Work Text:
There was a courtship; there’s no doubt about that. A public show of clasped hands and light kisses.
They didn’t jump into it. An alcoholically unblurred, unhurried trot down a once familiar lane; routines half-remembered but now flecked with awkwardness and a wariness that spoke of past tactical warfare—old enemies coming to terms with tension.
It wasn’t without rules, either. Maps given boundaries; demons reigned with rules that project onto other things.
It was loving. At the very least, it was a place to call home and one or two constants in their lives. A place to hide when the glitter and gold became nauseating, with somebody who knew and understood.
Conflict, though, when one or the other brought up history or couldn’t understand why the other had/wanted/demanded to work three shows, or couldn’t understand the placid control-freak in the other. Turning to their collective ‘others’ in such times—breaks and time working well.
Unlike last time, they kept their ‘others’. And their rules. And their love.