Nonplatonic
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Summary
How did he know that, if he wasn’t sure of his own name? It was like riding a bike, he supposed. There were things you could never forget, engraved in your muscles—your heart—forever. Such as instinct. Impressions. Feelings.
Stan Pines doesn’t remember much. Scratch that, he doesn’t remember anything. He knows that he has a husband, and that his husband loves him—loves him enough to sail away with him in an adventure of a lifetime, to bear the fact Stan’s mind isn’t ever going to recover all the history between them, to protect their domestic bliss with tooth and nail and a strange but fancy-looking gun.
As his memory slowly returns, against all probabilities, he is ecstatic. Or would be, truth be told, if his loving husband didn’t look so grim.