Chapter Text
“You’re back!”
The Shirasagi Himegimi, poised and perfect, well-mannered and pleasantly gentle, loved by all of Inazuma, bounds like a newborn fawn into her brother’s arms. There, she buries her face against his arm and nearly knocks Ayato to the ground. Thankfully, there’s a steadying hand appears at his lower back at just the right moment, fingers curling into his jacket longer than they would have mere weeks ago.
“Did we keep you waiting?” Ayato teases as his arms comfortably loop his sister’s small frame.
“You did,” Ayaka breathes out, unabashed, as she hugs him even tighter.
Ayato spares a glance over the top of her head to Thoma beside him. Thoma smiles back, soothingly kind, and sets their bags down at his feet, anticipating Ayaka’s next move. As predicted, she finally lets go of her brother and then flies into Thoma’s waiting arms.
“I hope he treated you fairly,” Ayaka is mumbling into chest.
“Of course, my lady,” says Thoma without missing a beat. “If he hadn’t, you’d be the first to know.”
“Good,” she mumbles, petulant but with endless fondness. She stays in Thoma’s arms for a few more moments before she peeks over at her brother who is standing with his hands neatly laced together. “You’ll have to tell me all about it over lunch. I’ll have the cooks start it,” she says quietly.
“We’re not shoving Thoma back into the kitchen immediately?” Ayato ponders aloud.
Ayaka’s glare is worth it.
Finally, Ayaka extracts herself from the pair of them. As if remembering her age, she adjusts the wrinkles in her clothes and affixes them both with a sweeter smile that’s still just as excited as the unabashed joy from before. Even if decades pass, she is still the younger sister that Ayato remembers sneaking into his room during storms.
Ayaka playfully swats at her brother with her fan before she disappears back beyond the gates, likely to instruct the cooks to prepare Thoma and Ayato’s favorites. Ayato wouldn’t expect any less from her.
It feels nice to be home, Ayato thinks, as the breeze rushes past them. It carries on it sakura petals and Ayato is instantly struck with the silliest urge to decorate Thoma’s hair with them. So, he does, reaching over to place an errant petal just above Thoma’s ear.
Thoma, in the midst of retrieving their bags from the ground, blinks in overt confusion. He must have missed what Ayato did, because his gaze is trained on Ayato’s too innocent smile, as if trying to riddle out its origins.
“My, my, what do we have here?” Ayato asks as he reaches back out and plucks the petal from his hair, pinching it behind his index finger and thumb. “Why, it’s a sakura petal. That’s ten years good luck. How fortunate for you, Thoma.”
Thoma’s chuckle erupts from his stomach. The burning sound settles in the pit of Ayato’s stomach so damn hotly. “If we’re going to be married for ten more years, I’ll need it,” says Thoma, cheekily tossing his lord a look before he trails after Ayaka into the Estate.
Ayato has never been more in love with him.
* * * * * * *
Ayaka finds them outside of Ayato’s quarters. Thoma is in the middle of shuffling both of their bags into his room when Ayaka turns the corner and quickens her pace.
“Lunch will be ready soon,” she says, her hands behind her back as she approaches. “I’ve asked them to have it ready out in the gardens. It’s too beautiful of a day not to enjoy the weather.”
She pauses, gaze drifting from her brother to the bags, plural, that are disappearing into the bedroom. Accordingly, she quirks a brow, but voices nothing on the matter. Thoma must not notice it because he returns with a cheerful grin and dusts his hands off on his thighs. Ayato, on the other hand, is coyly tapping his finger to his lips as he considers his sister’s words.
“While we wait, why don’t I show you some of the pictures we took?”
Ayato reaches into the pocket of his jacket and retrieves his kamera. He flicks it on and then gestures for Ayaka to join his side so that he can start flipping through the pictures. The first few are from the ship they took to Liyue and then of the harbor. From there, it quickly devolves into every other picture being a candid of Thoma, the blonde somewhere in the frame. By the time they reach the Lantern Rite, Ayaka’s brows have disappeared behind her bangs.
“These are very thoughtful pictures,” Ayaka says, her hand covering the budding smirk. “Did you take all of these, brother?”
"Thoma took a few,” Ayato hums, sparing him a glance over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”
Thoma’s face is a beet red, as if he’s realizing for the first time just how many pictures Ayato took of him without him noticing.
Thoma stutters out a quick, “just a few, but most of the credit goes to my lord,” before he dutifully tries not to combust into flames.
“Those are beautiful robes,” Ayaka compliments.
They stop on a picture one of the guild members had taken for them: they’re facing the camera, their backs to the sea, the sun low in the sky. Thoma’s arm is tightly wrapped at Ayato’s waist and Ayato is wearing one of the small smiles he reserves just for Thoma. Ayaka blushes, snapping her gaze away from the illuminated screen. It lands on her brother’s left hand, where a new gold band lives.
“You’re wearing a ring?” she asks, grabbing for it without warning. “I didn’t even know you had these.”
Ayato is undaunted. “I’ve been told it’s a Mondstadt tradition to exchange wedding rings. A merchant from Mondstadt happened to be selling them while we were touring the festival.”
Ayaka looks to Thoma. Thoma, to his credit, is pretending to be rather occupied with flipping through the kamera he’s taken from Ayato before it could fall when Ayaka reached for him. His cheeks, though, remain enflamed as the sunlight streaming in through the window catches on his matching ring. As if on a track, Ayaka’s gaze roves back to her brother and she accusingly looks from her brother’s eyes to Thoma’s hand, back and forth, until he seems to catch on.
“Is it so surprising that I’d want to embrace my husband’s culture, too?” Ayato ponders as he wraps an arm around Thoma’s waist and yanks him closer.
Thoma yelps in surprise and nearly drops the kamera. He isn’t given much time to recover before Ayato has settled his chin happily down on Thoma’s shoulder, smiling at him in a way Ayaka has only ever seen when Thoma isn’t paying attention.
This is new.
“But you aren’t really married,” Ayaka repeats for the hundredth and first time and waits.
“Hm. About that,” Ayato says, pleasantly, while Thoma is nervously laughing and giving her a pathetically helpless look, “how do you feel about helping us plan a spring wedding?”
Ayaka throws her hands down at her sides. “I knew it!”
* * * * * * *
Ayato glances up from his novel as Thoma enters the room wearing a look of utmost focus. In his hands are three potted plants and thrown over his shoulder is a heavy blanket that Ayato remembers Thoma telling him was a gift from his mother years ago.
“Bringing in our new roommates?” Ayato asks as he dog-ears the page and sets the book aside.
Thoma nods, half paying attention, and carries his children over to the windowsill. There, he rearranges a few of the books Ayato has set up there in order to bracket the plants. In the end, the plants serve as bookends and Ayato thinks it may be the cutest thing he’s ever seen Thoma do to date.
“There,” Thoma proudly says, his hands coming down to his hips as he admires his work.
Ayato remains on the futon, sprawled out on top of the sheets, his robe hanging halfway open. The sash at his waist is loose and Ayato has zero intention of fixing it before for many hours.
“It looks charming,” Ayato says and stretches his arms lazily above his head, catlike.
Thoma turns to him, ready to say something, but he finally notices the state of dress his lord is in and the downright filthy look burning across his face. Thoma audibly gulps.
“Hm? Is something wrong, Thoma?” Ayato asks, patting the spot beside him on the futon.
“Nothing,” Thoma says, laughs once, and then makes his way over. He kneels beside the futon and carefully drapes the blanket down at the foot of the futon, mindful not to cover a single bare inch of Ayato with it. “It’s fine to bring this in here, right?”
“Of course.” Ayato uses the angle they’re in to lift his foot into the air and teasingly nudge it under Thoma’s chin. Like this, he can urge his husband’s eyes back toward him. “This is half yours, now, after all.”
“My lord…”
“Ah?”
“…Ayato.”
Ayato smiles at the correction and lowers his foot. The robe slips with it, exposing more of Ayato’s leg and upper thigh as he rests back on his elbows. The look is still smoldering and Thoma seems to linger where he is, eyes washing over every speck of Ayato’s body.
“She caught on much faster than I thought she would,” Ayato says, idly, spreading his legs a fraction, the robe hiking up higher. “I suppose she is just as cunning as I am, at the end of the day.”
Thoma shakes his head and quickly joins Ayato on the futon. A warm hand splays across the peak of one of his thighs. It’s a direct contrast to the coolness of Ayato’s skin.
“I wouldn’t say cunning,” Thoma says as he rubs small circles into the skin. “Smart and observant, is what I would say.”
“Yes, yes,” Ayato says, though his voice is thinning into something a little breathier. “What would you describe me as, then?”
“That’s a dangerous question to ask of me, Ayato,” Thoma mumbles, his fingertips drifting higher, disappearing under the hem of the robe. Green eyes flick back up to Ayato’s face. “If I misspeak, will you kick me out and send me back to my room?”
“Only if you dare to stop touching me,” Ayato whispers, his chest heaving a heavier sigh when Thoma’s fingertips go even higher.
“Never,” Thoma promises and leans in for a kiss, pulling him close.
Their eyes meet and Ayato feels himself melting, vaporizing into the air as Thoma leans in impossibly closer, steadily making his heart pump faster, and Ayato knows, deep down in his heart, in his soul, that this is exactly where they needed to be, this exact moment, where they were destined to be —
“I don’t think I’ve told you yet that I love you, have I?” Ayato whispers into the still of the night, their version of forever.
Thoma’s lips quirk up into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, and breathes against his lips, “I think I finally got the hint.” And then quieter, just for him, for them, “I love you, too. Ayato.”
FIN