[ quentin can tell there's no arguing, that there's no rebuttal or question - he can stay, and he can stay with koby. there will be no more wandering, no more hurt, no more questions. he leans into the last offered kiss and hums, pulling away with watery eyes and a tired, but lopsided grin pulled across his mouth. ]
I am an expert at walking now.
[ he aches all over, sore and weary, but he pushes himself to his feet before koby, if only so that he can offer him a hand up like he would have so long ago. koby's taller, broader - filled out in a way he' begun to see but never saw through fruition. there's something to admire there among the fatigue, a stirring of warmth at the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his hands, the firm set of his jaw.
the determination and confidence behind his eyes. ]
Lead the way. Don't let go of my hand, hm?
[ as if the comfort is for koby, but he knows better. it's for him. to make sure koby is real still, warm and comfortably, fingers wrapped around his. and he can find the captain's cabin, knows already where it is just by thinking of it, a pulse of something powerful and strong fizzling around them.
he doesn't want to let him go - holds his fingers the whole way to the quarters, even wary to let them go here when the door shuts behind them, the room so very koby in all ways and yet foreign at the same time. he stills, unsure of where he can move once in the doorway, frozen like a stranger sneaking around someone else's house.
he's missed so much. ]
This is your ship?
[ it's just really started to sink in, his tired mind having said nothing but kobykobykobykoby for the better part of a year. now he's here. koby is here and real and everything missing about him. ]
no subject
I am an expert at walking now.
[ he aches all over, sore and weary, but he pushes himself to his feet before koby, if only so that he can offer him a hand up like he would have so long ago. koby's taller, broader - filled out in a way he' begun to see but never saw through fruition. there's something to admire there among the fatigue, a stirring of warmth at the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his hands, the firm set of his jaw.
the determination and confidence behind his eyes. ]
Lead the way. Don't let go of my hand, hm?
[ as if the comfort is for koby, but he knows better. it's for him. to make sure koby is real still, warm and comfortably, fingers wrapped around his. and he can find the captain's cabin, knows already where it is just by thinking of it, a pulse of something powerful and strong fizzling around them.
he doesn't want to let him go - holds his fingers the whole way to the quarters, even wary to let them go here when the door shuts behind them, the room so very koby in all ways and yet foreign at the same time. he stills, unsure of where he can move once in the doorway, frozen like a stranger sneaking around someone else's house.
he's missed so much. ]
This is your ship?
[ it's just really started to sink in, his tired mind having said nothing but kobykobykobykoby for the better part of a year. now he's here. koby is here and real and everything missing about him. ]