Five Acts Meme
This is my post for the Five Acts Meme - which looks really awesome and you guys should all sign up. It means that people might write fic for you. And of course you're so allowed to write fic for me even if you don't sign up. ;) It's multi-fandom, don't let the SoA banner scare you away.
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But now that he feels them, it’s an entire other matter.
He hadn’t thought it would happen. He had been the first to be surprised at his reaction the moment Davos showed up in front of him at Winterfell with Rickon Stark in tow and the alliance coming with it (not that he could care less right now). He had surprised himself when he asked Davos to follow him to his quarters and then grabbed the lapels of his worn-out cloak and brought him forward, and he hadn’t been expecting Davos’s hands to brush against his neck as Davos moved back (a while later). But he had felt that, and he had reached up and grabbed the both of them so that they’d stay there. Davos had looked surprised but hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t moved them either.
No one would say that they are nice hands. The skin under Davos’s fingertips is rough and calloused and there isn’t a part of them that is soft against his neck. He doesn’t have very long fingers, and his right hand is slightly shaking but he’s not moving it away. But it feels nice. There are no gloves now, and the fingertips were cold when they touched him at first, but they’re slightly warmer now.
That’s for the fingertips. On the right hand, because the fingertips from the left aren’t exactly in contact with his skin. But the palm is, and it’s almost as rough as the fingers. Stannis can imagine the lines running over it, and he thinks that it would look dark against his neck (spending half of your life on a ship will make your skin darker), and when he looks straight at Davos he doesn’t even know how to describe the way he’s looking at him. Surprised. Not disgusted. Maybe a bit wary of doing the wrong thing. In his position, Stannis supposes he would - he’s not exactly behaving the way he’s done all of his life. But it’s just - he had thought that Davos was really dead this time, and he doesn’t know what’s possessing him right now. Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t ask himself.
He reaches up with his right hand, covers Davos’s left the best he can without actually seeing it, and curls his fingers downwards. He thinks he visibly shivers when Davos’s maimed fingertips meet the skin where neck meets collarbone, and they’re - it’s different. They’re still rough, but not as much, and there are no nails, of course, and for a moment he wishes he had never swung that blade.
“I shouldn’t have,” he says, and he can’t recognize his own voice.
“I remember agreeing to it, Your Grace,” Davos replies, and his voice is half-shaking as well.
“Don’t,” he replies. “Not right now. And it doesn’t matter.”
“I wouldn’t have agreed for just anyone.” Davos’s voice is barely audible, and they’re so impossibly close right now. It would be the work of a moment to close that distance entirely, and now that Davos is here and alive he can’t find it in himself to move away.
He shouldn’t be that weak. At least, a part of him is insistently repeating that. But it’s drowned out by another part that says just do it for once, you denied yourself long enough.
And he can’t take that step himself, he knows he can’t, but then he just nods, once, hoping that Davos understands what he means (he should, he always does) and then Davos’s right hand slowly moves upwards, touching his cheek almost reverently. His left stays where it is, his thumb pressing softly against Stannis’s skin, and then his mouth is right there and his lips are touching Stannis’s - his right hand shaking just slightly but not moving away.
He kisses back, his own arms tightening around Davos’s waist, grabbing fistful of his tunic, and it’s the first time in his life where he doesn’t kiss someone out of duty, and as Davos’s left hand moves to the back of his neck and the right still cradles his cheek, the only thought passing through his head is yes, yes, yes.
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