his hand away from his hair. “Hmm?”
“You’re nervous?”
“Of course not,” Saturn denied, brows pinching. “I’m only—well, what if they’re busy?”
“Then we’ll come back another time,” Jupiter told him, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
Saturn nearly melted. Nearly.
“What if they’d rather we don’t come at all?” he asked instead, taking comfort in Jupiter’s gravity curling tighter around him. “What if they’ve given up on us completely?” His core went colder at the thought, heavier in his chest.
Jupiter was quiet for long enough that he finally looked over only to find that his husband wore a considering expression with his lips pressed together thin. “Then I think we’ve earned that,” he finally murmured, glancing over a moment later with a determined set to his jaw, “and we come back another time anyway. We’re not going to allow our neglect to continue a moment longer.”
“No,” Saturn agreed, nodding. “We’re not. This is a new opportunity we can’t let slip through our fingers!”
Jupiter’s expression softened into fondness that made his own core clench.
“Indeed.”
Neptune was already in Uranus’s orbit, to their relief—it made it much easier on them, rather than having to search out the ice giants one by one.
It was much colder than Saturn had expected it to be, even having already been out this far and even farther, but both ice giants looked comfortable as ever. “Neptune! Uranus!” he called out, waving jauntily in their direction. “Are you two darlings busy?”
Uranus glanced at them in obvious confusion, while Neptune returned his wave just as jauntily, his curls floating wildly around his head. Saturn couldn’t help admiring the brilliant blue curls—they always looked so pretty no matter what—before turning his attention back to the moment.
“G’day, mate,” Uranus greeted, clearly still confused. “Something going on? The Sun need us?”
“Nothing’s happened, darling,” Saturn reassured. “Nobody needs anybody. Jupi and I simply came to visit you and Neptune.” Uranus blinked, exchanged a glance with Neptune—who simply blinked back, one eye at a time in that odd manner Saturn had noticed before—and then smiled oddly, lips pulled back.
“…Why?” he asked.
Saturn felt his core twist at the honesty in his question—Uranus really couldn’t fathom any reason why they’d just… visit?
How could they have ruined things with the poor ice giants so badly?
“Because we wanted to,” Jupiter said, when it became obvious Saturn wasn’t going to offer his own answer. “And because we should have a long time ago. I… I don’t have a better answer for why we didn’t, why we haven’t until now. I’m sorry. To both of you.”
Neptune blinked each eye again, then said a cheerful, “Okey dokey! You two can hang out if you want to. We don’t have to stay in our orbits anymore, remember?”
Uranus, meanwhile, still looked as if he thought their sudden appearance was some elaborate hallucination. Saturn could feel his gravity reaching out towards them like he was checking they actually existed, and he reached back with his own, nudging until Uranus looked at him. “Well, my dear icy friends, what shall we do?”
Uranus opened his mouth, then closed it immediately. Neptune tipped his head to the side and tapped at his chin, lips pursed exaggeratedly. “I know!” he announced a moment later, throwing an arm around Uranus. “Uranus paints! He’s so good at it, he did one of me and it looked exactly like me, I thought I was looking in a mirror even though there’s no mirrors in space! Ura, you should show them the—”
Cheeks turning visibly red, Uranus struggled out from beneath Neptune’s arm. “Neptune, mate, quiet!”
Neptune didn’t stay quiet. “—the ones you’ve made of Saturn! There’s so many of those.”
“He’s just joking,” Uranus said, slipping a hand over Neptune’s mouth and wearing a painful-looking grin. “I mean—I-I do paint! He’s not joking about that. But I don’t paint Saturn—well, I mean I don’t have a lot of paintings of Saturn, and—and bloody hell, I’m making a fool of myself.” He said the last part in a much quieter voice, more to himself than them.
Saturn exchanged a glance with Jupiter, fighting a fond smile.
“We know you paint, darling.”
“I’ve seen one of them before, remember?” Jupiter laid a hand against the back of his neck, rubbing with an embarrassed expression. “Though I don’t think I paid much attention to it in the moment. My apologies for that, Uranus. You deserved a lot better then.”
“I… what, mate?”
Neptune wriggled free from Uranus’s grip quickly enough that it was obvious he could have done it the whole time. “I remember that! You painted a black hole in the middle of the Solar System.” He paused, eyes lighting up. “Wow! I remember that. Isn’t that fun?”
“Yeah, mate,” Uranus said, sighing. “I’m glad you do. Really.”
Saturn clapped his hands together, rings clinking against each other. The sound caught both Uranus and Neptune’s attention as they both glanced over, funnily enough wearing the exact same expression. How adorable. “I think I’d love to see your paintings! I’m sure they’re absolutely wonderful, Uranus.”
Uranus blinked at him. “You… do?”
“Of course! Is that really so surprising?”
“You have to admit, mate… yeah, it is.” Uranus grabbed the end of his braid, toying with it.
Saturn knew he was right, but the words still stung. “Well, I really am sorry that we’ve neglected both of you so. Jupiter and I are simply determined to make up for it. Starting with this… if you’re willing, Uranus? Please?”
He laughed, the sound strained. “Mate, sorry, but I am not showing off any of my paintings.”
Saturn’s smile slipped a little bit, his core twisting.
Uranus coughed. “But I… uh, we can all try to paint something? Together? I have plenty of supplies. And it’s fun, I promise.”
His smile returned, cheeks aching from the force of it.
“It is,” Neptune eagerly added. “I’ve painted a lot of asteroids!”
“You know, are you ever going to give that paint back to me, mate?”
“Nope!”
Uranus sighed. “Blazes, why’d I even ask?”
Thoroughly entertained by their dynamic, Saturn exchanged an amused glance with Jupiter—who was also watching, his hands hooked together behind his back—and then happily agreed, “I’m up for some painting, darling! And I’d love to see what we can all create.”
Looking between the three of them, Uranus finally shrugged.
“Right-o, then. Looks like we’re painting.”
And while Uranus set to materializing everything they’d apparently need, Saturn turned to Jupiter and nudged an elbow into his side, smiling brilliantly at him.
They’d done it!
And Saturn was never going to let the ice giants fall to the wayside again, not if he had anything to do about it.