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Even after years of marriage they barely argue.
The peacefulness of their home is almost never interrupted, except for the times when Charn and Jet would come visit them. Other than that it’s always calm and blissful at their house.
But whenever they did argue, it always seemed to be small disagreements that they usually resolved within the same day, never letting an argument last more than a day and definitely without ever going to bed mad at each other.
However, this time is different.
This time, the argument is lasting more… a day more and Khem can’t seem to find a way to resolve it.
Since technically it has been somewhat... his fault.
Don't come back alone at night, it could be dangerous. Wait for me. I'll come pick you up.
His husband asked, but he didn't listen. Fortunately, nothing bad happened. But that was enough to cause the disagreement. Khem couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't going to allow them go to bed mad at each other one more night. Not anymore!
So he came up with a plan. And he was absolutely certain that his husband would take the bait.
He puts his plan into action the moment he enters the room and sees his husband still sitting at his desk reading a book. (allegedly)
The first few minutes after entering the room are filled with an uncomfortable silence, the kind of tense silence that was common when they met so many years ago, but which now feels foreign to them.
At first, Khem pretends not to notice how Pharan tenses up in his seat when he enters the room, and picks up the nearest book to pretend to read. But he sees everything and smiles secretly as he realizes how easy it is for him now to read his husband.
The younger version of him who first arrived at this house would disagree, given how difficult it has been for him to try to understand the feelings of such a stubborn man. But now things are different. They no longer hide anything from each other, not even the most insignificant things, and they communicate their feelings as best they can. That's why it's so hard for Khem to see them walking around cautiously, to see how his husband tenses up when he enters the room, probably fearing that they will start another argument when they haven't even solved the previous one yet.
So, that’s exactly what Khem is doing, solving it.
And he was going to solve it one trick at the time.
After those few minutes of silence, he sighs, loud and clear, so that he can be heard.
When the first sigh gets no reaction, he repeats it, this time louder.
Now he does get a slight reaction, but Pharan only turns slightly toward him, not enough to face him, not enough for Khem to continue with what he wanted to do.
Abandoning subtlety, Khem openly complains.
“P’Peem, I don't want us to continue being mad at each other.” He finally speaks, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them.
This time, Pharan’s reaction is a bit less stiff, but it's still not what Khem wanted from him, only a simple: “It’s fine, Khem.”
“No, it’s not!” Khem complains again. “You’ve barely looked at me since the moment I entered the room.”
“It’s not like that…”
“Then, look at me,” Khem commands, and Pharan must have sensed the intensity in his voice, because this time he turns completely to face him, and what he sees startles him so much that he almost drops the book he is holding in his hand.
“Khem, what—”
“I just don’t want us to continue being mad…” Khem repeats, but now in a softer voice, blinking gently to make his intention clear.
That alone would have worked wonders on his husband, who is already struggling to regain his previous nonchalant facade, but that, along with a couple of unbuttoned buttons on his shirt, makes it hard for his stubborn shaman to breathe.
However, his husband wouldn't be the best at what he does if he weren't so stubborn and determined. That's why Khem isn't surprised that Pharan ignores the unbuttoned buttons on his shirt with such ease that it almost makes him angry again.
“I'm still reading, Khem,” he says with a confidence that isn't reflected in his actions, as he struggles to pick up the book again.
Khem stifles a small laugh as he points out the obvious: “The book is upside down.”
Pharan has the decency to look genuinely embarrassed as he drops the book on the table for good. He is about to argue a little more, probably to come up with an excuse, when he is once again rendered speechless as his gaze falls on Khem's shirt, now completely unbuttoned.
“Khem, what are you—”
“I'm getting comfortable for bed...” says Khem, feigning an innocence he is unwilling to own up to, at least not tonight. “You should do the same. Won't you join me? And get comfortable together. In bed. The two of us together,” he adds cheekily.
It takes Pharan a long minute to look away from Khem's bare chest. And when he finally manages tear his eyes off, he seems unwilling to take any more risks, so he closes his eyes altogether and keeps them closed when he says:
“I'm still wearing the amulets, Khem...” he says in a pleading voice.
“Take them off, then."
Khem's voice seems to push his husband to the limit, because he opens his eyes and stares intently at him, anchoring him to the bed with an ease that only he can muster. Immobilizing him in the spot on the bed where Khem is sitting.
The smile on Khem's lips is almost impossible to contain.
It's always a pleasure to see his husband try to restrain himself and fail.
Khem's eyes follow Phara's every move as he rises from his seat and, with very slow and deliberate movements, begins to remove his amulets, without taking his eyes off him.
He always finds it both exciting and intimidating to feel that intense gaze on him. Despite the years, Khem still cannot get used to its weight, its scrutiny, its intensity. It makes him want to run to him and hide at the same time, a constant struggle between covering himself or exposing himself completely. And he always chooses the latter.
Imitating his husband's deliberate movements, Khem finishes removing his shirt and is about to do the same with his pants when he is interrupted by the sudden closeness of the other man.
“Let me do it,” he says, approaching the edge of the bed, his amulets now nowhere to be seen. His voice is so low that Khem can barely hear him, but by now he knows his husband with his eyes closed, can hear him, read him, recognize him by the simple way he moves and breathes. He can read the intention written on his face and knows that his plans have worked exactly as he wanted when Pharan is there, within reach, his eyes pleading and his hands eager to be on him.
“This is bolder than the first time you asked me to rest in bed with you,” he adds, his voice slightly mocking but his expression intense as he stares at Khem.
“If I remember correctly, that time it was you who starting making suggestions first...” Khem replies. “You came into my room full of excuses. You had even already taken off your amulets.” He adds, touching his hips and abs, just as he knows he likes it.
This makes Pharan smile and his eyes soften as he looks into his husband's beautiful face. His hands move automatically to the top of Khem's head, combing the strands of hair that are out of place. He is instantly struck by the immensity of his feelings and is filled with the adoration he can only feel for the man in front of him.
“I'm sorry. For everything, for getting mad so easily and for letting us stay mad for so long,” says Pharan, as he continues to brush a few strands of hair, a little lost in the movement, while speaking sweetly to Khem, who can do nothing but smile back at him with the same sweetness.
“It's okay. Just don't do it again,” Khem teases, taking one of Pharan's hands and bringing it to his face to kiss it and cradle it against his cheek. “I'm sorry too. For not listening and for getting mad too,” he adds, pulling him closer. “Let's not let arguments last this long again. Okay?”
“Okay,” Pharan agrees, as he also grabs Khem by the hips while undoing his pants with a skill that would have surprised their younger selves, who never dreamed of having such a blissful married life but here they are... smiling at each other as they kiss senseless and promise to never let an argument last more than a day at most, a couple of hours at least.