[ the corners of gabriel's mouth slide up as nathan rounds out the other half of the circle made by the ends of their coded couplet, float lightly into that luminous, easy smile. he has the sense nathan thinks of him as a person who smiles often, and maybe that was true once. until the itchy, empty strangeness of a fain body set such heaviness in his mouth a smile felt like bending iron. or maybe before that, when white witches took michele away from him. they didn't see that she was raf's daughter, gabriel's sister; they saw a black candle burning, existing only to be snuffed out. nathan doesn't know that he was what balanced the scales after that, that his magic sang like a siren and drowning felt like the most peaceful thing gabriel had ever done.
he smiles now because he can't help himself, because it is so good, every time, to be reminded that nathan is still here. that gabriel can still stay with him.
even so a note of disquiet tips the curve of his mouth crooked; nathan touches him like he thinks he'll break, or dissipate into mist. but he won't, and clearly he too is reminded of that bathroom, that kiss, the suspended moment stretching the atmosphere thin, because when he does reach out to touch back, his hands settle on either side of nathan's too-slim waist. they pull, more determined than gentle until their bodies press tight together, from shoulders to hips to knocking knees, and the fan of olive branches his fingers make draws up to cup the back of nathan's neck, other arm secured around his waist. ]
Nathan...
[ an inadvertent echo, though more concern than question despite gabriel's lilty accent. there's a way he says nathan's name only in circumstances like this, like it's a raw wound that hurts because nathan hurts.
they're close enough that consonants turn into caresses, those not-quite-kisses where they share breath, one soul between them. ]
no subject
he smiles now because he can't help himself, because it is so good, every time, to be reminded that nathan is still here. that gabriel can still stay with him.
even so a note of disquiet tips the curve of his mouth crooked; nathan touches him like he thinks he'll break, or dissipate into mist. but he won't, and clearly he too is reminded of that bathroom, that kiss, the suspended moment stretching the atmosphere thin, because when he does reach out to touch back, his hands settle on either side of nathan's too-slim waist. they pull, more determined than gentle until their bodies press tight together, from shoulders to hips to knocking knees, and the fan of olive branches his fingers make draws up to cup the back of nathan's neck, other arm secured around his waist. ]
Nathan...
[ an inadvertent echo, though more concern than question despite gabriel's lilty accent. there's a way he says nathan's name only in circumstances like this, like it's a raw wound that hurts because nathan hurts.
they're close enough that consonants turn into caresses, those not-quite-kisses where they share breath, one soul between them. ]
Nathan. Was I lost?