be careful, it's my heart

[warriorborn]

WHO: Benedict Sorellin-Lancaster
WHERE: House #12, the Sorellin-Kelly residence
WHEN: June 7
OPEN TO: the waifu 💑
WARNINGS: nothing triggering unless you find gratuitous sweetness worthy of a tw

---

It's been two weeks since his disastrous attempt at bonding with Bucky Barnes, and through some help from the healing springs, even the worst of the bruising has faded, leaving Benedict as good as new. (Even if his nose is a little tender, still, and sometimes he coughs more than he used to. That will pass in time, he's sure.) The problem with no longer convalescing is that he grows bored much more easily than he used to. Add that to the weather looking more and more grim, and eventually the stormclouds breaking overhead with spectacular results, and Benedict spends the majority of the day pacing restlessly, making a tight circuit through one room to the next, down to the cellar and upstairs into the bedrooms, even going so far as to climb up into the crawl-space that one can only charitably call an attic.

He's not really expecting to find much there, setting himself the task more for something to do than out of any other expectation, but once he gets his head and shoulders into the narrow gap afforded them, a small package catches his eye tucked away in one dim and dusty corner. Staring at it and trying to calculate how best to fetch it, he idly wonders if he'd be able to see it at all were he not warriorborn, a concern that gets brushed aside for more practical matters as he wriggles around and manages to get an arm up through the gap, his fingers straining as he reaches, only just barely managing to catch a corner with his fingernails. Eventually he is able to winkle it closer, close enough to grasp it in his hand as he drops back down to the floor beneath. 

Upon closer inspection, it is a box. A plain white box, the size and shape of the box that he had discovered down in the Inn all those months ago, the box that had held his robes from the monastery (or at least, a reasonable reproduction of his robes; it wasn't as if he has put his name in the neck) that he had since all but forced Kate to repurpose into a blouse for herself. He has no need of Temple robes in this habble, and a part of him had chafed at the idea of some nameless observer dictating what he did or didn't do. Just like the previous box, his name is affixed to a label on the lid. He's certain the uptick in his heartbeat at this discovery is not his imagination, nor is the immediate surge of irritation that follows in its wake. 

He will not let these mysterious overseers manipulate him quite so easily, thank you. 

Scoffing at himself, he rips into the box, flummoxed slightly when the only contents is a smaller box, crafted of red velvet, small enough to fit in his palm. It's clearly a ring box. He's not so sheltered as to never have seen what jewelry comes in, on the contrary, but it seems a strange gift to give. The robes had unsettled him deeply. This...

He drops the external box, weighing the little red one on his palm curiously for a moment before using his thumb to unclasp the little gold latch and push the top half away from the bottom, revealing a delicate and brilliantly-sparkling ring nestled in the velvet inside. 

Stunned, he stares at it in silence for a minute before letting out a loud whoop and all but bounding out of the room, taking the stairs down to the kitchen nearly three at a time, yelling for Kate at the top of his lungs loudly enough to compete with the thunder crackling overhead the entire while.

Comments

[lastofthekellys]

"Um. Yes. I know." He had explained it, before, early on when the electricity had arrived. She thinks. It's hard to remember things like sequences and the passage of time, when he's staring up at her like that. "Sorry, it is just..."

She grins at him, delight written large over her face.

"It'd be useful. Here, it is beautiful. And I'll wear it proudly."

A ring, a public statement of their affection and their commitment. A-

There's a crack of thunder, right above them, and she jumps. It's enough to make her giggle. "And get up, you ridiculous man. Or else I'll join you on the floor, and then what a picture we'd make."

[warriorborn]

"It wouldn't be so bad," he protests, clambering to his feet, his hands automatically moving to slide around her like iron filings drifting towards a magnet. "This floor is very clean."

That being said, the bed upstairs is much softer, and although he doesn't point that out to her, surely the gleam in his eye as he bends and scoops her up into his arms makes his intentions fairly clear. Thunder rumbles both near and far as he stands in the kitchens with his wife (fiancée?) in his arms, an accompaniment to the way he ducks his head to kiss her sweetly for a long, lingering moment before abruptly turning and heading for the stairs.

"I can think of better places, though."

[lastofthekellys]

"Oh, can you," she says, all wide-eyed and breathy delight. She's tempted to kiss him so that his knees buckle, that they spill across the floor in a ridiculous, giggling heap. But no, bed sounds nicer. More comfortable. More things to grab, brace herself against.

Except, Benedict's right there. Carrying her. All warm and strong and lovely.

Kate kisses him, hard and passionate. It's not far to their bedroom from here, just a few more feet to the door, but instead of being patient, she's regarding it as a challenge.

How far will his own patience and balance extend?

[warriorborn]

Not that far, it seems, as he has to stumble to a stop mere feet from the door, drifting towards the wall so he can half-lean against it, half-brace one hand flat on the wall.

"I'm going to drop you!" he protests between her kisses, muffling a laugh against her lips and not sounding all that upset about the idea of going down to the floor with her so close to their goal. "Kate."

[lastofthekellys]

"You won't drop me." It is a declaration of faith and a challenge all at once. A dare. If he succeeds in getting them to the bed, the reward is kisses. If he fails, the punishment is kisses. It all works out marvelously for her, as far as Kate is concerned.

"No one in the house but us," she adds, dropping her mouth to nip and kiss his jaw, then his neck. "We can do whatever we want." Which they have done so previously, occasionally with extravagance, but it still causes her a thrill.

[warriorborn]

"I might if you keep doing that."

It's been nearly two years since they met, and almost as long since he managed, through his awkward attempts at courting, to convince her to hitch her wagon to his, and in that time, Kate has grown to be very skilled at making a red flush climb high up his throat to stain his ears and his cheeks, to make his breath come short in his lungs and his head go a bit dizzy and light.

The nipping thing is incredibly effective.

"I only ever want you," he murmurs, his throat clicking as he swallows and musters up all his energy to push off from the wall and walk with determination into their bedroom.