Are you looking to be somebody's It's Complicated? With this fiery hearthrob, everything's complicated! But it's worth it: underneath that gruff exterior and painful awkwardness, he's a sweet guy with some killer thighs. Give him a chance to sweep you off your feet. Every other person in his friend group has! Third time's the charm, right?
[ Mako kisses him again, slow and sweet, and pulls back before it gets intense, because Wu is sick and this is not about that. This is about Wu, being nervous about the grounds of their relationship and Mako doing a bad job telling Wu how he feels.
Apparently. Wu's still watching him, hazy-eyed and soft, looking a little rueful, and all Mako can do is tug him into a one-armed hug, pushing his face into Wu's hair as nerves flutter in his belly. ]
And I know— [ his words are breath, pressed quietly into the top of Wu's head ] —you're sick, and you're probably overthinking things, but. I love you, Wu.
He lets them wash over him, sinking into his skin, his bones, his heart. It's what he never dared ask for, what he desperately wanted, what he thought might be impossible. He's had hope, he's had a lot of hope, this last month. Dating Mako has been a dream, if you ignore the part where Mako turned into someone else, or the part where Wu forgot who Mako was, or the part where Wu died. But aside from that, from the things that Deerington does to them, it's been almost everything Wu wanted.
This completes it. Mako loving him, being in love with him. That's as close to perfect as Wu can get. Yes, Mako hinted at it, told him other sweet things, but Wu's mind won't settle, won't believe it until he's told straight out. Not about something this important.
He takes a shaky breath, his fingers slipping over Mako's throat, under his collar, holding him close.
He tries to speak, but only a small sound comes out. He doesn't want to cry again. He doesn't want Mako to think that he's anything but happy, anything but in love with him. That's really the problem: Wu is desperately, pathetically in love with him. If Mako didn't love him back, he's not sure what he would do with himself (the same thing he's always done: pretend. Put on a front, smile through it. But he doesn't want to do that, not now that he's experienced something like love).
Another shaky breath and he presses closer, his arm in a sling pressed between them. ]
The thought is a half-formed thing, flitting through Mako's mind. He remembers very well what it was like to be trapped in bed with a useless arm and his own thoughts, remembers how useless he'd felt. His own identity had started to bleed at the edges: Mako doesn't know who he is unless he's doing something, and Pema had basically forbidden him from getting up or moving at all.
Now it's Wu who is trapped here, his arm pinned to his chest, probably chased by awful memories and worry and uncertainty. So much feeling is woven through those two quiet words. Mako's heart clenches with it, thuds into his ribs and sticks there, beating quietly.
Mako lets him press in close, pulls him in closer like that will ward off everything else, until it's just him and Wu and the soft bed underneath them, and the quiet sound of Wu's breathing, the soft occasional of the curtains in the breeze. ]
I do.
[ The words are soft, just for them: quiet things that Mako means with all of him. ]
The week without you here was the worst week of my life, Wu. I was so worried.
[ A small noise presses against Wu's lips, and he shifts closer, his face nestling in the crook of Mako's neck. He doesn't want Mako to be sad, to be worried, but knowing that he could be that sad or worried because of Wu means that Wu matters, that he's something to Mako that isn't just a King or a charge.
He shakes a little, and after a moment he decides not to hold it in. Mako loves him. Mako loves him, Mako worries about him, Mako is right here, taking care of him. Mako wants him to be happy, and Wu wants nothing more than Mako to be happy and safe and his. ]
I don't want to leave you again. I won't. If I can help it.
[ Wu is shaking in his arms. Mako frowns hard against his head, pulls him closer until they're a tangle of limbs, a little sweaty and too-warm, and Wu's arm is probably a little jammed against Mako. He shifts enough to free it and pushes a fierce kiss against the side of his head. ]
[ Wu closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss. Very small, soft between them, he murmurs: ]
I love you.
[ It's still scary to say. It's scary to love someone, but Mako loves him, Mako is holding him, Mako will protect him as long as he's able.
He presses closer, if that's possible, uncaring of how squished together they are. He can't get close enough. He feels desperate for it, desperate to be close to Mako, to press against him, to feel him ]
[ It's so easy to say, so natural to press those four small words into the side of Wu's face and throw a thigh over one of his legs until they really are a tangled mess, until the lines between them are blurred and something in Mako's body unlocks because he isn't alone anymore, because Wu is here and alive and loves him. ]
no subject
[ Mako kisses him again, slow and sweet, and pulls back before it gets intense, because Wu is sick and this is not about that. This is about Wu, being nervous about the grounds of their relationship and Mako doing a bad job telling Wu how he feels.
Apparently. Wu's still watching him, hazy-eyed and soft, looking a little rueful, and all Mako can do is tug him into a one-armed hug, pushing his face into Wu's hair as nerves flutter in his belly. ]
And I know— [ his words are breath, pressed quietly into the top of Wu's head ] —you're sick, and you're probably overthinking things, but. I love you, Wu.
no subject
He lets them wash over him, sinking into his skin, his bones, his heart. It's what he never dared ask for, what he desperately wanted, what he thought might be impossible. He's had hope, he's had a lot of hope, this last month. Dating Mako has been a dream, if you ignore the part where Mako turned into someone else, or the part where Wu forgot who Mako was, or the part where Wu died. But aside from that, from the things that Deerington does to them, it's been almost everything Wu wanted.
This completes it. Mako loving him, being in love with him. That's as close to perfect as Wu can get. Yes, Mako hinted at it, told him other sweet things, but Wu's mind won't settle, won't believe it until he's told straight out. Not about something this important.
He takes a shaky breath, his fingers slipping over Mako's throat, under his collar, holding him close.
He tries to speak, but only a small sound comes out. He doesn't want to cry again. He doesn't want Mako to think that he's anything but happy, anything but in love with him. That's really the problem: Wu is desperately, pathetically in love with him. If Mako didn't love him back, he's not sure what he would do with himself (the same thing he's always done: pretend. Put on a front, smile through it. But he doesn't want to do that, not now that he's experienced something like love).
Another shaky breath and he presses closer, his arm in a sling pressed between them. ]
You do?
no subject
The thought is a half-formed thing, flitting through Mako's mind. He remembers very well what it was like to be trapped in bed with a useless arm and his own thoughts, remembers how useless he'd felt. His own identity had started to bleed at the edges: Mako doesn't know who he is unless he's doing something, and Pema had basically forbidden him from getting up or moving at all.
Now it's Wu who is trapped here, his arm pinned to his chest, probably chased by awful memories and worry and uncertainty. So much feeling is woven through those two quiet words. Mako's heart clenches with it, thuds into his ribs and sticks there, beating quietly.
Mako lets him press in close, pulls him in closer like that will ward off everything else, until it's just him and Wu and the soft bed underneath them, and the quiet sound of Wu's breathing, the soft occasional of the curtains in the breeze. ]
I do.
[ The words are soft, just for them: quiet things that Mako means with all of him. ]
The week without you here was the worst week of my life, Wu. I was so worried.
no subject
He shakes a little, and after a moment he decides not to hold it in. Mako loves him. Mako loves him, Mako worries about him, Mako is right here, taking care of him. Mako wants him to be happy, and Wu wants nothing more than Mako to be happy and safe and his. ]
I don't want to leave you again. I won't. If I can help it.
no subject
[ Wu is shaking in his arms. Mako frowns hard against his head, pulls him closer until they're a tangle of limbs, a little sweaty and too-warm, and Wu's arm is probably a little jammed against Mako. He shifts enough to free it and pushes a fierce kiss against the side of his head. ]
no subject
I love you.
[ It's still scary to say. It's scary to love someone, but Mako loves him, Mako is holding him, Mako will protect him as long as he's able.
He presses closer, if that's possible, uncaring of how squished together they are. He can't get close enough. He feels desperate for it, desperate to be close to Mako, to press against him, to feel him ]
I really, really love you.
no subject
[ It's so easy to say, so natural to press those four small words into the side of Wu's face and throw a thigh over one of his legs until they really are a tangled mess, until the lines between them are blurred and something in Mako's body unlocks because he isn't alone anymore, because Wu is here and alive and loves him. ]