Jamie's heart jumps and he takes a steadying breath. It's agony to wait until Cullen's done for the day, but around then, Jamie heads to his house. He tries not to drag his feet too much, but he figures he could at least give Cullen time to clean up or settle in or whatever it is he needs to do.
Eventually, he's knocking at the door. The other hand cradles something close to his chest, protecting it.
After getting home, Cullen showers and dresses in something simple, cream pants and a blue button down rolled at the sleeves with brown oxfords. He's in the kitchen getting into the wine when the knock comes at the door. He calms Blade's barking with, "I'm expecting someone. Go play on the beach for a little while, would you? We'll probably need a little space."
The dog lets himself out the back door, forgetting to shut it, and tears off over the sand. After shutting the door, Cullen walks to the front to answer. "Come in," he says, stepping back to gesture. "I just opened a bottle of Chardonnay. Would you care for some?" He's a bit tense. It's visible in the set of his eyes, but he's determined to be gracious.
He'd like an entire bottle of Chardonnay, but he'll start with a glass. Jamie slips inside, still cradling Cullen's heart - or rather, the shape it took - in his hand. His heart is pounding and it's less about giving the heart back and more about how Cullen will feel once he has it.
He follows Cullen into the kitchen.
"I really should give this back to you before we do anything," he says. Maybe Cullen won't want him to stay.
He already has a second glass down in anticipation, pouring a generous serving and turning to offer it to him. He tips his head in curiosity at that, pausing mid-extension.
"All right." He's not completely sure why this moment is as charged as it is, why he has fingers of dread hooking into his belly. He steels himself for whatever is coming.
Jamie wets his lips and moves closer. Without another word, he presses Cullen's heart to his chest, covering it with his palm. There's a faint, red glow and then it's gone, simple as that. For Cullen, it might feel like receiving something he hadn't even realized he'd been missing. A fullness that wasn't there before.
He bites his lip and steps back, then takes the glass from Cullen. He doesn't drink, just holds it, watching Cullen uncertainly.
"I'm sorry I did what I did, Cullen. I--I don't know if I really have an excuse. I could say it was the sickness that was going around, but it was still my choice to do it. I could've done something less damaging... like stalking or something."
He tries a small smile and makes himself stop talking when he realizes that he's rambling.
He stands there for a moment, brow furrowed. Yes, something was missing. He can see it now, in hindsight, feel the difference. His obsessiveness over Jamie makes sense now, too, that time spent with him and Fenris in desperate attempts to warm him, to please him.
He'd be lying if he said it doesn't hurt that he did such a thing, but at the same time, he had been warned of this. It didn't come out of the blue. It came during winter, and not just winter, but a time of bitter, bitter cold.
He sets his wine glass aside and steps forward, reaching to take his free hand. "I won't say it's OK. It hurt, and I...I hate being manipulated." He forces himself to meet his gaze.
"But." His squeeze of his hand is gentle. "You told me what you are and what you do. You told me that day in the lobby, and I told you I accepted you. That hasn't changed. It won't change. Because you're also someone who came here and made it right, the same someone who gave me flowers, who forgave me my misstep when I wasn't fully myself."
Jamie looks up when Cullen takes his hand. He holds much tighter than he means to; he knows Cullen will be hurt, how could he not be? What he'd done--
But what Cullen says shows far more mercy than Jamie was expecting. He doesn't know why. Maybe because he thinks his crimes are greater than that, or because the crime itself is so against Cullen's sensibilities.
"That wasn't me," he murmurs as he lowers his gaze again. "I mean, it was, but I've never done that before. That--that's what Sam was doing to people. What he wanted to do to me."
Which just makes it more horrific to him that he'd done it at all. He didn't want to turn into Sam. Jamie hates the hot tears he feels in his eyes, the few that slide down his cheek. They don't freeze.
He keeps hold of his hand, stroking the back of it with a callused thumb, new calluses in different places since he has been working construction. "This place does things to us. We both know it. I would never hold something like that against you. I hope you know that."
He's trying to catch his gaze. For the latter statement, he reaches to tip his chin up and brushes away a couple of the tears with a stroke of the side of his index finger.
"May I hold you?" Sometimes a gesture can say more than words.
Another round of tears makes his eyes sting as Cullen wipes them away and Jamie manages not to sniffle, but he absolutely sinks into Cullen's arms. He presses his face against his shoulder and his fingers curl in Cullen's shirt.
"Please," he says belatedly, voice wet. "The tighter the better, this is absolutely embarrassing."
He gathers him in tightly, a broad hand settling at the back of his head. "I understand. It mortifies me when it happens to me." It will, however, pass, and he's more than content to hold him through it.
Jamie stays there for a long time, tucked in Cullen's arms and waiting for his mind to quiet. When it does, he stays a moment longer.
"Thank you, Cullen," he murmurs. He almost says something else, something he swallows back because it's silly and likely unrequited. So instead he just nuzzles close and brushes a more or less chaste kiss to Cullen's chest.
"I think I'm alright. Didn't mean to make this about me."
Jamie closes his eyes as Cullen kisses his cheek. He doesn't answer until he opens them again.
"I have," he assures. "The tears were--they were a mark of the Duchy. The title that I seem to have taken for the duration of... whatever that was. The Duchy of the Icebound Heart."
He shivers just thinking of them, because he can never mention their cadre without thinking of Sam.
"Is that why we couldn't warm you?" It sounds decidedly unpleasant. As frustrating as it had been for him at times during the duration, he imagines it was much worse for Jamie.
"Or...or make you happy?" That hadn't frustrated but rather saddened him at the time. There were moments of cruelty when he seemed happy. He's fairly sure those weren't real happiness.
"I think so. It might've been the sickness, too." Jamie stays where he is as he talks, head resting against Cullen's shoulder. "The Duchy manipulates people... what I did was some weird combination of their propensity for stealing hearts and my own--I don't know. My own desperate desire for love."
He shrugs, embarrassed to say it. But Cullen at least deserves his honesty after what Jamie put him through.
He lifts his hand to sift gently through his hair. Yes, it makes sense when he puts it that way. It's odd to him, that despite all initial indications to the contrary, he has become very fond of him. He helped him through that awful realignment session with the condescending guard. Hopefully, he can help him in turn with this.
"I hope you realize I care about you a great deal," he says eventually. "You don't have to...to do anything to take it. It's already yours."
Jamie buries his face against Cullen's chest like he might smother himself there. It's funny to think that months ago this conversation might have seemed impossible. Such a rocky start for such a soft landing now. Jamie doesn't know what to do with the sentiment, almost afraid of it. What does Cullen mean by it? They're dear friends, certainly, but--
He pushes it out of his mind. He shouldn't wonder, just accept the sweetness offered, regardless of measure or intensity.
Especially after seeing who he'd been, he has a soft spot for him that is persistent and unlikely to go anywhere regardless of what happens, barring persistent abuse. He continues to stroke his hair for a little bit and bends to press a kiss to the top of his head.
"Spring is on the way. Here-ish. I know you must be excited. Do you have any grand plans?" He'd very much like to see him in his element.
"I should throw a party," he says after a moment, once he's gotten his voice a bit more under control. "We had them all through the season, but always something big revel for the equinox, which is when power changes hands, and then something else for Beltane. Everyone wanted invites to the Spring Revels, the Court really goes all out."
He misses it dearly by the sound of things. He sighs and rests his head on Cullen's shoulder.
"I'll have to see if Dorian will help me arrange something big. It'll be strange organizing a revel by myself."
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Jamie's heart jumps and he takes a steadying breath. It's agony to wait until Cullen's done for the day, but around then, Jamie heads to his house. He tries not to drag his feet too much, but he figures he could at least give Cullen time to clean up or settle in or whatever it is he needs to do.
Eventually, he's knocking at the door. The other hand cradles something close to his chest, protecting it.
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The dog lets himself out the back door, forgetting to shut it, and tears off over the sand. After shutting the door, Cullen walks to the front to answer. "Come in," he says, stepping back to gesture. "I just opened a bottle of Chardonnay. Would you care for some?" He's a bit tense. It's visible in the set of his eyes, but he's determined to be gracious.
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He'd like an entire bottle of Chardonnay, but he'll start with a glass. Jamie slips inside, still cradling Cullen's heart - or rather, the shape it took - in his hand. His heart is pounding and it's less about giving the heart back and more about how Cullen will feel once he has it.
He follows Cullen into the kitchen.
"I really should give this back to you before we do anything," he says. Maybe Cullen won't want him to stay.
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"All right." He's not completely sure why this moment is as charged as it is, why he has fingers of dread hooking into his belly. He steels himself for whatever is coming.
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He bites his lip and steps back, then takes the glass from Cullen. He doesn't drink, just holds it, watching Cullen uncertainly.
"I'm sorry I did what I did, Cullen. I--I don't know if I really have an excuse. I could say it was the sickness that was going around, but it was still my choice to do it. I could've done something less damaging... like stalking or something."
He tries a small smile and makes himself stop talking when he realizes that he's rambling.
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He'd be lying if he said it doesn't hurt that he did such a thing, but at the same time, he had been warned of this. It didn't come out of the blue. It came during winter, and not just winter, but a time of bitter, bitter cold.
He sets his wine glass aside and steps forward, reaching to take his free hand. "I won't say it's OK. It hurt, and I...I hate being manipulated." He forces himself to meet his gaze.
"But." His squeeze of his hand is gentle. "You told me what you are and what you do. You told me that day in the lobby, and I told you I accepted you. That hasn't changed. It won't change. Because you're also someone who came here and made it right, the same someone who gave me flowers, who forgave me my misstep when I wasn't fully myself."
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But what Cullen says shows far more mercy than Jamie was expecting. He doesn't know why. Maybe because he thinks his crimes are greater than that, or because the crime itself is so against Cullen's sensibilities.
"That wasn't me," he murmurs as he lowers his gaze again. "I mean, it was, but I've never done that before. That--that's what Sam was doing to people. What he wanted to do to me."
Which just makes it more horrific to him that he'd done it at all. He didn't want to turn into Sam. Jamie hates the hot tears he feels in his eyes, the few that slide down his cheek. They don't freeze.
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He's trying to catch his gaze. For the latter statement, he reaches to tip his chin up and brushes away a couple of the tears with a stroke of the side of his index finger.
"May I hold you?" Sometimes a gesture can say more than words.
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"Please," he says belatedly, voice wet. "The tighter the better, this is absolutely embarrassing."
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"Thank you, Cullen," he murmurs. He almost says something else, something he swallows back because it's silly and likely unrequited. So instead he just nuzzles close and brushes a more or less chaste kiss to Cullen's chest.
"I think I'm alright. Didn't mean to make this about me."
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"Have you recovered? I was worried with the...the ice." That was something he hadn't been able to figure out.
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"I have," he assures. "The tears were--they were a mark of the Duchy. The title that I seem to have taken for the duration of... whatever that was. The Duchy of the Icebound Heart."
He shivers just thinking of them, because he can never mention their cadre without thinking of Sam.
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"Or...or make you happy?" That hadn't frustrated but rather saddened him at the time. There were moments of cruelty when he seemed happy. He's fairly sure those weren't real happiness.
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He shrugs, embarrassed to say it. But Cullen at least deserves his honesty after what Jamie put him through.
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"I hope you realize I care about you a great deal," he says eventually. "You don't have to...to do anything to take it. It's already yours."
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Jamie buries his face against Cullen's chest like he might smother himself there. It's funny to think that months ago this conversation might have seemed impossible. Such a rocky start for such a soft landing now. Jamie doesn't know what to do with the sentiment, almost afraid of it. What does Cullen mean by it? They're dear friends, certainly, but--
He pushes it out of his mind. He shouldn't wonder, just accept the sweetness offered, regardless of measure or intensity.
"Thank you," he murmurs.
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"Spring is on the way. Here-ish. I know you must be excited. Do you have any grand plans?" He'd very much like to see him in his element.
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He misses it dearly by the sound of things. He sighs and rests his head on Cullen's shoulder.
"I'll have to see if Dorian will help me arrange something big. It'll be strange organizing a revel by myself."