For Elio

[latermaybe]

Our furniture, which had seemed so large crammed into our tiny apartment, was now scattered about a space that seemed too large for only two. Open air and light, built in shelves, study space and a music room, and a kitchen one could actually cook in. It was beautiful, and after months of negotiating and planning and overseeing every detail, I had to hope that it was everything Elio wanted it to be.

It was everything to me, because it was ours.

Because of scheduling, the piano had been one of the first things to be moved over, and now, I carefully arranged boxes around it, knowing that it would likely need to be tuned from the move, but not wanted to make it any worse. The boxes contained journals and sheet music, various files and scribbled notes, bits of Elio's genius and madness.

I sat down on the piano bench, flipping through one of the notebooks and scanning the fragments of lyrics scribbled there, one corner of my mouth curved in a smile.

Comments

[speakordie]

“Babe, I don’t even know what’s going on up there half the time,” I reply with a happy chuckle, gaze softening as he reaches out to me. It’s the easiest thing in the world to take his hand and let him reel me in, squeezing his fingers and presenting my cheek for a kiss before sitting next to him. “Mm, it was lovely. There was a sunbeam and everything.”

My hands move to the keys almost on muscle memory alone, tinkering over a few keys. One note twangs sharply and I frown at it, wincing as I prod at it a few times.

“And it’s a good thing,” I add with a pout, testing a few more keys. Of course it would need some tinkering after being moved across town, but my piano being out of tune feels so viscerally wrong. “Because it looks like I’m not sleeping tonight.”

[latermaybe]

"Do you want me to call the tuner?" I asked, knowing he would want it in working order sooner rather than later. I rested a hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently. He could do a bit of tinkering himself, but the music department at Barton used a decent service and we'd called them before.

Carefully closing his notebook and setting it back down in the box, I leaned over to kiss the sharp curve of his shoulder, breathing in the the scent of him, slightly deepened from his nap.

[speakordie]

“Mm, I already got something on the books with them but it’s not until tomorrow,” I inform him distractedly, shoulders tense as I play a melody that sounds just the slightest bit off.

There is really only one thing that can distract me when I get like this, and I’m reminded of it when Oliver’s big hand settles on my back and he leans in close. It would be foolish to get in my head about something that will be fixed tomorrow, and tarnish the first night in our new house.

He sniffs me and I tilt my head to give him better access, hopelessly endeared. I pull the cover over the piano keys and pat it reassuringly, then shift until I can reach up and take Oliver’s face in my hands, staring at him warmly.

“Snooping through my stuff. Sniffing my hair,” I tease, stroking my thumb over the corner of his mouth. “Careful, people may think you’re obsessed with me.”

[latermaybe]

"People would be right," I murmured, biting at the top of his shoulder through his shirt, then pressing my lips to the pad of his thumb.

"We should do some unpacking," I suggested, as if being responsible, when I doubted that would be our reason for leaving this bench. I kissed the heel of his hand, hopelessly in love with him and overwhelmed to be sitting in a house that was truly, unequivocally ours.

[speakordie]

“Good thing it’s mutual,” I reply, smiling as he bites me. But then I can’t help but to lift a skeptical brow at his suggestion. “Everything is inside the house. Is that not enough for one day?”

My body twists toward his and I drag my thumb along his lip, then grip his chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Is that really how you want to spend the first night in our new house?”

I lean in closer, smiling and flicking my tongue across his bottom lip before gently nipping at. “Sorting through our knickknacks?”

[latermaybe]

"Maybe I'm looking forward to unpacking knickknacks with you," I murmured against his lips, one hand slipping into his hair and tugging gently. "Making this house ours."

Nesting, they called it, but that implied an urgent arrival of children, and neither of us were quite there yet.

[speakordie]

“I can think of a few ways to make this place ours,” I reply, feeling my breath hitch when he pulls at my hair. It sends sparks of arousal shooting through me and I kiss him again, sliding one hand up under his shirt.

“But if you don’t want to have sex with me, I guess that’s your choice,” I say with an easy shrug, chuckling and pulling my hand back to pat his thigh before standing up. “Putting old books on shelves sounds more fun, I suppose.”

My voice stays in a low, teasing drawl and I let out a put upon sigh as I pick up a stack of my old notebooks. “Not exactly what a husband wants to hear, though.”