psl; the broken hearts book club

[revmeup]

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[revmeup]

Over the course of the morning, Harley has managed to both curl up in and sprawl over the chair. She unfurls when she hears him come in, and squints confusion at how far the sun has progressed while she was studying.

She tips her head over the back of the chair and blows him a kiss. "Hi, loverboy," she coos as she stretches her arms toward him. "I'll give you a present if you make breakfast."

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

He takes a moment to marvel at the way she spreads over furniture like a viscous liquid, flexible in a way his limbs could never attempt without injury. "A present, hmm? Well, how could I say no to that? Though, technically speaking, if it's in exchange for breakfast, is it a gift, or merely payment?" He teases. She stretches out her arms, and he's not quite sure what the appropriate response is (a hug? a kiss?), so he merely steps closer, within grabbing distance. They should probably talk about everything that's happened, but instead he just asks, "What would you like for me to make?"

[revmeup]

"I'd give you the present anyway," she admits as she pulls him onto her lap and her hand on the back of his neck guides him down for a kiss. Breakfast is suddenly not of interest with her arms full of hot wizard man.

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

"Ah, well, in that case--" He makes a little surprised sound as she pulls him down, not expecting to be the one pulled into her lap. For a second, he worries he's too heavy. For another second, he thinks, if we're going to keep doing this, we need to have a discussion about it. But then they are kissing, and those thoughts evaporate like so much smoke.

[revmeup]

"Oh no," she sighs between kisses, "Now this is the only thing I want to do for the rest of the day." She wants to keep going until his lips are swollen and neither of them have breath left in their lungs or thoughts left in their heads.

But, needs must.

She lands a light swat on his butt. "Go on, before we both forget to eat anything all day and get yelled at by Tara. And then you can have your present. It's very dull reading. You'll love it."

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

He gives a small, surprised yelp at that, and straightens, looking indignant. Suffice to say, Mystra never swatted him playfully on the ass, and it will require some adjustment.

"Fine, fine. Just to keep Tara from getting angry," he says, even though it's absolutely not true. He would do just about anything Harley asked him to, at this point.

He spends some time debating what he should make. It's their first meal of the day, but it's closer to lunchtime than breakfast. Eventually he sets to work, and this time the distinctive smells and sounds of frying waft up to the study. Once he's done, he calls up to her to let her know. The little kitchen table is set with fried quipper and chips, with hundur sauce and melted waterdhavian cheese to dip it in

[revmeup]

She follows her nose to the kitchen, but doesn't take a seat at the table right away. First, she has to slide an arm around his middle and nuzzle into the spot just below his ear.

"Mm. Do you eat like this all the time or are you still trying to impress me?"

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

It tickles a little, and he squirms without ever trying to escape. "That depends. Are you impressed?"

[revmeup]

That's too adorable. She grins against his skin and flicks her tongue over his pulse. Gods, she has got to learn some self control fast or she'll doom the entire city.

"Mmhmm. You're very impressive."

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

Gale sucks in a breath and tries to think chaste thoughts.

"I've been told so often enough, but seldom for my cooking, which is a shame."

[revmeup]

Her breath catches at the way his heartbeat quickens under her lips. It takes a monumental strength of will to pull away and sit for a meal.

"Then I'll keep doing it, to make up for the deficit."

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

"Then I'll keep cooking to impress you," he replies with a big grin.

He dishes out both their food, setting aside fish for Tara when she comes home, before sitting down at the table himself

[revmeup]

She reaches across the table to run her fingers over the back of his hand, tracing carefully over the new ring on his little finger. She doesn't pray before meals but it feels right in this moment to leave space for whatever new thing is blooming between them.

"You didn't change your mind in the light of day, did you?"

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

"What? No!" He sputters, almost knocking over his drink. "Why, have you?"

[revmeup]

"No, no, honey, no!" She's quick to reach for him, to catch his face on her hands and press soothing kisses along his jaw. "I wanted to give you an out so if you had, you wouldn't feel like an asshole for bringing it up first."

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

He definitely wasn't panicking and super doesn't need to be comforted about it. "Ah, well, in that case, you needn't have worried. I'm not really the sort to change my mind about such things, definitely not overnight."

[revmeup]

She smiles with relief and she lets go of his face to bring both of his hands to her lips, where she peppers more kisses across his knuckles.

"Well, just remember that I did give you a chance, and you were fool enough to keep me anyway."

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

He flushes again, partly hidden by his beard, but it still creeps to his ears. Such casual but thorough affection has become foreign, and every time it appears, it is a surprise all over again. "Perhaps, but as you know, I've already been deemed the most high maintenance pet in all of Waterdeep." And of course, Tara would know.

[revmeup]

She sees that flush rise on his skin and falls in love all over again. Gods, he is so sweet. She could eat him up.

"Ah, well," she sighs over his perfect hands before letting go, "I'm sure I can keep hold of your leash."

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

Just when he thought it was safe to take a sip of his tea, she goes and says that, and he at least only manages to spit a little. "Well." Now he's really red. "Anyway."

[revmeup]

She sighs again, endlessly delighted that she can scandalize him so easily, and takes a moment to gaze upon the lovely sight of his fierce blush. She tucks into the meal, in a sudden hurry to finish here so she can woo him with the most romantic of gifts for a wizard: academic texts.

"I love you," she says casually between chews, "in case you thought you dreamed that part."

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

"I rather thought I might have," he said between bites. "You might still change your mind. You haven't known me terribly long, and this on the heels of heartbreak?" Hadn't she been the one so suggest a rebound to him? Maybe that's what he was, even if it wasn't intentional.

[revmeup]

There's a clatter of her cutlery dropping and a sharp hiss of breath. She has an expression like he struck her, and would honestly prefer if he had.

She pushes back from the table and stands, looking toward the exit. She swallows thickly, tense all over and trembling with the effort of not walking out.

"Between us, I am not the one on the heels of heartbreak," she rasps, "so don't project that onto me.

[stoplickingthedamnthing]

He sees her look at the door, and fear cuts him like a cold blade. She'll leave again and never come back. His heart hammers like a trapped and desperate thing.

"Didn't you mention explosively shattering mirrors, scars, and shards of glass that still cut you when you think you've cleaned them all up?" Some part of him, smaller and younger, wants to take it back, turn back time by a few minutes, cry and beg for her not to go. The more predominant part puts up a wall by pretending everything is an academic debate you can win by being well spoken and citing sources. "I'm not the only one who worshiped, by your own admission, and that kind of devotion, cleaved from its altar, leaves wounds. We can debate the chronology and whether 'on the heels of' applies, but not the hurt left behind, surely?"

[revmeup]

Her eyes flick to him. She can taste the beginning of vicious mockery on her tongue and swallows the acid down. Her throat feels like it might close up, might choke her from the inside out, to save her from saying too many things she will immediately regret.

"Excuse me for a moment."

She grimaces down at the table, shakes her head to clear her thoughts, and trails her hand across his shoulders on the way out of the room. She goes further in, to the study, and returns with a stack of thick leather-wrapped folios. She presses the documents to his chest -- her thesis on how the effect of being in love can influence individuals to abandon societal norms,her dissertation on loss of empathy as a survival mechanism in longterm traumatic situations, all her research and interview notes, her personal journals from her days in academia -- and sweeps away to take her meal on the balcony.

This is the gift for him. She hopes that as a wizard, as the kind of person he is, that he can understand the deeper meaning of opening all these old parts of herself.

These are love letters.