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“Whatever are you doing, my love?”
Cálei’s ears shoot up. He makes an attempt at covering the tower with his hands, but it’s far too late, and the replica far too large to obscure. “When did you get home?”
“Just now. I figured you were down here working.” G’raha winds his arms around Cálei’s shoulders and presses a kiss to an upturned ear. “You’re carving Syrcus Tower? Whatever for?”
“Ah, well—” Cálei’s ears twitch as G’raha sets his head atop his. Leave it to his beloved to welcome himself home by way of draping all over him. Not that Cálei would ever begrudge him the need for touch. Not ever.
“It’s for the house,” Cálei admits. Though that itself necessitates some clarity, as there’s hardly any room here in the free company for something as large as a replica of Syrcus Tower. Their estate, freshly purchased just up the street, barely has flooring. “Our house. For you.”
G’raha barks out a laugh. “Me? Whatever for?”
“I thought you’d like it,” Cálei mumbles, face heating. He laughed. He doesn’t want it. Gods, Cálei knew this was stupid, he never should have made it, it’s pointless, G’raha won’t want it, he’ll be upset, he’ll—
“Cálei— Cálei.” G’raha cuts through his spiraling thoughts as he cups Cálei’s chin, tipping his face up towards his, grounding him. “Look at me, my love.”
Cálei does, but only because he knows he can’t hide anything from G’raha. Even so, the apology comes out before he can help himself. “Sorry.”
G’raha raises an eyebrow, waiting. Cálei exhales. Closes his eyes, counts his breath. One, two. In, out. Three, four. In, out.
At ten he looks up at his beloved once more, still guilty but no longer on the verge of panic. G’raha’s bangs fall in his face, brushing against his skin like feathers. “You okay?”
“Mm.” Bites back another apology. Manages a tiny smile. “Hi. Welcome home.”
G’raha laughs again, soft and affectionate. He pulls Cálei’s chair back, as if to let him up from the workbench, but before Cálei can move G’raha has deposited himself in his lap. Arms slide up around Cálei’s neck as G’raha pulls him in for a kiss, slow and sweet and gentle as dew.
Cálei would much prefer to stay like this all afternoon, even if it runs the risk of interruption from the rest of the free company, but of course G’raha won’t hear of it. Before long he withdraws just enough to settle in Cálei’s lap properly, arms loose around Cálei’s shoulders to steady himself.
“So.”
“So.” Cálei’s ears fold down. “So much for surprising you.”
G’raha glances over his shoulder at the replica of Syrcus Tower on the workbench. Even half-finished, it stands as tall as a Lalafell. “I hate to admit this, my love, but I am not sure that was ever in the cards.” There’s amusement in his voice, but it’s softened by wonder. “I would ask if you had done this all yourself, but I know I need not wonder at your prowess with such things. I’ve simply never seen them applied to this particular structure. And you said it was for me?”
“Something like that.” Cálei doesn’t think it’s that impressive, himself, but that’s because Syrcus Tower is godsdamned difficult to craft. He really isn’t supposed to be using material from the structure itself, but nothing else has the same texture, much less its ethereal glow. Plus he wants to animate a couple of crystals to float around the base... though there’s no way he’s going to track down more aethersand, no matter how much he loves G’raha.
Cálei lets out a sigh and leans back in the chair. There’s no sense hiding it; G’raha will find out sooner or later. He’d never made a secret of this.
“I’ve been trying to make it for a long time. Years. But I could never get it right.” He snorts and gestures at the half-constructed tower. “Maybe I didn’t want to. In the beginning I just wanted something to carry with me, so that I’d always have you near me. Later... later, it felt like saying goodbye. Like a memorial.”
G’raha’s ears droop, but he doesn’t interrupt. Cálei offers him a halfhearted smile. “It’s not one anymore, of course. Probably why I’ve been able to make progress. I just... wanted to make something to remind us both how far we’ve come. And I wanted you to have a little reminder of the First.”
G’raha stares at him, and for a moment Cálei cannot read him at all. “But, I mean,” he adds hastily, “if you’re sick of looking at it, I could always make something else, like— I don’t know, a—”
G’raha cuts off whatever inane suggestion he was going to make with a kiss, far more passionate than the soothing touch he’d offered earlier. “You foolish, perfect man,” G’raha breathes against him. “To think the gods have blessed me with you, you—” He muffles a happy laugh against Cálei’s mouth as he pulls him in for a hug. “You wonderful fool.”
This, at least, is familiar. “Your fool,” Cálei replies, fondly. “Yours always, Raha.”
G’raha kisses him again, warm and fond and unbearably sweet, and Cálei’s fears ease. Once again, his anxiety had been baseless, but G’raha loves him no less for his weakness. If anything, the light in his beloved’s eyes says quite the opposite.
“I would love to put it in our new home,” G’raha says, beaming. “On two conditions.”
Cálei raises an eyebrow. There’s too much mischief in G’raha’s voice for his anxiety to spike again, but his curiosity is piqued. “What?”
“One, allow me to select its placement. I promise it will not interfere with whatever grand designs you have for our home.”
“Considering how much I’ve taken over the decorating? That’s the least I can do, Raha.” Cálei eyes him. “But what’s the other thing?”
“Do not take this the wrong way, my love, but—” G’raha glances back at the replica again. “You know I have nothing but respect for your craftsmanship—“
Cálei sighs. “Go on, say it.”
“It’s... lopsided. Or leaning? It’s rather difficult to tell.”
“And now you know the other reason I never finished it,” Cálei grumbles. “Well, Mr. Allagan Prince? Go on.”
G’raha ignores the barb and closes his eyes. He does no more than send a flicker of aether into the replica, but it’s enough. The crystal shard at its heart suffuses with light and grows, shifting into a perfect recreation of Syrcus Tower in a matter of moments.
“Show-off.” Cálei brushes G’raha's bangs back from his face, affectionately. “I had to do it the hard way, you know.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt of that, my love.” G’raha grins at him, impish delight gleaming in his eyes, and rises from the seat he’s made of Cálei’s lap. “Perhaps it would interest you to know that my errand proved successful.”
Cálei’s ears perk up. G’raha had been arranging for a bed to be delivered to their new house. Cálei does have a room here, of course, but to call it private is hardly accurate. “You mean—?”
“I do mean.” G’raha’s tail swishes behind him as he offers Cálei a hand up. “So, my love... why don’t I show you where I’d like to place my tower?”
Cálei doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter.