Gabriel's knees are always (skinned) wrote in rooms,
Re: House: Ben/Ronan
[He doesn't want to think about Ben like that. Ben angry, boiling over with an untethered fury - it makes him ache on the inside. To know that Ronan made that happen, with his big bloody mouth and whatever pitiful light shines in his eyes to make Ben think nothing of throwing his zen-Buddha mindset away just to toss a couple of punches at some douchebag in chef whites.
So yeah, it hurts. Makes him sting like a papercut rubbed with antiseptic swabs, even as Ben shoves it away, out of frame. Not to be ignored, but yeah, not as important as the now.
Oh. Yes, oh.]
Love you. [The words spill out of him for real, formed on his lips at the same time as they grace Ben's mouth, tilted up against Ronan's like that. He's caught between surprise that it actually worked, and a breathless sort of awe at this man. The man who loves him. Accepts him, welcomes him. Ronan's hands reach up to cup around each side of Ben's jaw, with their dampened hems against his stubbled chin. In time, they will get up off the bathroom floor. Ben will insist on cleaning his face and tending his wounds, and Ronan will pretend to protest, just for the sake of being difficult. But he will smile through the pain and the winces, because it will mean that he is that much closer to crawling into their bed. Their bed. In their home.
He will marvel at the security and the strength of this man, and these walls, and this love. This home of love.]