After a long week that ended with Sören having to work Thursday night into Friday afternoon, the very last thing Sören wanted to do with his Friday night was go out with Anthony's friends to have drinks, and yet here he was. Between the early darkness in October, the exhaustion, and being bored out of his mind listening to Anthony's friends go on about the latest things they'd spent their money on, Sören was already sleepy; a couple of beers and he started to fade. He leaned against Anthony, and the next thing he knew he was in that half-asleep state where his mind wandered randomly until the world just seemed to disappear.
And then he woke up to Anthony gently tapping him. "Sören, love."
"Wha?" When Sören realized he was in public, he sat up with a start and a gasp.
Trisha laughed like this was the funniest thing in the world.
"I thought about throwing water in your face," Steve said.
Sören shot him a filthy look - that wouldn't have ended well. Before he could say something, Anthony spoke, gritting out, "A bloody good thing you didn't."
"Yeah, well." Steve chuckled. "The snoring was getting a bit much."
"Oh god, I was snoring?" Sören felt mortified, wanting to crawl under the table and die.
Anthony patted him. "Just a little."
Steve snorted and then he started making over-the-top, exaggeratedly loud snoring noises. Jack, Trisha, and Vincente laughed; Steve played it up, snoring even louder. Lawrence looked slightly uncomfortable but didn't say anything.
"Sören did work seventy hours this week," Anthony said. "It was good of him to come along at all."
"That's rough," Jack said. "I don't know how you do it."
"It can be very trying." Sören managed a thin, forced smile. Not as trying as the lot of you.
"Well, we should probably get home and get you to bed," Anthony said.
Thank fuck, Sören thought to himself, but simply nodded and squeezed Anthony's arm.
"Before you two go, I'm having an impromptu party on the yacht tomorrow night," Jack said. "You know, while it's still October, before it gets too cold for that sort of thing."
Sören had to go to work early tomorrow morning but he would in fact have Saturday night off. He'd been hoping to spend some time with Anthony, just the two of them, relaxing. Being on the yacht around Anthony's friends wasn't his idea of relaxing.
But he didn't want to disappoint Anthony or make him feel suffocated, so he looked at Anthony and let him make the call. Anthony asked, "What time?"
"Eight PM."
"I think we can manage it."
Sören tried to not let his frustration show. It's just one more night and then we won't be obligated to deal with them again till next month. But he was so tired and really needed a night that didn't involve dealing with people who weren't Anthony. Nonetheless, he kept it to himself in the car ride home - he didn't want to argue, and he was too exhausted to try to muster resistance anyway. Sören started to fall asleep again in the passenger's seat.
Before they got home, Sören's nap was disturbed by a very loud sneeze from Anthony.
"Blessi þig," Sören said without thinking about it.
Anthony sniffled.
"You OK?" Sören asked, not used to hearing Anthony sneeze like that.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Anthony nodded, and smiled at Sören, patting him.
"I'm sorry I fell asleep in there," Sören said, though he wasn't, really.
"I feel bad for asking you to come along," Anthony said. "I knew you were tired, but..."
"Oh, it surprised even me." Sören nodded. "It's been a really long week, but I've worked seventy-hour weeks without falling asleep in public before." Usually because I didn't go out in public. I worked and I went home.
"You know..." Anthony gave him a concerned look. "We don't have to go to Jack's thing tomorrow night -"
As badly as Sören wanted to cling to Anthony and cry out please, no, let's just stay home, he didn't want Anthony to feel like he was missing out on having a life, chained to a partner - not that Anthony had ever given that impression, but Sören knew that before they got together he'd been more socially active. And as much as Sören didn't like Anthony's friends and felt he could do better, Sören understood the bullied kid inside him needed to feel like he had a clique.
But Sören didn't want to encourage him to go, either. So he said only, "We'll see what we're up for, I guess."
Anthony nodded, and then he sneezed again.
By the time they got upstairs, Anthony was sniffling enough that Sören wondered if he was coming down with something... or perhaps had a chemical sensitivity to fragrances and hair care products people had on in the bar. Anthony put on tea when they came inside.
"Do you want me to draw you a hot bath?" Anthony asked.
Sören would normally take him up on the offer any other night - taking bubble baths was one of his favorite things, and especially when Anthony joined him. But tonight he was too tired even for that. He would have some tea to warm his bones, feeling a little self-conscious that he was a bit chilly when it was only October and not cold by Icelandic standards, and Sören usually ran warm to begin with. But then Sören just wanted to go to bed and sleep till he had to wake up at five to get ready for a seven AM start. "Not tonight, I'll shower in the morning."
They had tea, brushed their teeth and got in their pajamas, and Anthony followed Sören to bed. They cuddled up together and Anthony sniffled some more. He now looked as tired as Sören felt, and it was telling he wasn't trying to initiate sex, not even a blowjob.
"Are you sure you're OK?" Sören asked.
"Yes." Anthony kissed his cheek and tightened his arms around him.
"OK." Sören wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to press it just yet. He tousled Anthony's hair - he could get away with that. "I love you, elskan."
"I love you." Anthony squeezed him and rocked him a little. Then he chuckled.
"What?"
"You were cute, falling asleep in there."
"I can't believe I was snoring in public."
"It wasn't as bad as Steve made it sound."
"Steve's a jackass." Sören was too tired to keep that opinion to himself.
"Yeah, he is." Anthony sighed. "I would have punched him if he'd thrown water at you."
"Yeah, that shit isn't funny."
Anthony patted him. "But he didn't."
No, not this time. And Sören suddenly felt a twinge of concern about going out with them again when he was this tired, if he ended up falling asleep in front of them.
"And he knows, now, I hope my tone sent him a message." Anthony rubbed Sören's curls and kissed the top of his head.
I hope so too. But Sören felt like that shouldn't have even had to be said, like it was just plain courtesy to not throw water in someone's face. Steve's callousness in general had never endeared him, but Sören felt like a line had been crossed and it bothered him that Anthony associated with Steve at all.
I don't want to come off as controlling and say "you can't be friends with him." I don't want to be that guy.
Sören also didn't want to think about serious things when he was this tired. It was enough, for the moment, that they were back home, safe in their nest. Sören snuggled closer to Anthony, and soon enough he was back asleep.
Anthony and Sören both groaned when the alarm went off at five the next morning. Sören had never been a morning person but it was even more difficult than usual to get ready this morning, he was still exhausted despite having gone early to bed (for him) and having gotten a full night's sleep.
Anthony was a morning person, but for once he also seemed like he was having trouble waking up and would rather go back to bed. Anthony had a pained look on his face over breakfast and every now and again made little noises of discomfort. Sören knew he wasn't hungover - since Anthony had been driving, he'd limited his alcohol intake.
Anthony still escorted Sören out to the Audi when it was time for Sören to leave for work. "Are you very sure you want to drive this morning?" Sören asked, concerned. "I can take the Tube -"
Anthony shook his head. "I can drive you."
In the parking lot of National they lingered, as they did, clinging to each other. Anthony made another little discomfort noise into Sören's shoulder.
"Are you OK?" Sören cupped Anthony's chin in his hand.
"I'm fine." Anthony managed a thin smile and patted him. "I had a rough week last week too, just... worn out, I think."
"OK." Sören kissed the tip of his nose.
But while Sören was at work, he still worried. He'd seen what Anthony was like stressed out and even exhausted, and this seemed a bit above and beyond what was normal for him. Sören wondered again if Anthony was ill, and wondered if maybe he shouldn't be at work right now, potentially passing on whatever it was.
He didn't have to wonder anymore four hours later, when Sören was on his first break and had a sneezing attack in the break room, and when he got up to get tissues he hurt all over, and was starting to feel too warm.
Ed came in when Sören was wiping his now-runny nose, took one look at him and said, "Sigurðsson, go home."
Before Sören could apologize - even though he didn't ask to be sick, and he'd gotten a flu shot and everything - he sneezed again, and when the sneezing was over he just nodded and scrubbed out.
Sören texted Anthony. On my way home, I'm sick.
Anthony texted back five minutes later. Me too. I'd come get you but I'm camped out in the bathroom at the moment.
Sören sighed - he wasn't mad at Anthony, he didn't ask for it either, but Sören knew it would be hard enough if just one of them had flu, they were in for a difficult few days if they both had it. Sören also knew they were going to need some groceries to survive the next week, and as much as he didn't want to expose the public, he was in a better position than Anthony to go out and get provisions. You stay there, I'll be home soon.
Sören wore a mask and gloves at the supermarket, picking up Gatorade and orange juice and soups and saltine crackers and bread for toast, and over-the-counter cold medicine. A few people paused in their tracks and gave him strange looks, obviously not used to the sight of someone in medical scrubs with a mask and gloves at the store. The cashier was especially leery, but the worst part of all was the ride home, where people kept a wide berth as they could in a tight train car and shot him filthy glances, like he was a plague carrier.
By the time Sören got home he had chills bad enough that he was shaking, and his stomach roiled up the flight of stairs. He almost didn't make it to the bathroom, which was thankfully empty.
Once he was done and washed up, he went back to the kitchen to put the groceries away. Every part of him ached. He managed to make tea, and assembled a tray of tea, Gatorade and saltines, putting it on the bedtable before crawling into bed. Anthony was buried in covers and made a pathetic little noise in greeting when Sören got in the bed. Sören chuckled softly and patted him; Anthony moved the covers to give Sören half. Sören handed him a cup of tea and Anthony sat up weakly and leaned on him to drink.
"How are you doing?" Sören asked.
"Terrible." Anthony sniffled.
Sören pressed a hand to his cheek - he was too warm. Sören kissed him, got up, his body complaining all the way, went back to the bathroom to the medicine cabinet, and came back with the cold medicine and a thermometer. He took Anthony's temp then his own; they were both running mild fevers.
Sören was bone-tired and hurt all over, the ache made worse by the trembling with chills. Then when he tried to sleep, he was too hot and didn't sleep long, sweaty and uncomfortable. Anthony was having the same trouble. They made grumpy noises together, stuck in that place of not really being able to sleep but being too achy and head-muddled to actually do anything. They ended up putting on the TV and zoning out while they waited for the cold-and-flu medicine to kick in. There was a block of bad classic sci-fi movies airing and they lay there, somewhat high, watching Highlander II and then Plan 9 From Outer Space. The latter had them in hysterics, with the cheesiness of it amplified under the influence of the cold medicine.
Then they lay there, cuddling, huddled for warmth as they had another bout of chills, giving them both gooseflesh. "I hate this," Anthony moaned, his teeth chattering.
"Shhh, I know. Soon we can take another dose of cold meds and hopefully that'll knock us both out for awhile."
"Soon?" Anthony made a little whine. "That's forever."
Sören chuckled. "Remember that future events will affect you in the future."
Anthony laughed, and then he moaned, "Ow."
"Awwwwww." Sören passed him a Gatorade. "Here. We both need to keep hydrated."
They took turns nipping from the bottle and then they sunk back under the covers. Sören's entire body throbbed, protesting even the smallest movements.
Sören called out for Sunday and Monday just to be on the safe side, hoping he wouldn't have to call out beyond that. After the call ended, Anthony said, "I already told Jack tonight is a no-go."
"Good." Sören climbed back under the covers.
Sören thought it was really something that even as awful as he felt, he was still having a better time than he probably would have had on Jack's yacht. Sören rolled closer to Anthony, who put an arm around him. "I liked watching bad sci-fi movies with you."
"Yeah, me too." Anthony gave him a little kiss. "We should do that again when we're feeling better."
"We could make something of a tradition out of it. If we're both going to be home on a Saturday night, we could watch terrible movies together."
"I like that idea."
After the next dose of cold-and-flu medicine they attempted more sleep. Sören burned up, waking up too hot and frantically throwing the covers off, then frantically pulling them back over him when he started shivering again. He ran to the bathroom in the middle of the night and then had to run back a short while later, and after the third run, when his body felt too achy and weak to keep doing this he just lay there on the cool linoleum floor of the bathroom, waiting for the next stomach attack. He ended up dozing off on the bathroom floor, and when Anthony opened the bathroom door it woke Sören up, and Sören was now even more painfully stiff from having slept on the bathroom floor for awhile. Sören started to cry, feeling irrational.
"Oh, honey." Anthony helped Sören up, and held him for a minute. Then Anthony grimaced and Sören knew why he'd come in the bathroom. Anthony quickly dropped to his knees in front of the toilet.
Now it was Anthony's turn to cry. "Oh god." When Sören gave him a cup of water, Anthony sobbed on Sören's shoulder. "Oh god, I'm so sorry you saw that..."
Sören patted him. "I'm a doctor. I've seen far worse. I could tell you stories of what people have done in front of me -"
"I bet, but... still. That was decidedly unsexy."
Sören smoothed Anthony's sweat-damp hair and kissed his brow. "I love you. Neither of us are glamour models right now, but that doesn't matter to me." What did matter was that Sören knew what Anthony's gut was doing to him - Sören's stomach had been doing the same thing - and Anthony still took a moment when he was having stomach cramps and the urge to be sick, and held Sören because Sören had been crying. Sören felt that tight ache in his chest, loving Anthony fiercely. "We're in this together," Sören husked, petting him.
They leaned on each other and supported each other on the way back to the bed, weak and exhausted. When they climbed back in the bed Anthony made more noises of discomfort. Sören brought over a bottle of Gatorade and began to open a packet of saltines.
"Ugh, I'm not hungry," Anthony moaned.
"Neither am I, but we haven't eaten since yesterday morning breakfast and we need to get our strength up." Sören shoved a cracker into Anthony's mouth.
They were due for another dose of cold-and-flu medication and once that was taken, they pulled up the covers and clung to each other. Sören had another bout of chills, and he could feel Anthony shivering as well. Then the searing heat came back as Sören slipped back into sleep.
Sören is in the body not his own again, impossibly tall, impossibly long dark hair. He is in a forge, his workshop. Instead of hammering steel he is making glass.
And not just any glass, but a jewel. Something like a diamond, but even brighter... like a small lamp.
Like a small sun. Like a small supernova. Brighter and brighter.
There is not just the physical process of making glass, but also magic involved. He is in a trance and pushing energy, pushing energy, weaving light, fire from within.
He is utterly consumed with the process, spending hours, days, forsaking food, sleep, breathing and breathing into the stone. The breath of fire.
Other people are trying to get him to come out of his workshop, worried for him. Every part of him aches, like the way he was aching now sick. He is feverish, burning up, drenched and dripping sweat, mouth parched, the forge too hot. He needs water. He needs air. But he needs this more. His tribute to his brother-lovers, the way he feels for them. Carry the fire. Carry the Light.
Sören woke to the sound of bells chiming, and a horrible buzzing. It wasn't from a distance, but right there in the bedroom. Sören made a noise and buried his face into the pillow. The pillowcase and sheets were drenched with sweat, and so was Sören's T-shirt and boxer-briefs. He felt absolutely disgusting.
The chiming and buzzing continued and then Sören opened one eye as Anthony swore under his breath; he watched Anthony grab his phone.
"Hello, Mum."
Sören managed a smile, despite his grumpy mood.
"Ugh, Sören and I both have flu, I think." Anthony paused, and Sören could hear Elaine's voice rising, rapid-fire. Anthony facepalmed and then opened his fingers to glance at Sören between them, and Anthony muttered, "No, Mum, you don't have to come over. Sören stopped at the store before he came home yesterday..." Elaine went on, and then Anthony said, "No, Mum, really, and you know flu is more dangerous for the elderly -"
Sören could hear, clear as day, "You're only as old as you feel, Cornelius Anthony."
Sören tried not to laugh. Anthony rolled his eyes and said, "Mum, please, don't go out of your way..." And then Sören heard Elaine say, "I'm coming over and that's it. I'll be there soon."
An hour later, Elaine let herself in with a key; Sören was surprised to hear the key in the door. "Yes, I let Mum have a key, in case anything... happens," Anthony said.
"Hellooooooooo," Elaine called as she walked in. "Where are my boys?"
"In the bedroom, Mum."
"Are you decent?"
Anthony snorted. "We're ill, Mum, I think it's safe to say nothing is happening currently."
Elaine ducked her head in and waved to Sören. "Hi, Sören. I'll only be here a few hours, to help with any chores you might need and to make homemade chicken soup."
Sören loved Elaine. "That's very good of you, takk. I hope this isn't inconveniencing you too much -"
Elaine waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense. I was going to invite you both over for Sunday dinner but now Sunday dinner comes to you."
Elaine changed the bed while Anthony and Sören sat and waited - Sören felt self-conscious about Elaine doing this for them, and he could tell Anthony did too, but Sören was almost too weak to get to the bathroom by himself, never mind the task of changing the sheets. After Anthony and Sören climbed back in bed, Elaine tucked them in, and carried the freshly stripped bed linens out to the washer and dryer space in the pantry. Sören heard the washer machine start and then he heard Elaine get to work in the kitchen.
Sören tried to get back to sleep but couldn't, feeling too achy. Anthony didn't look happy either. They curled up together, sniffling, and went back and forth to the bathroom. The TV went on again but they couldn't pay attention, drifting in and out of that half-sleep state, still all too awake. At last Elaine came in. "Do you want soup now, or later?"
Sören and Anthony looked at each other. Sören still didn't have an appetite, but he knew they needed to eat something. "Now, if that's OK."
Elaine brought them soup. Though Sören's nose was stuffed up, what he could smell of it was heavenly, and he wished he had better sense of smell and taste to enjoy it more. Elaine cleaned the bathroom as they ate, and when they were finished she took their dishes and Sören and Anthony huddled back under the covers as Elaine ran the sink and the dishwasher.
Finally Elaine came back in and said, "There's leftover soup in the fridge. I made plenty, so you should have enough for the next couple of days."
"Thank you, Mum." Anthony frowned. "I hope you don't get sick."
"I've had the flu shot," Elaine said, "and I wash my hands."
"I did that too," Sören said.
"You also run yourself into the ground every week, Sören." Elaine gave him a stern look and then she patted his head. "I left you guys some fruit, there's bananas and oranges in the kitchen."
Elaine tucked them in again and then she was off. Sören ended up disturbing the nice tucking in by needing to go to the bathroom again, and then it was Anthony's turn, and then they had chills. They shared a Gatorade and made noises as they cuddled again. Sören started to doze, and then he felt Anthony shaking, heard the distinct sound of crying. He opened his eyes and pet Anthony's hair. "I know, elskan. We'll feel better soon." He kissed Anthony's cheek.
"It's not that."
"Hm?" Sören felt a sharp pang of worry.
Anthony sighed. He tried to not start crying again, but there it was, with him feeling too weak to resist. "You ever have fucked up dreams on cold medicine?"
Sören nodded. He wouldn't classify the forge dream as "fucked up" - more unusual - but it was unsettling anyway, another one of those dreams that felt real, like he was living it.
"I dreamt you were on fire." Their eyes locked. Tears slid down Anthony's face. "You were on fire, you were burning to ash... and I wasn't there. I was far away, too far to be able to get out to you, and... I couldn't, even without the distance. Like something... was... keeping me wherever I was. But I felt it. I saw it, as it was happening, like a vision that I couldn't escape." Anthony started sobbing. "I felt you burning, I felt you dying, and it was awful."
"Oh, Anthony." Sören rocked him. "It was just a dream." But even as those words were out of his mouth, Sören knew better. Sören had been plagued by recurring nightmares of burning to death since he was four years old. He hadn't had one in some time, but they were vivid and intense enough for Sören to never forget them. This, now, was yet another case of something shared between them, but Sören didn't know what. He had more questions than answers, and he was afraid of the answers to these questions.
Anthony cried on Sören's shoulder and his arms tightened around Sören. "I can't lose you again."
"I'm not going anywhere." Sören rocked him, rubbed his back. "I'm right here." And he wondered at the wording - lose you again - as if Anthony's intuition had declared that dream was from the past.
"Stay with me." Anthony held Sören tight enough to hurt, shaking, crying so brokenly it brought tears to Sören's own eyes. "Stay..."
"I'm right here, Anthony." Sören closed his eyes, trying to fight the urge to sob too, crying more quietly. "You've got me." You've got me for the rest of your life, if you want me. But Sören didn't say those words out loud. He just continued to rock Anthony until they both fell back asleep.
The next few days passed in a blur. Ed wouldn't let Sören come in before Thursday, regardless of how Sören was feeling, wanting to make sure he wasn't still contagious, which could be a problem when operating. Anthony was also hit hard enough by the flu to take Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday off, and he spent much of Monday and Tuesday just sleeping. Sören watched him sleep at the times when he woke up and Anthony was still sleeping, admiring how peaceful and downright innocent he looked... hoping that he wasn't having more of those nightmares.
On Wednesday Sören and Anthony weren't quite fully recovered yet, but the fevers had finally broken and they managed to strip the bed again and put the sweat-soaked sheets in the wash, with fresh sheets on the bed. Then Sören prepared two basins of water, one with soap and one without, so they could sponge bathe, since they were still too weak as yet to shower. Sören sponged Anthony first, rubbing in slow, gentle circles. Anthony melted to Sören's touch like a cat being stroked, and as terrible as he felt Sören couldn't help ogling Anthony naked, his own body responding when Anthony hardened to the sponge washing his erogenous zones. When Sören washed Anthony's cock he gasped and moaned, and Sören's cock twinged. As Sören did the back of him he couldn't help trailing kisses down the nicely defined back, and when Anthony moaned again at the sponge on his ass, Sören cursed feeling too ill to give him a proper fucking.
Anthony washed Sören next, giving the same tender loving care, and Sören's arousal deepened as Anthony worked the sponge over every place he knew Sören was sensitive - neck, nipples, stomach, thighs. When the sponge was on his cock and balls Sören's breath hitched and he made a guttural noise, and when the sponge was on his ass, Sören let out a whimper into the pillows.
They were definitely both too exhausted for anything strenuous, but under the covers they kissed, hands roaming as their cocks slid together, and when they got closer Sören took them both in his fist, stroking as the kisses got hungrier, more feverish. They were undone within a few minutes, coming together with a cry, and they rocked together through their orgasm, kissing, petting.
"I love you," Anthony husked.
"I love you too."
Anthony laughed as he snuggled on Sören's shoulder. "Thank you for that."
"The pleasure was mine." Sören kissed his cheek.
A little while later they managed to put on fresh pajamas and Sören heated them up some soup. They ate soup and saltines in bed, feeding each other spoonfuls. After the soup was finished they cuddled and Anthony moaned, "I don't want to go back to work tomorrow."
"I feel that." Sören sighed; Elaine's words about running himself into the ground stuck with him. "We need another vacation."
"Well, it's your birthday in a month." Anthony looked into his eyes. "And our one-year anniversary."
"That fast?" Sören gave a throaty chuckle. It felt paradoxically both like it had been longer and shorter than that.
Anthony nodded solemnly. "You think about where you want to go - I will take you anywhere you want, and I mean that, we just need to clear that entire week."
"I can't think about it now. I can barely remember my own name."
Anthony patted him. "That's why I said 'think'. I'm not expecting an answer right now, when we're both feeling so crap."
"Well, thank you." Sören squeezed him, and once again felt like he had the best boyfriend in the world. "You're so good to me."
"I hope so. You deserve it." Anthony gave him a mock stern look. "Even if you do try my patience sometimes."
"Oh, you love it." Sören glanced around, feeling mischievous. "Poor George, shut away while his parents are sick. We should take him out and get him some air."
Anthony rolled his eyes and chuckled. "George does not need air."
"He's not a fish, he doesn't breathe water." Sören couldn't resist. "Even if he does hang out with a shark."
Anthony buried his face in the pillow and made noises. When he picked his face back up he said, "Well now I know you must be feeling at least a little better, if you can harass me about my wig."
"We could get some air," Sören said. "Might be good for us."
"Right. Bathroom first."
While Anthony was in the bathroom, Sören grabbed George. Anthony was feeling out of it enough that he either didn't notice Sören had the wig or didn't care to remark on it, hobbling downstairs behind Sören. They stepped out onto the sidewalk in their pajamas, watching the sunset together. Anthony put an arm around Sören and leaned on him, and then finally he saw George and looked up at Sören, then back at the wig, then back at Sören, and facepalmed, shaking with silent laughter.
"You're terrible," Anthony said.
"Takk."
Back upstairs, Sören put the wig on the bedtable with Finn and Tony. Anthony laughed, and then he sighed. "I really, really don't want to go to work tomorrow," Anthony said.
"But you're going to anyway."
Anthony nodded. "I have to wonder if I got flu this early into the season because, you know. Stress making me more susceptible."
"That's more likely than you think." Sören sighed and put an arm around him. "We're both worn out. All the time."
"It's like my immune system wanted to give me an excuse to spend time with you, away from it all." Their eyes met.
Sören felt a tight lump in his throat and he pulled Anthony into as strong a hug as he could muster, as weak as he still was. They held each other for a minute and then Sören had an idea, an echo from something he'd done for Anthony months ago, after the bomb threat at his chambers.
When Anthony got in bed, and gave Sören an expectant look to join him, Sören made a fortress of blankets and pillows not in use. He ducked in by lifting up a blanket, and rolled in next to Anthony. "There. At least for tonight, we can take a vacation from the world out there. Nothing can bother us in here."
Anthony gave Sören a long look - for a moment his eyes were too bright, and Sören wondered if he was going to start crying again - and then he grabbed Sören and kissed him hard. Sören pulled up the covers around them and they held each other, rocking together; Sören brought over Finn and Tony. "We're safe here," Sören whispered again, and they kissed.
chapter 27 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index