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Quinn agreed with him wholeheartedly. The little wins are what make the day-to-day feel good and productive. "Yeah, that feeling of growing and getting better at what you're doing is really rewarding. It's part of the reason I've taken up so many different hobbies—like my drawing. It's just nice to see that I've made progress and met my goals." "Oh, I'd love to come over sometime! I can make whip something up to bring—what kind of desserts do you like?" Quinn was always eager to make something for a friend, and she hadn't been able to properly bake in a while so she was itching for it. "I can make just about anything, and if I don't then I'm sure I could figure it out!" Daf was right, and Quinn knew that, too. As much as she appreciated the experiences and knowledge she'd gained from her travels, she couldn't help but feel a little silly at the same time. She nodded. "Of course, and thank you again." "Well, I'm glad I've not just been boring you this whole time," she giggled. "And I'll certainly take you up on that, you've got some interesting conversation yourself. But there's no way I can keep you, you must be exhausted from work and I refuse to keep you from your boyfriend and your bed any longer. I'll let you know about the referral and the tea and everything, but you need to go to sleep—can't heal if you can't keep your eyes open!" Quinn teased with a wag of her finger. |
Long Distance Apparition The first thing Nadia noticed as she appeared once more was that she was now outside in comparison to the apparition room that she had just left. Good news number one. The second was that no part of her, especially her feet, was wet which was a bonus she was most grateful for. It meant she both hadn’t landed in either the pond or the fountain that were in the enlarged courtyard and that she wasn’t noticing the feel of any blood on her person from any splincing. Her gaze flickered around as she grounded herself, stumbling ever so slightly before quickly catching her balance. That didn’t count too much against her…right? Just gathering her land legs now that she was back on solid ground. Or rather on the stone of the path as it stopped a short distance from the edge of the pond. Was she close enough? Nadia looked around for the examiner taking further note of no injuries and no incident with anyone already there. The girl taking a deep breath as she awaited a response. |
Text Cut: Ms. Atreyu-Rehman Nadia was whole—no severed fingers or missing limbs, no blood. But Beitris' was not one to overlook small details. Her expression remained impassive, but her eyes noted every movement—Nadia's slight stumble, the subtle shift in her posture as she corrected herself. No collision with the pond, no unsuspecting passerby stumbling away in shock. The young witch had landed cleanly on the path. She made another neat notation on her parchment before stepping forward. "Next, we will proceed with another long-range Apparition. This time, your destination will be Purge and Dowse—the entrance to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries." The destination wasn't especially far—certainly closer than some of the locations she'd assigned to previous licence hopefuls. Yet it presented its own unique challenges, each carefully chosen to truly test the girl's aptitude for safe, precise Apparition in a Muggle location. "I will arrive shortly after you to verify your landing. As before, wait fifteen seconds, visualize with complete focus, then Disapparate. And remember: Destination. Determination. Deliberation." A single step back was taken, and with the familiar quiet crack of Disapparition, she was gone. OOC: Feel free to make a post here with your character departing via Apparition, otherwise please proceed to Purge and Dowse/the entrance to St. Mungo's. |
No real reaction but the scribbling of something more on the paperwork. Nadia supposed that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially since she was being told to move on to the next part of the exam, the examiner simply was no-nonsense. Purge and Dowse…another one of those locations that existed on the border of the magical and muggle world she certainly took note of. It made it all the more challenging. One had to be successful of not only apparition but careful concealment so no one who shouldn’t see what she had done did. At least it was another place she had some experience with. Maybe it would less intimidating if she pretended, she was simply going to see her brother, Raj. Yeah, that might work. Nadia listened carefully to the next batch of instructions, already trying her best to get an image of a safe spot to land at her intended destination. A place inside Purge and Dowse enough to be more magically connected than towards the muggle. Then once the examiner went away with a crack, she silently waited the requisite seconds, took a deep breathe as she secured her focus on her destination, gave herself a slow determined turn and disappeared with a crack of her own. |
For Whitney and Aurora... Sitting in the leaky courtyard grass, munching on a plate of fish and chips, and eyeing the fishes in the pond nearby was Ariadne. The darkhaired Rose triplet had left her siblings by the service counter because she was tried of waiting for Tiff and Johnny to decide on what dish they wanted. It had had already gone 20 mins or so and they were still debating fish or sandwich and so on, Fish and chips were best eaten warm, anyway. It was unbelievable that in just a few weeks she was starting OWL year at Hogwarts. She was a fifth year. It was also the year when you could become a prefect of your house. Ariadne knew it was a big responsibility, but it'd be a dream if she was chosen. Picking up a chip she eyed it thoughtfully before plucking it into her mouth murmuring to herself. "Can koi fish eat chips?" |
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As she made her way towards the pond, Aurora spotted Ariadne enjoying her lunch. "Hey!" she greeted the girl cheerfully before taking a seat beside her. She figured that her company would be welcome. "Oh, that's a good question." Now she was curious to see what would happen if they were given one. If they didn't like it, she would get them some fish food. She always fed the fish when she was here anyway. |
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At the question, she turned her attention back to Ariadne. ”Yep, pretty much. What about you? You think you’ll be ready for OWLs?” Aurora felt that she might be. Really the only subject she was unsure about was Ancient Runes. She wondered if maybe Iris would help her if she asked. She definitely was better at that class than Aurora. ”Oh, true!” Honestly she hadn’t really given much thought towards Prefect. ”I think you’d be an awesome Prefect if you were chosen.” Nod. |
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Suddenly going red in the face by the praise Ariadne swallowed down the blush "Thanks Aurora, we'll see what the teachers decide. Who do you think will be our new head of house after Professor Burbage?" |
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BEAM. She was just being honest. She knew that Ariadne would do a good job if she got Prefect. "Honestly I'm not sure. It's a shame that Burbage stepped down even though I can understand why." She was such a kind ghost. At least she would still be teaching Astronomy though. |
Sage did not fidget. She did not pace, did not check the time more than necessary, and certainly did not hover like some anxious first year waiting to be Sorted. She walked with her weight evenly distributed between both feet on the charmed stone, watching with mild, clinical interest as the ground beneath her lit up in a clean outline of color with each step she took. Blue. Then orange. Then something offensively close to chartreuse. Her nose wrinkled at the lack of a discernible pattern. After a few more measured steps, heel to toe, Sage stepped off the stone entirely and onto the grass, abandoning the nonsense to those who found this particular brand whimsy tolerable. Worse still were the flowers that smelled of Butterbeer. "Completely unnecessary," she muttered under her breath, though she did take a second inhale—purely to confirm the accuracy of the scent. How had she never noticed this before during all her other trips to the Leaky over the years? Straightening, she brushed nonexistent debris from her hands and finally conceded to the fact that she had arrived early. Intentionally. Not that she would be acknowledging that. Instead, Sage reached into her bag and withdrew a magazine, its cover boasting bold lettering and an alarming number of exclamation points. She flipped it open with practiced efficiency, thumbing past pages of fluff until she landed precisely where she intended: the quiz section. What Magical Beverage Matches Your Soul? Her lips pressed into a thin line. The quiz was, objectively, ridiculous. The questions were poorly structured, the answers broad to the point of uselessness, and the entire premise relied on generalizations that would never hold up under proper scrutiny. …and yet she simply never could get enough of them. One of favorite forms of guilty pleasure. Sage shifted her weight, settling near the fountain now, just at the edge where the colored stone met the grass, pen out, and began completing it. And if her results were 'Butterbeer' she was going to write a formal complaint to the magazine for inferring she was basic. |
Your Zoeness <3 It was June 2119 and with it, came Hartley’s and Dafydd’s third wedding anniversary. This year, Hart had opted to go all out for the hubby. His plan of action? Surprising Hartley with something new every weekend, and in some cases, during the week days after they both returned home from work. There were surprise gifts from his travels to whichever region that his job might take him: to tropical climates, to regions where the weather could be described as mostly hyetal… you name it and most likely Hart had gotten something from there. Today, however, he had opted for a simple, local treat for Daf. He had informed the other man to meet him for lunch at the Courtyard of the Leaky so here Hartley was… holding a bouquet of two dozen roses for his love. In addition, he had ensured to order all of Daf’s favourite foods, so all that was remaining now was… well… one Dafydd Johanson-Stonewall :loved: |
Dafydd Johanson-Stonewall was not, by nature, a man easily surprised. Or rather, he liked to believe he wasn't. Yet he found himself momentarily stilled, standing just beyond the archway that opened into the courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron, having arrived a touch earlier than he'd let on. Hartley. Roses in hand. Two dozen, no less. The sight of them caught the light in such a way that they seemed to undulate gently in the summer air, as if stirred by some unseen magic rather than a passing zephyr. Subtle. Intentional. Very Hart. Dafydd exhaled, something warm and quiet unfurling in his chest. He couldn't help put momentarily reflect on the last three years of Hartley's constellations of affection, his careful, deliberate ways of saying I love you without ever needing to repeat the words aloud. Though, of course, he did. Often. And Dafydd wouldn't have wanted it any other way. He lingered a moment longer, unseen, allowing himself the indulgence of observation. The set of Hartley's shoulders, the slight tilt of his head as he scanned the courtyard, the unmistakable patience threaded through his posture. At last, Dafydd stepped forward, boots echoing lightly against the stone before his voice followed, warm and threaded with quiet amusement. "Now, if I didn't know any better," he began, gaze flicking from the roses to Hartley's face, lingering there just a moment too long, "I might think you were trying to outdo yourself this year." |
SPOILER!!: Hart's other half! <3 Hart was in the yare sort of mindset. Not just because he was all set physically and materially with his surprise for Hart, but because his mind was too. By that, he meant there was no nervousness, just pure calmness. As he waited, though it was unknown to him that his husband had already arrived, he reflected on this fact. He had always been the confident type; that is, until Daf had come along. Hartley had suddenly become a nervous wreck when it came to asking him out on dates, or sometimes overthinking that those dates were planned to the level that Daf deserved. That all changed now, but what hadn’t? The way the other man gave him butterflies in the stomach and the manner in which he stammered; Daf always had an unintentional way of messing with his mind. The Historian took a glance at his watch. There was still some time before Dafydd got there but that was okay. He liked to be prepared - hey! The hubby was there already! Hart jerked his head up, a huge and warm smile lighting up his face immediately. Oh, there were those butterflies again as he met his gaze. “Maybe I am.” Smirking, Hart closed the distance between them to envelope him into a hug. “Only the best of the best for you. Which includes these roses.” But he was hugging him so tightly, it was a minute before the other guy could actually accept them, when he was finally released. |
Dafydd let out a soft huff of laughter against Hartley's shoulder as the embrace tightened. For a moment, he didn't move to pull away, content instead to stand there with his arms wrapped around him, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric at Hart's back. "Careful," he murmured, voice low, threaded with that same quiet amusement, "you'll crush them before I even get the chance to truly appreciate them." When Hart finally released him, Dafydd took the roses into his hands, gaze dropping to them. He turned the bouquet slightly, noting the careful arrangement, the richness of the petals, the way they caught the light. It and the man who had gone through all this effort made his heart want to deliquesce. "You do realize," Daf replied, tilting his head just slightly, "that you're setting a precedent I'll be expected to match. And I'm not entirely convinced you understand the danger of that." The corner of his mouth lifted into a playful smirk. Still holding the roses in one hand, Dafydd stepped forward again, closing the distance between them. His free hand came up, brushing briefly along Hart's sleeve, an affectionate gesture that lingered just a second longer than necessary. "They're perfect," he added, softer now. "Unfairly so, actually. And you—" his gaze flicked over him "—you're looking quite dashing this evening." |
SPOILER!!: Sweet Dafydd <3 Hartley could not help it: he just got warm and fuzzy whenever he was around Daf. Sometimes it was difficult to comprehend the effects that came over him; he was also fortunate that Dafydd was not someone to take advantage of these effects. It had helped Hart open up and be vulnerable since their relationship began. Presently, he couldn’t help but let Daf’s warmth and scent envelope him. Sometime later, he was chuckling. “Well then, I’ll just save the further squishing for later. In the meantime, you can enjoy your roses.” With some reluctance, he let the other man go. Ugh. When did you become clingy, Hartley? he wondered. But the thought evaporated as he watched the keen eyes admire the flowers. In turn, Hart admired the owner of those keen eyes. “Oh really?” That smirk was matched. “Even though I’m not expecting you to match my gestures. I mean, not that you can’t and aren’t easily able to but I just don’t expect you to put in all that effort. Not that you would see it as something time consuming or difficult.” Hart stopped to draw breath. “And I’m rambling. Again. Which is all your fault because you always mess with my head.” The latter was said in jest, not to hurt his husband. Daf stepping closer again made his lips now take on that familiar goofy smile - again, compliments of the delightful other half. “You like?’’ He wiggled his brows flirtatiously. “I got all decked up for you, my love.” However, he wasn’t the main attraction - or the full-course meal - so Hart indicated their waiting table packed with all the mouth-watering goodies. “A feast just for you! I hope you’re ravenous.” |
Dafydd's smile deepened despite himself. There it was. The rambling. The unstoppable, endearing stream of words that seemed to emerge whenever Hartley was particularly flustered, particularly affectionate, or—as was often the case—both at once. "My fault?" he repeated, lifting a brow with mock innocence. "An impressive accusation, considering you're perfectly capable of talking yourself into circles without any assistance from me." The teasing lingered in his eyes as he reached up and briefly straightened the lapel of Hartley's jacket, fingers lingering there for a moment. He was, admittedly, rather pleased with the effort his husband had gone to. Though perhaps not nearly as pleased as he was by the fact that Hartley still looked at him as though he were something extraordinary after all this time. "Merlin, Hart." His gaze followed the indicated direction toward the table, taking in the spread waiting for them. The sight alone was enough to draw another quiet laugh from him. The affection in his voice was impossible to miss. "You weren't joking when you said a feast." His eyes drifted back to Hartley, the courtyard's afternoon light casting a soft, lambent glow across familiar features. For a moment, Dafydd simply looked at him, allowing himself to appreciate the man standing before him: thoughtful, generous, endlessly earnest. "You know," he said quietly, stepping closer once more, "I could've happily spent our anniversary sharing chips from a paper wrapper on a park bench with you." A pause. "That said..." His gaze flicked back toward the table, amusement returning. "I'm certainly not about to complain about this alternative." He leaned forward just enough to press a brief kiss to Hartley's cheek. "Happy anniversary, love." |
SPOILER!!: Sweet Dafydd <3 That look on Dafydd’s face, the so very soft one, told him that his flustered rambling had been recognised. Of course it was. From the moment Hartley had met Daf, he had been rambling, something which had never happened with anyone else. The fact that such a drastic change had been brought over his personality often left him in awe. It was a nice change, truth be told; a reminder of how much he loved the other man. Oh ha ha HA. The husband had jokes, did he? He fixed Daf with a fake unamused look. “I’m going to hit you back with the fact that I was never goofy until you came around. So yes. Your fault, my love.” His eyes remain transfixed on the supremely good looking guy, even when his head turned a bit to plant a small kiss on the hand fixing his lapel. He would be relieved that his efforts were appreciated because truly, sometimes he wasn’t sure he was able to keep up with Daf’s own gestures of love. It wasn’t a competition, Hart knew, but he needed to at least make an attempt. And yes. His better half was someone phenomenal. Hart stood there, mightily pleased that he had at least managed to surprise Daf. “Nope! I wasn’t. Nothing’s too much for you, you know.” Cue an extra goofy grin from him, especially when he realised that Dafydd was gazing at him. Also cue all his thoughts evaporating from his head. “Er…” How did he reply to that when he was supposed to process the words said to him first? But also, how was Hartley supposed to process things when his brain refused to cooperate? It was actually the warmth of Daf’s lips against his cheek that brought him back to reality a bit. “Happy anniversary, babe.” Longer kisses would have to wait until they got back to their place. But for now… “Shall we eat?” |
"Ah, so we're rewriting history now?" he asked with a quiet laugh. "I refuse to believe I created the goofiness from nothing. At most, I uncovered it." He brushed his thumb briefly across Hartley's knuckles before adding, with unmistakable fondness, "And, for the record, I consider that one of my greater accomplishments." The feast spread before them was every bit as impressive up close as it had been from across the courtyard. Dafydd took in the assortment of dishes, recognising favourite after favourite among them, and shook his head with quiet disbelief. "Honestly, Hart, at this rate you're going to convince the entire wizarding world that I'm secretly royalty." He pulled out a chair before setting the bouquet down carefully, ensuring not a single petal was disturbed. Only then did he settle into his seat, his gaze returning to Hartley with that steady warmth that never seemed to fade. "Thank you," he said simply. Not for the roses. Not for the meal. For all of it. For every thoughtful gift gathered from distant corners of the world. For every small act of devotion that Hartley seemed to perform as naturally as breathing. When nectarous drinks were brought to the table, Dafydd lifted his glass, pausing before taking a sip. "A toast?" One eyebrow arched. "To a husband who somehow manages to be simultaneously brilliant, ridiculous, thoughtful, stubborn, generous, and impossibly handsome." His smile widened slightly. "To another year of marriage and many more years ahead." He gestured, his glass tipping gently toward Hartley's. |
SPOILER!!: Hart’s other half! <3 Hartley couldn’t help it; he too laughed. “Okay, I can agree with that. That being said, this is just a simple reminder that all this goofiness is just for you.” He wasn’t sure how romantic that sounded, or indeed, how romantic it actually was but it was the truth. But judging from the latter words coming out of Daf’s mouth, the husband still loved the goofiness. “Careful now, my love. I think I see your head inflating slightly due to some ego.” Ah, how Hart LOVED teasing the man before him! He suddenly gasped quite dramatically but of course it was in a playful nature. “You mean… you’re NOT royalty? Was I duped into thinking I was marrying into royal blood?” HA. As if that mattered to him. Daf was perfect, lineage and all. Just look at the careful way he was ensuring that no harm came to those roses; clearly those were treasured roses. It made Hart think of how Daf was with him: just as tender and loving. Yeah… he couldn’t have picked a better partner for himself. Wait, strike that. He was lucky that Daf had chosen HIM. The Historian plopped onto the seat close to his heart. “You’re welcome,’’ he replied with all the warmth and love. Dafydd’s words of gratitude were simple but he needn’t say more; everything was understood. Hart genuinely enjoyed planning and executing all the lovely gestures for him, be it big ones or small ones. His own glass was seized as Daf suggested a toast.What a brilliant toast! Hart grinned. “I couldn’t put that better myself. Big fan of being referred to as ‘ridiculous’, by the way, babe.” Because yes… he could be! “Here’s to you, Daf, for always loving and being patient with me. I would choose you to be mine in every lifetime. To many more years of togetherness!” His glass met the other halfway in a delicate but firm clink, sealing the promises. Hart then drank deeply from his. |
"Just for me, hmm?" Dafydd's laugh came easily at Hartley's declaration. One brow lifted. "Well, now I feel rather privileged. Imagine having exclusive access to all this goofiness." The teasing warmth in his eyes only deepened at the mention of his ego. "My ego?" he repeated. "I seem to recall a certain husband informing me approximately five minutes ago that nothing is too much for me. If anyone's responsible for inflating my sense of self-importance, I suspect it's you." The dramatic gasp that followed earned another shake of his head. "I'm afraid not. No royal blood. No secret inheritance. No hidden kingdom waiting to be reclaimed." His gaze flicked briefly toward the roses he had carefully set aside. "Though if there were, I imagine you'd still find a way to make a bigger fuss over me than any royal court ever could." As they settled at the table, he found himself watching Hartley for a moment after the other man sat down. There was something endlessly endearing about the way Hart seemed so genuinely pleased by his own efforts whenever they were appreciated, which they always were. The sight had an uncanny ability to kindle the same quiet affection in Dafydd no matter how many times he witnessed it. The toast drew a soft smile from him, one that only grew when Hart immediately latched onto a single word: ridiculous. "Of course that's the part you focus on," he said dryly. "Well," he said quietly once Hart had finished, lifting his glass once more, "someone has to keep you from accidentally adopting every stray creature, cursed artefact, and questionable project that crosses your path." His tone was light, the affection beneath unmistakable. "And for the record, patience has very little to do with it." He reached across the table, his fingers brushing briefly against Hartley's hand. "You're worth it." Simple. Matter-of-fact. Entirely true. Dafydd finally took another sip of his drink before setting the glass aside. "Now," he continued, glancing toward the impressive spread of food between them, "tell me honestly—how long have you been planning this?" His eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. He knew the look of a man who'd been secretly orchestrating something for a while. |
SPOILER!!: Hart’s other half! <3 “Just for you!” Hart happily confirmed. He had no qualms about that entire aspect of his personality being all for the man before him. In any case, every aspect of him was Daf’s. “I’m glad you recognise that, babe. I know you haven’t any doubts about it but it’s a reminder nevertheless.” Oh yes, that teasing was noted; clearly teasing was something that neither of them would quench when it came to the other. Okay, Dafydd had him there and he told him as much, laughing in amusement as this was done. “So that means I’ll be inflating that ego rather often then. Oh no, I fell into my own trap.” Cue the fake look of horror! That look quickly melted into a soft one. Of course there was no concern, nor would there ever be, with regard to any sort of royalty. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any more teasing. “Of course! Only the best and the loudest ways, within reason, to show my love for you.” Would Daf ever get used to that? Hart hoped not! The Historian had been busy inspecting - yet again! - the spread he had ordered. Everything was still in tip-top shape, which was a relief. But then he felt those eyes on him and he looked up to meet the other pair. Such gorgeous, gorgeous eyes! It would be easy for anyone to drown in them. Hart didn’t say anything to that, simply beamed a million-watt smile. Which he supposed was a reply itself to Daf. Yep, he liked when his hubby called him ‘ridiculous’! “Oh! Is that the reason you married me?” he asked brightly. “To keep me in check?” Then he got a little serious, definitely shifting the lightheartedness of their conversation. “But I am always grateful for you looking out for me.” There was a wiggle of eyebrows from him as that question was tossed out. “For a while. I needed to ensure everything was perfection. Just wait until you see what else is in store for you, babe!” Hart tapped his chin thoughtfully. “By the way,’’ he asked casually. “Do you have a wishlist?” Perhaps Christmas can come early for the love of his life, and Hart would be playing the part of Santa. Ho Ho Ho! |
A smile curved immediately at the emphatic confirmation. "I should certainly hope so," he replied, entirely unrepentant. "It would be rather disappointing to discover you've been sharing my exclusive supply of Hartley goofiness with the general public." His gaze warmed as he looked at him. The look of mock horror earned a laugh that Dafydd made no effort to suppress. "Oh, you've absolutely fallen into your own trap." He lifted his glass slightly in acknowledgment. "Years of compliments. Years of grand gestures. Years of insisting I'm apparently worthy of the moon and stars. The ego never stood a chance." The softness that followed Hart's next words drew an equally fond look from him. "No," he admitted. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it." Nor did he particularly want to. "That was only one of the reasons." Dafydd's tone remained perfectly serious for approximately half a second. "Another was the hope that one day I'd finally discover the upper limit of your enthusiasm." He shook his head lightly. "Three years later and I'm beginning to suspect there isn't one." The sincerity that followed caused his own teasing expression to fade. His hand shifted across the table, resting briefly atop Hartley's. "You never need to thank me for that." Looking out for Hart had never felt like an obligation. It was simply something he wanted to do. Dafydd pointed at him immediately. "There it is. The plotting." His eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. "I knew it." The mention of more surprises only confirmed every suspicion he had been developing over the course of the anniversary celebrations. And the question about a wishlist earned a thoughtful hum. "A wishlist..." he repeated. His gaze drifted briefly toward the courtyard before returning to his husband. "Honestly? Not many things." Material gifts had never held much appeal compared to shared experiences. After a moment, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Though if you're asking because you're secretly planning something—and let's be honest, you absolutely are—I suppose my answer is simple." His fingers brushed lightly against Hartley's as he beamed radiantly back at him. "More time with you." |
SPOILER!!: The <3 Hartley huffed playfully. “I promise you that the chances of that are zero.” His word about goofiness was like one of those wedding vows, one that he intended to keep for as long as he lived. He really liked that he found something else that was a first when it came to Daf - the other being his heart. Ah, that laughter! His heart soared even higher upon hearing it. “I think this is the kind of trap I can get used to!” Hart bobbed his head enthusiastically. “And babe? You are worthy of the moon and stars.” So how Daf ended up choosing someone as goofy as him, he did not know. THREE years later. Wow, where had the time gone? “I don’t think there’s one either. But who knows?” Hart smiled mysteriously. “It might be a good thing that all my secrets aren’t yet revealed.” Those eyebrows of his wiggles playfully. Goodness, his happiness knew no bounds when it came to his person! Even Hart wasn’t sure how it could be but the simple gesture of Daf resting a hand on his was enough to make his heart explode with even more happiness. “I love that you look out for me, as I do for you. I just need you to know that I love you for that. I can’t help the gratitude that flows through my veins every time I think of all you do for me.” Even more, he was grateful that they were partners. Then he was cackling as Dafydd pointed at him ‘accusingly’. Wasn’t it lovely how they could go from heartfelt conversations to playful ones? “When it comes to you, babe, there’s always plotting involved. Why did Hartley know that that wishlist would not be an extensive one? As he watched his hubby, he turned his hand upwards so that he would be able to intertwine their fingers. He then gave Daf’s a squeeze. “Ugh. Why are you positively the sweetest? Your wish is my command, Daf. I promise you’ll have lots more time with me.” How this man had managed to unlock so much love from him, Hart did not know. He just knew that he didn’t ever wish for it to be locked away. Ever. |
Dafydd regarded him with exaggerated solemnity, though the amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth rather undermined the effect. "Good. I would hate to learn that the public has been receiving even a fraction of what I was assured was mine exclusively." His expression softened as his gaze settled on Hartley. "Your heart included." The declaration about the moon and stars earned a quieter smile. Even after all their years together, Hartley still possessed an uncanny ability to say such things with complete sincerity, as though Dafydd's worth were an indisputable fact rather than a matter of opinion. "You realise statements like that are precisely how you ended up trapped beneath my rapidly expanding ego," he pointed out. His thumb brushed affectionately across Hartley's knuckles. "Although, for what it's worth, I consider myself rather fortunate that you chose to fall into it with me." Three years. It was difficult to reconcile the number with how naturally Hartley had woven himself into every part of Dafydd's life. There were moments when their wedding seemed like yesterday and others when he could scarcely recall what home had felt like before it included Hart's laughter, his relentless enthusiasm, and the unmistakable evidence of his latest project scattered across some previously tidy surface. Dafydd narrowed his eyes at the mysterious smile and animated eyebrows. "That sounds remarkably like a threat disguised as flirtation." He leaned back slightly, studying his husband with theatrical suspicion. "How many secrets are we discussing? And, more importantly, do any of them involve international travel or objects you were specifically advised you not to touch?" The teasing left his features as Hartley spoke, replaced by something gentler and infinitely more sincere. His gaze lingered on Hartley for a quiet moment before he added, ardently, "I know. And I hope you know the same is true for me. I would make that choice every single day." His fingers threaded easily through Hartley's when the other man turned his hand, tightening around them at the squeeze. "Lots more time," Daf repeated, as though committing the promise carefully to memory. "Good. I fully intend to hold you to that." He lifted their joined hands and pressed a brief kiss against Hartley’s knuckles. |
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