princehonorable | (no subject)

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snow

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He's beginning to feel like there's a chance he'll see the makings of a real bed sometime soon. He says that every morning, but he truly believes it. With every passing day, his legs tremble a little less -- he can manage going a little farther -- and the pain doesn't last so long. He can take deeper breaths, he's remembering more, and it's all coming together to make him feel healed. David thinks he actually might be all right.

That still keeps him pent up in the clinic for most nights, just in case he needs a doctor's help before the morning's out. It gets a bit lonely, he won't lie. So, now, as the evening winds down, he has to start thinking about dinner again. Maybe he'll go to the kitchen and see if he can't strike up some conversation with someone else who doesn't have any plans for the evening.

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David chases after a kiss, his lips sliding to the corner of hers before he holds her just a bit tighter. "The way you say my name drives me crazy," he confesses, taking in a short breath. "You're the only thing that feels real to me, but I'm starting to experience all sorts of real things."

"Really? Like what?" she asks, a slightly shy grin on her lips as she nudges into him, shrugging her shoulder against his chest. His eyes are so blue as they gaze into hers, and she lifts a hand to gently touch his face, her fingertips moving over the slight scrape of stubble before curling underneath his ear.

"I think you know very well what," is his heated reply, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. Now that he's well-aware that her feelings for him are returned, he doesn't feel half as terrible as he might before. He knows that he wants this and she surely returns his affections. His eyes drift closed and he lets out a soft laugh. "Snow..."

She's beginning to lean into him again when he utters a word - a name, even, judging by the way it falls from his lips with that kind of familiarity - and she pulls back, eyes opening as a frown of confusion appears in place of her original smile. "What did you say?" she asks, head tilting.

David focuses on what he did say and suddenly he's opening his mouth, trying to eke out an explanation. "I don't know," he admits, because it's what came out when he let his defenses down, but he has no good explanation as to why. "It just came out."

"Did something I do make you remember anything?" she asks, looking at him with curiosity and concern all in the same expression. "Are you remembering something right now? Tell me what you were thinking about just then," she whispers, cupping his cheek in her palm. "Close your eyes."

He's about to protest, but then remembers the advice that he's been given. He closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath in order to calm his mind and try to let the thoughts come through. "Now what?" he asks, uncertain of what they're doing.

"What do you see?" she asks, soft, her voice a near-whisper as she lingers close, just close enough to be able to speak quietly and still be heard. "What are you remembering?"

"There's a castle." He can't make out the specifics, but he can see the bigger picture and he sees the castle, but when he thinks harder, it's not a warm or welcoming place. "There's a dungeon. A prison. I think, I'm in it. No, you are." Or maybe they both are. He has the distinct impression of a thought of them both behind those bars.

"Go on," she whispers, her voice hushed and almost exciting in its pressing him to continue, her eyes gazing over his face and the way he looks so intent on attempting to remember what so clearly feels as though it's resting just on the surface. And yet a part of her is almost afraid of what he'll recover, piece by piece.

He swallows back the trepidation that comes out of delving through his uncertain mind to look for answers that he's not sure he possesses. "There's a dungeon and I'm down there. The King is trapping me because I'm not who he says. No. I haven't done what he wants me to do, because I won't, I won't do it, because..."

He opens his eyes, staring at her. "Because of you."

"Me?" She's doubtful, but more significant than that, she's curious. Instead, she tries to play it off as something else, ducking her head and gazing up at him through eyelashes. "Maybe you're not a prince after all, if the King is threatening you."

"Do you really think I could be a prince?" he asks, genuinely curious as he leans in and brushes his fingers over her cheek, cupping her face. "I don't feel very regal."

"I think so," she answers, grinning slyly as she tips her head into the touch of his hand, already beginning to giggle. There is a part of her that means all of what she's saying. "You have the devastating good looks, for starters."

He laughs softly, sliding his hand around her back. "Devastating good looks?" he echoes. "That sounds like you've actually been looking at me and appraising my looks. You really think they're devastating?"

"What?" She chuckles, shaking her head slowly, as if she doesn't recall actually uttering the words. "Did I say that? Maybe I didn't say devastating." There's no denying that he's handsome, though. Anyone with eyes can see that.

"I think you said devastating," he insists, nodding and unable to help the small trace of arrogance that comes with such a designation. After all, she's the one who said it and she's the most beautiful woman he's ever known. "Admit it or else."

"Or else what?" she asks, unable to stop the question from slipping out as she grins, almost half-wickedly, slowly sitting up on the blanket to take another sip of the wine she's brought, her fingers loosely gripping the glass.

He leans over and pushes the glass of wine lightly down so that she can't bring it to her lips, filling the space with his body instead. He feels as if he's done this so many times that it ought to be habit, but he kisses her like it's their first, sliding the crooks of his knuckle over her neck.

Like this, like so many other times, she kisses him back, winding her arms around his neck and beaming brightly, still smiling even as the kiss breaks. "Okay," she answers, somewhat breathlessly. "You sure showed me."

He brushes a fond kiss to her brow, lips brushing in the most gentle of motions before he eases back onto sore legs, affording the softest of smiles to her. "Shall we eat?"

"We may have to," she agrees, shifting to sit up as she takes a few more items out of the picnic basket. "I'm starving."

"Then, let's not delay a second more," he insists, gesturing to the picnic basket and all the amazing things it seems are hidden within. "Let's eat, then, and we'll talk about our situation a little more when our stomachs are full."

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