After me comes the flood: icemanmorgan: Morgan could hardly contain his excitement. He could...

icemanmorgan:

It is quite hard to tell the state Julian was in everytime Morgan would start shifting and giving him this pleading look. The obvious pain and fear in his eyes would leave the older man brokenhearted, which at the same time gave him the needed strenght to to overwhelm his lover with comforting messages, an embrace strong and tight enough to keep him from rushing to the bathroom and the exact level of empathy that could get him as worried and panicked as his snowflake was. He could have frozen everyone in the restaurant in time or something equally useless, but he just stood up from his chair, leaning in, brows furrowed, ready to protect Morgan from whatever menace threatening him. Yet, before he could manage to get to him, the teenager just burped, then blushing sheepishly. Julian sighed and sat back on his chair, shaking his head slowly with a slight smirk. “You got me terribly worried here, snowflake.” He smiled and hummed in satisfaction as Morgan kissed him softly. He was the cutest when he acted like that, like a grown-up. He truly was his Peter Pan.

Julian rose from his chair once and for all, then grabbing Morgan’s hand in his. They were cold against his own warmth, thus he could be sure he was real. It did feel like a dream sometimes, the way everything would fall into place, and he had to find something tangible to cling to or he would lose his notion of time and space. No landscapes, no buildings, no sound, no one but Morgan and him and the little sparkles or butterflies between them. Yes, it sounded like a plan. “Would you mind leading me, then? You know the place better than me, afterall.” he said with a fond smile.

Feeling Julian’s warm hand circling his own small, cold hand was settling. Morgan smiled, squeezing his lover’s hand gently, calming instantly, the blush rising happily and quickly into his cheeks. He probably looked like a tomato in a brown wig, but his appearance didn’t matter to him right now. He didn’t care if he weighed a million pounds, he was holding hands with the loveliest man on the entire planet, and he was going to lose his virginity to him tonight. Nothing could spoil this for Morgan. They were in his city, and he had no ex-lovers to foul up the evening, to run up screaming, pulling them apart dramatically like a concentration camp pulls apart families.

He squeezed Julian’s hand again, leading him out of the restaurant, “There’s a nice park over here I’ve always enjoyed…” he looked to the skate ramp off to the side, decorated with graffiti and slick with ice. “I wish I had my skateboard. I could show you some tricks, maybe teach you something..” He blushed then, slightly, sorry. He sounded like a child, and Julian’s other lovers…

No. He wasn’t going to ruin the most magical night of his life with insecurity. Not this time. He’d not been able to lose himself in France, but in his home country? On a night like this? Morgan exhaled a plume of mist into the air, noticing Julian’s slightly reddened cheeks.

“Are you cold, mon cynge?” he chuckled, swirling one of his fingers in the air, the warmth pooling in his stomach again at the sight of a light fluffy snow falling into Julian’s dark hair. “You look lovely tonight…” he could feel his eyes shining. He was so very much in love, he had to show it. He shook snow out of his eyes, smiling, praying Julian was enjoying the snow as much as he was.