mitsubishievo | This one goes out to all the dreamers at sea [Jan 1]

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This one goes out to all the dreamers at sea [Jan 1]

Kavinsky dreamt.

In Darrow, he no longer dreamt of the dream place. It was here, he could feel it, but it was no longer the place of his dreams, the place that he could pull things from. More often than not, in these past months, when he dreamt, he found himself in his study apartment, surrounded by warmth and a knowing and a comfort. It meant that, in reality, the studio was full of quiet, fantastically perfect things. It was how he wanted it, and so it was.

Kavinsky dreamt.

Over months, things had shifted and figured themselves out. Things were settling. The house was still quiet, just the two of them and now the cats, growing up quickly into gangly little teenagers with too much energy. Gally was still an ugly thing, and his sister was only a little bit better. They were good for him and Newt. The house felt like a home again, slowly, slowly. Once winter left for spring and they could liven up the garden again, it would be that much more again.

Kavinsky dreamt.

A year ago, he had come home to Newt's apartment. He did not dream of that. Ten months ago, they had bought this house. Six months ago, they had celebrated Newt's birthday. He dreamt of this house, this home, of Newt. Of Newt. Of Newt Kavinsky.

In the dream, in the dream studio, there was a box. Dark blue and velvety. Kavinsky knew what it was. He picked it up and looked inside and smiled a little bit. He put the contents to memory. He put the box to memory. He made it real.

Kavinsky woke. There, in his hand, was the box. There, beside him in their huge bed, was Newt. He slid close and wrapped his arms around him, kissed the back of his neck gently.

"Happy New Year, sugar," he whispered.

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Newt makes a soft sound and shifts closer, though he resists opening his eyes. He squirms back against Kavinsky, moulding himself to fit into the curve of his boyfriend's body. He feels muzzy, still heavy with drink.

"M not up yet," he says, stifling a yawn. "Am I?"

"Don't gotta be yet." It was still pretty early, probably seven or so. Especially early when they'd stumbled in at some unholy hour, drunk and merry and glad to have each other. He leaned over Newt, kissed his ear, and set the box on Newt's bedside table next to the glass of water he kept there now instead of a bottle. "Love you, sugar. So much."

It takes Newt a moment to wake up enough to register what just happened. He cracks one eyelid and looks at the box.

"What's that?"

They laid there a while, quietly breathing, until Newt sort of roused a little more. Kavinsky's heart was thumping in his chest. Now, he was nervous. Now, he was worried. He held around Newt a little tighter for a moment, and then smoothed his hand over his ribs.

"Go on and see. It's a good surprise?"

Newt reaches out and opens the box. He stares at the contents for a moment.

"Oh, Joe."

"I was thinking," Kavinsky said softly, nose pressed against Newt's neck, "we should get married. I feel like--yeah. I think we should get married. I wanna marry you."

Newt's chest feels so painful for a moment, his heart a fluttering, winged thing.

"Let's do it."

Kavinsky smiled and kissed Newt's neck gently, then reached for the little ring case. "Can I put it on, sugar? I wanna make sure--it should adjust fit for you automatically. So it'll always fit. But I wanna make sure."

Newt nods, rolling on to his back and holding his hand up, the left one, his fingers slightly splayed.

"It's really shucking beautiful, love."

Kavinsky took the box, slipped the ring out. He slid it on and smiled, admiring the burnished-silver color and the stamp of his thumbprint on it. Slowly, he ran his fingers over Newt's, lacing them together, holding him gently.

"I really want this," he whispered. "I...I want you to really be Newt Kavinsky. God, I love you, sugar."

Newt finds himself staring at the ring on his finger, the thumbprint, how it catches the light. He brushes it with the pad of his thumb on his other hand. It feels like an impossibility.

"I love you too," he says. "I can't...Really? Married?"
It seems so ridiculously shucking far from where they started.

Kavinsky watched Newt touch the ring, look at it like that, and he smiled a little bit, kissing at his shoulder gently, up to his ear, sighing against his skin every step of the way.

"If you're up for it," Kavinsky said. "I just...it seems right? It feels right." He was quiet a moment, wrapping around Newt casually. "I know we're young and stupid, sugar, but--Goddamn, this feels right."

"I didn't say yes, yet, did I?" says Newt because, honestly, he can't remember if he did or not. he'd been too distracted by the ring on his finger, and the way it caught the light. "Yeah. It feels really shucking right."

"You didn't," Kavinsky said, but didn't press more than that. It was alright to not have said it--the look on Newt's face was enough. It was everything. As had been for months, for over a year, Kavinsky thought he would dream the moon for this boy. Instead, he'd dreamt him a promise and a ring that fit him perfectly.

He pressed his nose against Newt's throat and sighed. "I love you, Newt. So much. That's not gonna change."

"Of course I'll shucking marry you," says Newt, tilting his head to drop a kiss into Kavinsky's thick, dark hair. "Do you have a ring, too? I mean, I know I already shucking bought you a ring, but..."

"Not yet," Kavinsky said, tilting his head to catch Newt's kiss on the lips. When he pulled back, he smiled, and cupped Newt's cheek. "It's gonna match, though. It's gonna--it'll have your thumb print on the band, like yours has mine. And that way, no matter what, we're always right with each other."

Saying it out loud made it sound more whimsical and foolish than it had sounded in his head. Kavinsky kissed Newt again, slow and soft.

"I like that," says Newt, immediately, not even caring how corny it sounds. "I...I try really hard not to hate it when you're somewhere else. This...is going to help. Really."

The confession ached through Kavinsky's lungs for a moment. He knew it must hurt, knew that he shouldn't ought to feel as much as he did. Newt was more than enough, he was everything.

He threaded his fingers with Newt's and squeezed. He'd try to be better. It was a new year, and Newt deserved so much more than Kavinsky knew how to give.

"I didn't mean that as a criticism," says Newt, softly, his voice suddenly feeling raw in the back of his throat when Kavinsky squeezed his hand like that. "I don't...I love you so bloody much, Joe. No matter what that means."

No matter who else that includes.

"It means everything, sugar," Kavinsky breathed. He leaned up and hovered over Newt a moment, looking over his face, leaning down to kiss him softly with their hands caught between their chests. "You mean everything. God, I just--I don't know what good things I've done to deserve you."

"I just can't believe we're here," says Newt softly, combing the fingers of his free hand through Kavinsky's dark hair. "I can't believe we've made it this far."

"You're gonna be stuck with me," Kavinsky said, smiling lazily, nuzzling at Newt's jaw. He breathed a laugh. "We've come a long way, sugar. I'd change some shit I did, but--wouldn't change a thing with this. With us."

Newt was stuck with him anyway, in every way that matters; a ring doesn't do anything to change that. He shakes his head, pressing a kiss against Kavinsky's mouth.

"You're...the love of my shucking life, Joe."

"Mine too, baby," Kavinsky said, and it felt so honest and true and real in that moment that he could barely contain it. He breathed out a laugh, cupping Newt's cheeks, beaming. "We're gonna get married. Holy shit."

Newt laughs, a little hiccup of sound.

"We actually shucking are," he says, looking up into Kavinsky's face. "How long do you want to wait?"

Kavinsky leaned down and kissed Newt gently. He had thought about that part, obviously, but now they'd have to figure out the practical logistics of it.

"Not that long," he murmured, smile softening without dimming at all. "But I wanna wait to do the reception in spring? When the garden's starting to bloom. We'll have a party and it'll be...it'll be real nice."

"Oh, yeah," says Newt, smiling. "That would be really bloody romantic - with all the roses blooming." He sighs and brushes his nose against the point of Kavinsky's chin. "What about your other boys?"

The question skips in Kavinsky's chest a little bit. "I told 'em both it might be on the docket, sooner than later. But it's--I dunno. Guess we'll figure it out." Then, Kavinsky shook his head a little bit. "Doesn't matter, though. I'd rather put that ring on your finger and sign some papers with you."

Newt would never ask him to stop, never ask him to give up Jack and Peter up. But a smile spreads across his face anyway.

"I love you so shucking much."

"I love you too, sugar," Kavinsky said, all smile, all awe and wonder. A much better new years day than last year, by leaps and bounds and orders of magnitude. He cupped Newt's cheek, smoothed a hand over his hair, couldn't stop smiling. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." He lifts his hand so that he can look at the ring that Kavinsky slipped onto his finger. "Guess I'm going to be Newt Kavinsky for shucking real, right?"

"Yeah you are," Kavinsky said with a lazy, but excited, grin.

From the other room, he could hear the kittens starting to meow. He groaned a little bit, pressing his face into Newt's throat. "We can't ever have real children. Kittens are bad enough."

"Let's cross each bloody bridge when we come to it," says Newt, rolling his eyes a little and pushing his fingers into Kavinsky's hair, cradling the back of his head. "Okay?"

"That was a hundred percent not meant to have you thinking about any sort of babies, please, I already raised one." Kavinsky was all smiles, though, with this gentle teasing. With Newt remembering his family now, Kavinsky had been careful about not talking about his family too much; he didn't want to upset him with those fresh, raw memories.

He kissed Newt, then sat up. "C'mon, Newt Kavinsky. We have kittens to check on."

"What? You don't want to have babies with me? I'm not shucking good enough for that?" teases Newt, leaning up into the kiss and then swings his legs out of bed, reaching for pajamas. "And why do we both have to check on the kittens?"

Kavinsky grinned against the kiss as he hauled himself out of bed. He found them each pajama pants, tossing Newt's at him playfully. Everything felt bright and jubilant in that moment. He didn't think he could ever be happier than this moment.

"Because they love you, and you still need to decide if we're gonna keep one besides Gally," Kavinsky pointed out.

Newt pulls on his pyjamas and then spends another moment rummaging around for a t- shirt that he tugs over his head. He gets distracted by the ring on his finger for a moment.

"I've told you. There's a couple who I can't shucking choose between."

"I know," Kavinsky said. He didn't bother with a shirt, just let his pajamas hang low on his hips. He wrapped himself around Newt and kissed his neck, up to his ear, and sighed happily. He couldn't get enough of this moment, and the next, and the next.

"We can figure out keeping more than just two," he said, shrugging. "Could be nice. I just, ya know, don't wanna be those weird cat dudes with ten cats."

"Definitely not ten," says Newt, shaking his head and squeezing his fingers around Kavinsky's wrist for a moment before he lets him go. "Three, though?"

"We could probably manage three," Kavinsky supposed. He smiled a little, kissing the side of Newt's neck before heading down the hall to their little kitten nursery in Newt's office. The kittens were noisy, growing fast but still sort of at that bumper-car stage where they couldn't figure out all their limbs.

They swarmed toward the door as Kavinsky stepped in, a few of them instantly climbing up his leg.

"Shucking hell," says Newt, fondly, watching as the kittens attack Kavinsky. He looks almost heartbreakingly bloody beautiful standing there, bare-chested. Newt can't believe he's this lucky. He can't believe that this is his second chance. "Look at all of you. Looks like those two little shuckfaces are choosing us, shank."

Kavinsky grinned, walking carefully with kittens clinging to him. He scooped up Gally, the mouthy little one with the dumb face, and supported him onto his shoulders. Gally rode without digging his claws in too much. Kavinsky smiled at Newt, covered in kittens. "It's totally a good look, right?"

"Bloody beautiful," says Newt, picking up one of the kittens and cradling her against his chest, scratching between her ears. "Do we have names for the rest of them yet?"

"I'm trying not to name anybody that I wasn't thinking we'd keep, you know?" Kavinsky smiled adoringly at Newt holding the kitten to his chest. Everything in that moment felt homey and true and more wonderful than he'd ever thought he'd be able to experience. Maybe they were young, but all of this felt so right.

"Blue's got dibs on the little white one," Kavinsky said, pointing out the wobbly little kitten with the bright eyes and frizzy white fur. "And I've already decided on foisting the gray tabby on Wanda," he continued, pointing out a noisy kitten that was all gray stripes and swirls. "Other than that, you and me've got Gally, and whoever else we settle on, and then we can try and home the rest."

"What about this one?" asks Newt, bending to pick up a kitten who's slightly fluffier than the rest, all brown and grey and white mixed together. "This little girl?"

"She beautiful," Kavinsky said. He took down the kitten chow from the bookshelf where the kittens couldn't really get to it--they'd all graduated out of bottle feeding, except for the two smallest who were about half and half--and a couple cans of wet food, and started to distribute in their little bowls. The kittens on his pants shot off for the food, but Gally continued to roost on his shoulders.

"Her, and Gally, and there was another one you liked?"

"The little one who's all black," says Newt, his heart full to nearly bursting with how bloody cute they are. "I think they're ours."

Kavinsky nodded. He hooked his arm around Newt and kissed his cheek. A year ago, this wouldn't have been possible. Not with the way that Kavinsky was acting. But now--now, here it was. And he'd never felt more right.

"What a nerdy little hipster family we are," he said, all smiles.

"Shucking hell, a family," says Newt, his cheeks flushing pink.

He likes the sound of that.

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This one goes out to all the dreamers at sea [Jan 1]

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