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Beginning of November 2016

Michael was, admittedly, very new to having an actual relationship with someone. Until now, Michael had been too busy moving around, too busy with his studies, too busy as an officer of the Navy, too busy not wanting to get close to anyone else to actually try to form a relationship.

Sure, he went on dates and sometimes it was with the same person more than once, but until now he hadn’t really cared how many people he was seeing in the meantime.

Once he got out of the Navy, it was the easiest way to distract himself. He knew he was physically attractive to many, and he could fake the personality they wanted as long as it got him where he wanted that night, but all of that had been mostly, miserably, empty. Even those he’d tried to get to know, he just didn’t connect with, most likely because of his own bad attitude about things, hidden under the facade of a well put together young teacher.

But now something had shifted; his closed off, icy nature had slowly started to melt all thanks to one stubborn, reckless, impossibly patient, and kind young man named Caspian Meriadoc Lyons. The same Caspian Meriadoc Lyons who also went by the name of Sailor Remus.

Looking back, Michael wondered just how many times their paths might have crossed and they just never realized it. The fact that things turned out the way they had was both surprising and wonderful. Because somehow, with each conversation and interaction after another, Michael realized he was falling for Caspian, and Caspian apparently had been doing the same for him.

Michael was no stranger to most forms of intimacy, but Caspian was, despite his obvious desire and willingness to be with Michael. Everything they’d experimented with so far had been relatively tame, especially since Michael knew Caspian wasn’t quite ready to take their physical relationship to the next step just yet. Michael was okay with that, with waiting, or with not even going all the way if Caspian wasn’t completely comfortable.

It made Michael wonder if this was how relationships were supposed to be; so deep with someone emotionally that it didn’t matter if every aspect of intimacy was explored. Maybe it was, or maybe he was overthinking things, or not thinking enough.

He was still very aware of their age difference, knowing others would look at it as though there was something wrong with them. Michael was obviously older by a good decade, and probably looked older from stress, and may be seen as taking advantage of someone young and innocent like Caspian. But they wouldn’t be farther from the truth in that Michael wanted nothing more than for Caspian to be happy and comfortable with himself and their new, still somewhat fragile relationship. Fragile, and yet Michael couldn’t imagine allowing it to be so easily broken after everything they’d been through.

They’d talked about it before; Caspian suggesting that they go somewhere to spend some time alone, just the two of them. Originally that weekend was supposed to have been soon after Caspian had returned home from the hospital, but things ended up getting in the way. Preparations for school, bad weather making going out on his sailboat too dangerous, and the occasional injury from fighting youma ended up postponing things. Which may or may not have been good for Caspian. Either it would have given him more time to get used to the idea of more or made him even more anxious than before.

And then finally, after a determined and almost desperate sounding request from Caspian for them to get away this weekend, Michael made sure his schedule was clear of all things for school, and sent his mother back a text declining her suggestion for the family to get together that weekend. He didn’t even bother telling Peter where he planned on going once his bags and cooler of food was packed, just in case his brother accidentally let it slip to the family where he and Caspian would be.

It was midday on Friday when he pulled up to Caspian’s townhouse to wait for him, sending a quick text of Here to his phone. He didn’t bother dressing up, instead settling on a normal grey shirt and dark jeans. His nails had been changed to a dark forest green from the indigo that had been chipping, and Michael had a whole new appreciation for those who took the time to maintain their nails. He had a feeling the school wouldn’t allow the colored nails, but until he was told otherwise, he would still wear them colored, and wouldn’t wash them off without a fight.

“Everything okay?” he asked, waiting for Caspian to put his bag into the back seat and get into the car. Once his boyfriend was settled, he leaned over to give him a quick kiss, although he couldn’t quite wipe his look of concern off his face.




The youma from Caspian’s dreams had eaten him alive.

He hadn’t even meant to fall asleep, but it had been a warm afternoon and he’d gotten tired of the English paper he’d been trying to write, which had been something about the recent developments in another country and its effects on American literature. Caspian had been fine at the start, but slowly the words had begun to blur together and then he’d put his head down on his desk, closed his eyes for “only just a moment” and had immediately fallen asleep.

And had been eaten alive by a youma that had looked like a scorpion.

Something vast and black, with too many limbs, snapping and snarling and enormous, segmented body swaying as it had caught him in vicious pincers. Caspian remembered screaming, the pain ricocheting through his body, but no one had come to save him, because Michael was dead on the ground - dead, dead, and dead, his eyes staring unseeing, his face streaked with blood.

Caspian had awoken screaming, alone, in his room.

It took him some time to get back to reality, his fingers clutching white knuckled to Michael’s sweatshirt, because it was the first thing he had grabbed, burying his face into it. Shaking and sweaty, he’d forced himself to take a shower and now was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase leading up to his bedroom, his bag by his feet, his heart still beating madly in his chest.

He was trying very hard to focus on Michael - on this weekend that they were finally able to have together, on the fact that Michael was very real and very alive and that he was not dead by some bloodthirsty creature in his dreams - but it was hard when he did not have the physical evidence right in front of him.

His phone buzzed. Caspian snatched it up, read the message, and practically bolted out the door, hardly remembering to lock it before he left. Keys and multicolored bracelets jangling, he clambered into the passenger side seat and inhaled a lungful of air, eyes fluttering as Michael leaned over to kiss him.

He was alive. Caspian tried to relax.

“I’m okay,” he said, half truthfully. “I mean. Mostly. I fell asleep and, uh, had a bad dream.”

Caspian forced a smile, his chest still throbbing.

“I’ll be okay in a sec, I’m better now that you’re here.”




Michael eyed him worriedly still, seeing the dark circles under Caspian’s eyes. He was still having trouble sleeping, Michael knew, but just how rough of a time Caspian was having he wasn’t a hundred percent sure, since he didn’t spend every night with him.

“You look horrible,” he frowned, lifting his hand to brush his fingers against Caspian’s cheek, just under his eyes, as if trying to figure out how bad he was having it. His eyes seemed a bit bloodshot, too. Just one more indication of how difficult sleeping was for him.

“It probably wouldn’t hurt if you just slept all weekend,” he suggested, pulling his hand away so he could focus on pulling out of the parking spot and down the road en route to their destination. “Have you thought about taking anything to help?”

He was sure it was the nightmares, still. And that was obvious that this was the case now since Caspian even admitted to having a bad dream. He wished there was more he could do for him.

“Did you want to talk about it?” he gently prodded, holding out his right hand for Caspian to take if he wanted to, or to just leave it with his arm resting between them. Michael was thankful that his nightmares were mostly held back. He was able to control his reactions better when he woke up. Usually. They were still horrible, but they weren’t real.

He hoped they would never be real.




His lips curved up a little, Caspian tilting his head into Michael’s hand, the touch soothing on his flushed skin. “Thanks, Gallo, I like your face too,” he said lightly, but it was said with affection as well, because he knew what Michael meant. The dark circles under his eyes were evidence enough of Caspian’s lack of proper sleep, and he’d probably lost a few pounds simply from stress.

He wanted to bask more in the sweet touch, but Michael had to drive, and Caspian exhaled a long breath.

“I don’t want to sleep the whole weekend,” he mumbled, even if that did sound somewhat appealing. “And I have something somewhere...I don’t need the pain medications anymore, so I’m less drowsy all the time, that’s probably not helping.”

There were still bandages on his wrist, but nothing like the ones he had first worn in the hospital. These were mostly just to keep him from irritating the skin while it healed over, and the ones on his leg and neck were gone completely, something Caspian was eternally grateful for.

He reached out and took Michael’s offered hand, Caspian drawing it up to his mouth to press a kiss to his palm before lacing their fingers together, curling up on the seat so that he could lean with his head resting against Michael’s shoulder. He always felt better this way, close enough to touch.

“Just the same as always,” said Caspian tiredly, holding their joined hands in his lap. “You, dead. Me, dying. A grand party of suckiness.”




“Don’t get cute with me,” he scowled, although it was halfhearted at best. “I’m serious, you need to take better care of yourself. Don’t think your baggy clothes are enough to hide that you’re losing weight,” Michael grumbled to himself as he waited for a light to change, his fingers gripping tightly to Caspian’s as he held their hands together in his lap. He could see it in Caspian’s face; it was more gaunt than usual, and not just from lack of sleep. He wanted to see Caspian’s face bright and cheery and full of life again. Not sleep deprived and jittery.

“I know you can’t help it,” he quickly added, not wanting Caspian to think that he blamed him for the dreams or for not being able to easily compartmentalize everything going on in his life. “I wish I could tell you it’ll get easier, but it might not. I’m not going to lie to you and say the dreams will ever go away… I just… don’t want you to waste away from this…”

He paused, glancing over to Caspian as he leaned his head against his shoulder, black, blue, and purple hair spilling beautifully over his arm. Other than his family, there was nothing more that Michael wanted to protect than Caspian. Caspian practically was his family now.

“What can I do? There has to be something, Cas,” he asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice but not thinking he was quite able to. “You can stay with me all the time, or I can stay with you, if that’ll help,” he offered, almost desperate to think of something that would help.

He absently shifted his thumb to brush against the bandages still around Caspian’s wrist, still very aware of how close he’d been to losing him. Twice. Once at the threat of the General, and then because of Caspian’s efforts to save him.

“You don’t have to decide on anything right now, but think about it this weekend, okay? About what we need to do. Whether it’s seeing someone to talk to, or me staying with you, or… if I need to text you every thirty minutes, I can do that if that’ll help…” Michael suggested with a small shake of his head, wondering how stubborn Caspian was going to be about all this.




Caspian grimaced a little. “I was hoping that wasn’t that obvious,” he mumbled, in reference to the weight loss. It had only been a few pounds, but it wasn’t like he’d intended for that to happen. His thumb ran absently along Michael’s hand, an idle gesture as Caspian eased out a long breath. “I have been trying to eat better, if that’s any help at all, I just...haven’t been sleeping well, and it kinda sucks a lot.”

His dreams were consistently peppered by nightmares, Caspian waking up sweaty and clammy, only to have trouble falling asleep again. He knew Michael’s concern was genuine; Caspian pulled their joined hands up and he pressed his lips to Michael’s knuckles, lingering there for a moment.

“That is super tempting,” he murmured, because the prospect of being with Michael all the time was a heady rush of pleasure and happiness all at once. “I can’t yet, though. I need to figure s**t out with Cassie, but I’ll never say no to staying with you as much as I can.”

It was part of the reason he was so incredibly excited about this particular weekend, even if Caspian was also a little nervous. He knew what he had asked, and what Michael was willing to do and vice versa. Intimacy wasn’t exactly a problem between them, far from it, but going farther than what they’d already done was something that Caspian wasn’t used to, and it was taking him some time to figure it all out inside of his head.

Caspian sighed, turned his head, and buried it against Michael’s upper arm.

“I promise I’ll think about it,” he said, voice muffled by the fabric of Michael’s sleeve. “I just need to...I dunno, figure s**t out so that I can actually stop having nightmares. Maybe I should take some of that nighttime sleep aid or something, I’ll have to look it all up and whatever.”

Thankfully Caspian didn’t seem to linger too much as they made their way inside, Michael turning on a few light switches as they went. The kitchen went with the rest of the house, and had large windows overlooking the mountains and valley that surrounded them. Too much upkeep, in Michael’s opinion, but he didn’t bother mentioning that out loud when Caspian was taking everything in and apparently enjoying the experience.

“Uh,” he frowned thoughtfully as he paused by the large refrigerator with the open cooler. “I’m not sure about square footage, but there’s six bedrooms and seven bathrooms… I think…” he said with a small, self conscious shrug. “Most of the bedrooms are upstairs. A couple on this floor. Downstairs is the game room and pool and lower deck.”

He knew he was spoiled. He knew he was lucky and had no right to complain about anything in his life, and yet he still felt lost sometimes. Less now with Caspian, but still lost and alone.

“It’s ******** ridiculous, isn’t it?”

He could no longer hold the question in, despite his best, probably halfhearted efforts to not badmouth his own lifestyle. Or at least his family’s lifestyle, and the lifestyle he was used to and had no desire to deviate far from.

“My family calls it a cabin, but it’s really just a mountain mansion. There’s no point in having a house this size for just one family,” he grumbled mostly under his breath as he unloaded the produce he’d brought with him. Chicken and eggs and bacon for breakfast, then there was the milk and cheese and various vegetables and fruits. He doubted they would eat it all, but he happened to like having options. Besides, they had the whole weekend and there was no telling how hungry they would get.

Michael scowled at himself as he finished unloading what was left from the cooler into the refrigerator, and then rolled the cooler to one of the back doors to open it and pulled it outside.

“Might as well come see the view,” he suggested, glancing over his shoulder at the Blue Ridge mountains behind him as he rolled the cooler over to the railing, tipped it onto its side, and dumped what was left of the ice and water at the bottom.

There was more than one tier to the deck; there was a large sitting area on the first tier, but a few steps below lead to where there was a large metal fire pit for cold nights. A little further down along the back of the house was the door to the aforementioned pool, surrounded by windows, of course.

Maybe going to his family’s cabin had been a bad idea, after all. All Michael could think of was how stupid everything was and he was convinced that Caspian would realize just how spoiled he was, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, despite moving from place to place when he was a kid, and decide that they really were too different for things to work out between them. Which made Michael even more frustrated because this wasn’t supposed to be about him. It was supposed to be about Caspian and him. Because he loved him and wanted to spend time with him.




Six bedrooms was a lot of bedrooms, Caspian thought, the kitchen just as expansive and elaborate as the rest of the place. But Michael’s family was relatively large as it was, Caspian mentally counting - Michael, Peter, Chris and his wife, their parents - that was at least four out of the six right there. Two possible guest rooms, unless there was more family he didn’t know about. The living room was grand and spacious, clearly with enough room for a lot of people if there were family gatherings with extended relatives.

Caspian was busy calculating and almost didn’t hear Michael’s bitter tone, though it dragged him from his thoughts. He glanced over at him, at the scowl on his face as he stuffed things into the refrigerator, the annoyance at his family’s apparent prestige written all over his expression.

“It’s a lot of s**t,” Caspian agreed, tailing after him out onto the deck. Outside, it was still a little warm but much cooler from all the shade the trees provided, only snatches of blue sky and sunlight filtering in through the thick cluster of leaves. The pool was a nice touch - Caspian did like pools and swimming - and there was a firepit and everything, Caspian letting out a low whistle.

“This is so cool,” he said, turning back to Michael; but the irritation was still etched in Michael’s eyes, and Caspian’s expression softened. Hitching his bag up a little more securely on his shoulder, he padded over and slid his hands to rest on Michael’s waist, Caspian peering up at him.

“It doesn’t bother me, y’know,” he said truthfully, squeezing his sides affectionately. “All of this stuff. It doesn’t bother me. So your family’s loaded, it’s no big deal, I knew that already. Besides,” he added, smiling a little. “It just means there’s all this extra space for us to hang out this weekend, right?”

And do a lot more, but Caspian was trying not to think of that just yet, even if it was basically at the forefront of his mind.




He’d just set the cooler back upright when Caspian approached him to put his hands on his waist, and Michael couldn’t help but let out a small breath of pent up irritation, his expression shifting to something softer with just that small touch Caspian offered.

Still, he eyed Caspian warily when he said that he didn’t mind all the stuff, that it didn’t bother him. He couldn’t help but snort in mock amusement when Caspian said it was no big deal that his family was loaded, mumbling, “You have no idea,” under his breath. Michael did happen to like the idea of them having the whole place to themselves, though. No one to bother them, they could do whatever they wanted, stay up as late as they pleased.

Michael lifted his hand to brush his fingers through Caspian’s hair, wishing not for the first time that he was a little shorter so it wouldn’t be so awkward to lean down and kiss his boyfriend. He at least was glad that Caspian didn’t seem to mind, despite still being a bit anxious about what he thought of everything.

It was probably one of the things that was appealing about Caspian and his personality; not really seeming to mind things that were out of the norm, and he was probably used to people making such a big deal about him that he didn’t really see the need to make a big deal about things in return.

Despite how awkward their height difference made it, Michael leaned down anyway to press a kiss against Caspian’s mouth, drawing back to lean his forehead against Caspian’s for another few moments, before drawing back again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, feeling guilty. “For complaining so much. It’s not that I don’t love my family, it’s just… overwhelming sometimes.” To the point where he spent money just because he had it, like on his car, because why the hell not. If anything, it was just to throw it in his grandmother’s face that he would be taking the money that had been held over his head for thirty years.

“But you’re right. Did you want to drop your bag off in the room?” he wondered, leaving the cooler where it was outside and waiting for Caspian to draw back before he headed towards the door to lead the way.




His hands smoothed gently along Michael’s sides, Caspian waiting patiently for him to get his thoughts out. He knew Michael’s stresses had a lot to do with things he wasn’t aware of yet; of family troubles or past history that he wasn’t ready to talk about. But at least they had this weekend - away from Peter, as much as Caspian actually liked him - away from Cassie, away from the rest of the world.

No interruptions. Just the two of them.

It was almost a little overwhelming. Caspian felt slightly dizzy with all of the possibilities and encouragements and probabilities and everything that was associated with Michael Gallo.

The gentle hand smoothing through his hair and the even gentler kiss made his heart flutter, Caspian leaning up into it to shorten the distance between, going up on his tiptoes so it was less awkward to make it work. It would be easier, he thought, for Michael to simply pick him up, but he kept this thought to himself, smiling up at him.

“Hey, I complain about a lot of s**t,” Caspian teased, finally - somewhat reluctantly - stepping away from Michael. He reached down, however, with his free hand, and threaded their fingers together. “I don’t mind listening, Michael, you know that. I love hearing about anything to do with your life, even if it’s a shitty thing or a hard thing or a fantastic thing.”

He pushed the screen door back open and stepped inside, pulling Michael along with him.

“So where’s our room?” Caspian asked, because of course they would be sharing a room, his face flushing a little.




Michael let his hand be taken, twining his fingers together with Caspian’s and giving his hand a small squeeze of reassurance, something that he needed, himself. And Caspian always gave him a lot of reassurance, which was nice, and he never seemed to get tired of it, just as Michael was never tired of wanting to reassure Caspian, despite some of his own occasional frustrations.

He lifted their hands to his mouth to kiss the back of Caspian’s as he followed him back inside the house. He picked up his bag on the way to the wooden, not at all rickety stairs, an elegant banister lining it. The way upstairs was just between the two sitting areas on the main floor, near the door to one of the master bedrooms. At the top of the stairs was another sitting area with full bookcases, which had a view over the railing of the room below and also a great view of the mountains. There were a couple doors right beside the stairs, but Michael ignored those two doors and headed across the landing and area overlooking the downstairs to the hallway beyond. There were a couple more doors that opened up to large, spacious bedrooms. The largest room wasn’t decked out with just one bed, but four sets of bunk beds lined the walls, two on each side, to maximize the space.

Just before the end of the hall, Michael pushed a door open to a room that looked just as ‘rustic-chic’ as the rest of the house, but was possibly the smallest of the bedrooms. Because of where it was in the house, the wooden paneled ceiling sloped up, making it appear even smaller, but Michael always liked it. And it had its own bathroom attached so he didn’t have to share. The walls were dark green where it wasn’t covered by wooden panels, and the bed was a similar grey green.

The best part about the room was the large window that looked out over the mountains, and it was even better of a view in the winter when the leaves had fallen, but even now it was nice. Michael personally liked it because it was far enough away from the rest of the trees so he could still see the stars at night. And when he didn’t want the sun coming in, there was a convenient remote that rolled down the shades.

There was only a small bookshelf in that room, a long dresser with a mirror over top, and a small desk. The bathroom was also smaller than the rest of the house might suggest, but he happened to like the seclusion it offered.

“Well, this is my room. It’s the smallest, but I think it’s the best,” he said with a shrug and lowered his bag down beside the dresser, although there was no real need to unpack. “I didn’t come often when I was younger, but I always liked it when I did.”




The little kiss to the back of his hand made Caspian’s heart flutter, his cheeks warming. He glanced curiously into each of the bedrooms they passed, some grander and larger than others, some with more beds and decorations, some with nicer curtains or fancy woodwork. But Michael seemed to be passing all of these, and it wasn’t until they had reached the end of the corridor that he stopped and pushed a door open.

This bedroom was certainly not as grand as the rest, but Caspian didn’t care. He was too busy staring open mouthed at the view from the large window, his fingers sliding free of Michael’s so that he could walk towards it, eyes round with amazement.

“Woah….”

It was a lovely, breathtaking view. Caspian had always loved the outdoors, especially camping, and this was everything that he adored all at once. He let his hand brush along the glass momentarily, and then turned to face Michael, a flush to Caspian’s cheeks, his eyes alight with pleasure.

“This is amazing,” he said happily. “The view is ******** awesome.”

He didn’t care that it was smaller; the room felt like Michael, felt like his warmth and his closeness. Caspian turned in a slow circle to take it all in, finally lowering his own bag to the ground beside Michael’s and stepping towards him to take ahold of both of his hands. He gave them a squeeze, Caspian bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I love it,” he said, “This is so great.”

The tiny kiss was somewhat reassuring, and he could see the small smile on Caspian’s face, but Michael wasn’t convinced. Maybe it just really wasn’t something that bothered Caspian, and he really hoped that was the case, but he couldn’t quite settle himself.

“Yeah… yeah it is a lot,” he agreed, his voice still a bit strained as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He appreciated that Caspian wasn’t making a huge deal about it, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it really had time to sink in that this was… really… a literal ********, and not just a lot.

“She’ll never admit it, but everyone is pretty sure that my dad is my grandmother’s favorite kid. She spoils him. And Chris was named after her father, so of course she would probably let him get away with murder. And I’m told that I’m a lot like her, as scary as that sounds, so she favors me, too…” he continued to try and explain, his eyes still locked onto Caspian’s.

“How… how much do you think I mean when I say two hundred fifty…?” he wondered, shrugging a little. “Not that… I mean… I just want to make sure… that I’m not being unclear… because I feel like I’m being pretty ******** unclear without just saying it, and I don’t really like saying it.”




Caspian arched a brow.

“Well, to be perfectly fair, you’re my favorite too,” he said lightly. “So it’s not too much of a stretch to see that you’d be your grandmother’s favorite, isn’t that what I’ve been telling you all this time? That you’re a good guy and that you’re worth my time? That you’re worth anyone’s time?”

Even if he was selfishly wanting Michael’s time for himself, Caspian knew anyone would be fortunate to even know a fraction of Michael. He squeezed his hands again, considering the question and all the aspects that came with it: Michael’s hesitance, his concern, the slight strain in his voice, his attempts at being casual - and yet it wasn’t casual, Caspian could tell. It was something that weighed heavily on him, enough that he was self-conscious about it.

Caspian let out a small hum of thought.

“Well, not hundreds, obviously,” he said. “It could possibly be thousands, because two hundred and fifty thousand is a ******** of money in and of itself. But if you invested most of that and only kept fifty thousand, then it would be not as much because you also work. And the fact that you’re asking me at all means that it’s probably not thousands and probably higher.”

It really was more than Caspian had ever even dreamed of in his life, but he had meant what he’d said earlier. Bending his head, Caspian pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Michael’s lips before drawing back. He pulled his hands free from Michael’s and slid his arms around his neck again, forehead to forehead.

“My previous statement still stands,” he said quietly. “I don’t care how much or how little you have, it doesn’t change who you are. And it doesn’t make me uncomfortable or anything, either. You are who you are, right? And I love you for that. All of you, not just parts of you.”




“Well, Chris is the favorite. Nana and I argue all the time, but I guess she still kinda likes me,” he mumbled, talking just to talk at this point because Caspian was saying sweet things that made his cheeks heat and flush red, and he finally had to pull his eyes away to stare at Caspian’s lips instead. Which probably wasn’t any better of an alternative.

“I’m not that good of a guy,” he stubbornly said under his breath, his hands tightening around Caspian’s. “But I do want to be smart with what I do with the money I have. There’s no way I would ever use it all, but what if something comes up years from now? Or… maybe there will be opportunities to use it to help people, more than it would help by just giving it away now…?”

To him it seemed silly that he would even be worried about what to do with the money he always knew he would one day have. Sometimes he wondered if that was what his family wanted of him; to be prepared to not have the money, which was why he worked and focused on his studies instead of partying his whole life. He was at least thankful that he didn’t waste his life doing just that.

He was hesitating, not sure if he wanted to make sure Caspian was fully aware of the figures, but as he started to open his mouth, Caspian kissed him again. It was soft and sweet and made Michael’s heart flutter stupidly in his chest. Caspian’s arms found their way around his neck, and their foreheads were pressed together, and all Michael could think to do was pout miserably up at this wonderful, beautiful young man that he still didn’t have any idea how he was so lucky to have met him.

“You’re impossible,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection, his shoulders relaxing slightly with the constant reassurance about something he tried very hard not to let bother him. It wasn’t as though he went to bars, or anywhere, waving around his wallet and telling everyone how much he had in his trust fund. Caspian was correct in his observations that Michael was a very private person, and he wanted to keep it that way.

And Michael really hoped what Caspian said was true; that he loved all of him, and not just parts… because there were still parts of him that he wasn’t quite ready to reveal, parts that he was ashamed of and tried to forget. Would Caspian still love all of him then…?

He shifted back some onto the bed, enough so he could slide his hands against Caspian’s sides and push him down, head onto the pillows, while Michael made himself comfortable over top of him.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told,” he admitted, bending down close enough so that he was able to brush his nose against Caspian’s, and then lean close enough to kiss his cheek once, twice, and then shifted to kiss the corner of his right eye. “Like you said, it’s probably not difficult to guess, but…” he mumbled, still somewhat unsettled by the topic that he’d brought up on his own, but Caspian was so good to him that he was able to push his insecurity away in favor of continuing to shower his boyfriend with kisses.

“I was planning on making dinner soon, but how about I just eat you instead?” he joked, ducking his head enough to playfully n** at parts of Caspian’s ear. It was all a distraction, of course. A very good distraction, but it would take a little longer for him to calm completely.




“Wrong,” said Caspian placidly. “You’re the best kind of guy. The fact that you don’t go around shoving how much you have in other people’s faces is evidence enough of that. You get nervous about it, and you keep it to yourself. That makes you the best kind of guy, in my opinion.”

He gave a casual sort of shrug. “I mean, maybe I’m biased, but…”

A lot biased, for that matter. Caspian smiled at Michael, at the startled, affectionate expression on his face, at the warmth in his voice. He knew that intensely private side of Michael was something he struggled with; but at the same time, the little bits and pieces he was allowed to see and allowed to be a part of was precious to Caspian. And arrogant and self-entitled were two words that Caspian could not associate with Michael, no matter how much money he had.

He found himself pushed back, gently but firmly, Caspian’s heartbeat skittering in his chest as Michael settled over him. Caspian bent his legs on either side of Michael’s hips, a breathless laugh escaping him at all the little kisses - which, he had to admit, were extremely distracting in more ways than one.

“I’m glad you told me,” Caspian said softly, arms tightening around Michael’s neck as he kissed his eye. “I like when you tell me things. I like knowing more about you.”

He liked that there was still more of Michael he could learn to see; that even though revealing those sides of him that he was uncertain or ashamed or frustrated about was extremely difficult, Michael was making the effort in the first place, because he knew it was important to Caspian.

Michael was nipping at his ear, and the distraction was even more distracting now, Caspian flushing hard at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t think...I would object to that,” he mumbled, turning his head slightly.




Michael hummed softly in approval, bracing himself above Caspian with his forearm, while his other hand lifted to brush Caspian’s hair out of his way so he could attach his mouth to his neck.

“You indulge me too much,” he mumbled against the soft skin of Caspian’s neck, his own heart still beating rapidly from telling Caspian more about himself. “You’re supposed to push me away and tell me ‘no, I’m hungry and you should make dinner’ or something like that.”

Not that he was really complaining about this time he had with Caspian, but he knew they should probably try to focus on things other than each other, like food.

He hadn’t said anything in response to Caspian’s comment about him being the best kind of guy, and he was trying very hard not to continue arguing with him about it, especially since Caspian was so stubborn, but it still made him wonder what he would say if he ever found out everything else that not even his family knew about him, except maybe his father.

“Do you really like when I tell you things about myself?” he asked suddenly, pulling back to stare incredulously down at Caspian. He knew he’d joked about Caspian indulging him, but Caspian always seemed so sincere when he was talking to him, so it was difficult to tell what he was being serious about or if he was just saying it to help Michael calm down.

“I mean, I like when you tell me things about yourself, but…” he paused, trying to figure out what he wanted to say because he was sure that Caspian would just counter everything.




It was very, very hard to think with Michael’s mouth on his neck, Caspian’s eyes fluttering, his heartbeat too fast in his chest. His hands slid down to rest on Michael’s shoulders, every place where Michael’s lips were tingling with heat.

“Don’t wanna,” he mumbled, sounding slightly dazed. “I like indulging you.”

And himself, for that matter, because indulging Michael tended to mean indulging himself as well, Caspian’s fingers sliding along the back of Michael’s neck, delving up into the hair at the nape and then back down again, as though marveling in the feel of him.

A startled breath escaped him as Michael pulled back, Caspian staring up at him, his hands slipping to rest on Michael’s upper arms. His cheeks were flushed, and he swallowed hard, trying to drag his mind back into the present and coherently answer Michael’s question.

“Yes,” he said, after a moment, his voice tinged a little rough around the edges. “I like knowing about you. I like hearing about you. I want to know more about your life, and more about what makes you who you are, because...because I love you, and because even though you’ve got...whatever in your past or whatever, I like knowing you.”

Caspian gave a slightly self-conscious little shrug.

“I want to know all of you, not just half of you, I and I wanna spend as long as I can doing that.”

Michael sat up easily, shifting so that he could sit back and Caspian could settle into his lap, kneeling above him. He lifted his head to be able to look up at Caspian, the warmth and love clear in his eyes, so much so that Michael thought he would be swept away. But Caspian was there, anchoring him in place, protecting him with all of his patience and kindness and understanding.

In a way it was almost strange for him to think of Caspian as the one who was protecting him, but it felt so pure and true that Michael couldn’t deny this as fact. It left him breathless and all Michael could do was stare in awe.

Caspian’s hands were on his face, his eyes deep with emotions that Michael thought he could recognize because it was how he felt for Caspian. There was fiery passion, but also warmth, gentle and soothing. There was also compassion so sincere that Michael felt as though he could be forgiven of any wrongdoing with just a look. Worry and concern was natural, because no one really knew what could happen next.

And there was also fierce determination that made Caspian’s request seem as though it meant more than just words being said in the moment. Even more than the love he already knew they both felt. Michael could feel it in the touch of Caspian’s hands, in his voice, in the depths of his blue eyes, the warmth of his body pressed against his own.

Maybe Caspian didn’t realize it yet, but for Michael it was enough. He almost couldn’t speak, his hands sliding up Caspian’s thighs and to his slender hips before wrapping around his back, holding him close to him.

He didn’t need to think of what to say in response, Michael’s mouth seeming to move on its own, barely above a whisper, lest they both be overwhelmed by the emotions that bubbled up, “I give you my heart and my life, today and always, Cas.”




Outside, the sky was a dusky orange melting into pinks and purples that streaked across the blue. Late afternoon was beginning to turn to evening twilight, the thick clusters of trees making everything darker simply from the depth and size of them. The enormous window that took up a good portion of one wall was glittery with spots of sunlight, the room warm and secluded.

The feel of Michael’s arms around him was a sweet thing, tight and unyielding; Caspian wrapped his own arms around Michael’s neck and buried his face in his hair, inhaling the scent of him, the sound of his voice, the promise that burned through his veins and settled deep into his heart.

Always, thought Caspian dizzily. I want you always

Always mine and always yours.

His grip tightened a little, but Caspian ducked his head, lips pressing against Michael’s temple. He skimmed lower, until he reached his ear, and pressed a soft kiss to the shell of it.

“...prove it,” he whispered softly.




Always was a very long time to promise to be with someone, and yet this was what Michael wanted. He didn’t care that he’d only known Caspian for so long, he didn’t care about their age difference or anything else that the world might see as reasons they shouldn’t be together.

Caspian was everything to him, and even though he knew that already, he felt as though he was learning that he needed him more and more each day until he felt his heart would explode. But it never did. It always seemed to grow to make more room for the love he felt for Caspian.

Michael felt heat sweep across his face and through his body as Caspian whispered into his ear, his skin still tingling pleasantly from where Caspian’s lips had been.

...prove it.

It was a simple enough request, and words were on the tip of Michael’s tongue that he had to force himself to hold back, not wanting Caspian to think he was completely insane. Not yet at least. Not yet, but someday, because even though he’d never really thought about it for himself before, he knew that Caspian was all he wanted.

“We only just got here,” he half joked, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart, his hands instinctively reaching to find the hem of Caspian’s shirt to slide his hands under. “I’ll have the whole weekend to prove it,” he said, tilting his head to make it easier for Caspian to kiss his ear if he wanted.

“And your whole life,” he whispered back after a small pause, fingers pressed firmly against Caspian’s smooth back.




He smiled, lips curving up against Michael’s ear as Michael’s hands slid up under his shirt; a warm, tingling touch that Caspian adored, his heart pounding. He loved the feel of those hands; the strength in them, the tenderness, the laughter that he could hear in Michael’s voice that always filled Caspian with a sort of joy that couldn’t be replicated anywhere else.

The whole weekend. They had the whole weekend together, just the two of them. No Cassie, no Peter, no interruptions; just the two of them, alone in this place. It sent a heady, thrilling rush through Caspian, his mouth grazing Michael’s ear.

“Does that mean you don’t want to?” he murmured, which he knew wasn’t true, a lightly teasing note to his voice as Caspian gently nipped at the shell of Michael’s ear.

But he stopped, his heart in his throat as he pulled back to look at Michael, his eyes wide and his face flushed. For a moment, he seemed unable to speak at all, and then he slowly closed his mouth, pressing his lips together as he tried to get his head together.

“D...do you mean that…?” he asked quietly. “Because I - want you, Michael, I want you for...for the rest of my life, but I wasn’t sure if - if that’s too soon or - or if you - didn’t want - “




He loved Caspian’s smiles, especially the ones that reached his eyes, where there was no more sadness and loneliness left in his thoughts or heart. Michael wanted that; to keep Caspian from ever feeling that way again, because he knew how painful it was, how paralyzing it was to be cast aside and mocked and taught that nothing he did ever mattered.

Michael wanted Caspian to never feel that way again.

The startled movement from Caspian surprised him, Caspian’s eyes wide and face beautifully red with emotion. Michael didn’t pull away from him, but instead smoothed his hands up and down Caspian’s back to try and calm him.

“I want you for the rest of my life, Cas,” he said softly, but more confidently now than he might have ever been before, his smile small but warm. He shook his head lightly, his smile widening just a bit at how flustered Caspian was. Not because he thought it was funny, but because of how endearing it was.

“I mean it with all my heart. I want to stay with you, always.”




He thought, maybe, that he was dreaming. That it was only possible for Michael to want him forever if he was asleep, because it almost didn’t seem real that someone like this man would be saying the things he was.

But the hands that smoothed up his back were firm and warm. The voice that spoke to him was sweet and gentle, lacking in any hesitation, and Michael was looking up at him with eyes that spoke volumes through the disbelieving haze in Caspian’s mind.

He let out a soft, half strangled breath that caught in his throat, Caspian’s eyes fluttering. They were stinging at the corners, stupidly, because he couldn’t help himself, and how could he possibly have ever gotten this lucky? How on earth had he managed to get this?

His hands came up on either side of Michael’s face, and Caspian kissed him, almost desperately, pressing forward against him.

“I love you,” he mumbled, the words breathed out against Michael’s mouth, kiss after kiss. “I love you, I love you.”




This, Michael thought as Caspian’s eyes grew wet from emotion, and his hands lifted to his face and kissed him, breathing those three words over and over… this was something that he so desperately wanted to protect. There was no one they needed to prove themselves to, no one there to judge them for how they felt, for how close they had grown to each other in such a short amount of time.

But even though others might see it as a short amount of time, especially for two who were a decade in age apart, Michael knew there was no one else. And if Caspian wanted him as well, then he would hold onto this and protect him for as long as he possibly could.

He slowly pulled one of his hands from Caspian’s back so he could lift it and place his hand over Caspian’s, his fingers easily fitting between Caspian’s as he pressed his palm to his cheek.

This was what he wanted. And even though he didn’t feel as though he deserved the love Caspian was giving him, Michael would do whatever it took to be with him.

“I love you,” he mumbled back against Caspian’s mouth, “Forever and ever… for the rest of our lives, Cas…”

He realized that it might sound crazy to others, but it didn’t to him, because he meant it and knew Caspian meant it as well. This wasn’t just something that happened on a whim, but something they’d slowly been working towards, even if it seemed fast.

“I’ll never leave you.”




He curled his fingers with Michael’s, Caspian unable to pull away, breathless with incredulity and amazement and adoration and love all at the same time, Michael’s whispered words against his mouth sending warmth and security all throughout Caspian.

He didn’t care that anyone else might think otherwise. He didn’t care that maybe their relationship might not be viewed less welcomingly than people who had been together longer, or who maybe had less of an age gap between them. It wasn’t about how much time, because quantity was not the same as quality. What he had with Michael could not be measured by time alone.

“Me too,” Caspian mumbled, and he couldn’t stop kissing him, each word punctuated by another kiss, and then another. “Me too, Michael. Always. For my life.”

He let go of Michael’s hand, if only so that he could wrap both arms around Michael’s neck, holding him tightly, kissing him with a passion that had an edge of desperation to it, as though he was desperate for Michael to understand and accept this.

“For always.”




Even though he felt it too, it was a little overwhelming, knowing how desperately he needed Caspian and Caspian needed him. He could feel it pulse through him, seeping warmly into his heart, mind, body, and soul.

For the rest of his life, he wanted to make sure Caspian was safe and cared for and loved. Not just by anyone, but Michael wanted to be the one to do it, to be by Caspian’s side until the very end. And with their line of work, Michael was very aware that they may not live very long. It was a thought that both terrified him and strengthened his resolve and made him more determined to be with Caspian for however long he could.

There was no hesitation when Michael kissed Caspian back, his hands finding their way under his shirt once more, holding Caspian tightly to him as he kissed him back. There was just as much passion and desperation from Michael, a silent promise that he meant everything he said, and that he trusted Caspian meant what he’d said as well.

Always was a long time, but it was what Michael desperately wanted with Caspian.

“For always…”