07 March 2012 @ 09:44 pm
 Ellis and Aidan can hardly believe it when the news comes that the war is over. Their enemies, after so long, have surrendered. Equal bursts of relief, disbelief, and joy go through them, and then everything becomes a blur; finally they will be able to cast off their uniforms, put down their guns. The world is in a sad shape, but they can work toward rebuilding now. Yes, many lives have been lost along the way, but

At least we have each other.

Aidan smiles at Ellis. The danger is over. They had promised each other that once the war was over, they would start a proper life together.

White picket fence and all?

Ellis smiles back.

“Yes. White picket fence and all.”

They leave together, and they don’t turn back. They have kept each other sane; Aidan kept Ellis’s heart from breaking, and Ellis protected Aidan’s soul from the bleak things they’ve seen. As long as they were together, everything seemed more bearable, because there were always arms to run into.

It doesn’t take them long to find a house to move into. Everything seems a lot stranger now that the war is over; the desperation is gone, leaving only happiness. Ellis worried (very briefly) that Aidan would get bored of a more domestic life, but he was mistaken. Soon their minds are occupied with things other than war, and when the memories resurface late at night, one can wake the other and soothe the nightmares away with a warm embrace and many kisses. Love is not a medicine, but their support, constantly working toward a higher level of happiness, helps carry them through.

Ellis curls up at Aidan’s side, like he does every night, and he watches the heaving of Aidan’s chest as his breath returns normal, a slight sheen of sweat across his skin. His thoughts are a cheerful buzz in Aidan’s mind, and he turns his head to kiss the tip of Ellis’s nose. One thing Ellis really likes about their link; Aidan’s love for him is a constant. It’s always present between the two of them, even when it is a small sliver of his consciousness.

Of course, Aidan knows the thought before Ellis voices it, but he’s gotten used to Ellis after all this time. He knows that Ellis prefers to speak his thoughts when he has had time to whittle them down from broad, spindling towers of words and swirling pinwheels of colour and thought into something brief, concise, elegant.

“We’ve been together a few years now… Do you think… Would you be interested in adopting?” Of course, he can’t suppress the wave of longing. Aidan chuckles. He pulls Ellis close—he knows how much Ellis likes the feel of skin on skin; face to face, heart to heart—and gives him a long kiss.

“I thought you would never ask.”


They pass the years living with the ease they never imagined while they were soldiers. Time is a funny thing; it passes so fast sometimes. No, they are not without their arguments, but those are resolved quickly and efficiently.

(In fact, their children often complain that their dads are the perfect team. They both know the kids don’t really mind. They have been raised better than that.)

“Did you know,” Aidan says one day. “That we have been together since we were in our twenties?”

Ellis laughs. His hands are getting arthritic and there is grey in his hair. Aidan hasn’t noticed. He doesn’t care what Ellis looks like. Ellis gives him a kiss. “That was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” There’s that grin again, the one that never changed. His hands rest on Ellis’s hips and Ellis leans his head on his husband’s shoulder.

“I would have to agree with that, my dear.”

“And how much longer do you intend to stick around?”

“Oh, forever. As long as you’re here.”

“Then forever it is.”

( Read comments )
Post a comment in response:
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.