Chapter Text
Raymun spits out his beer, and the group roars with laughter. Steffon’s laughter is obnoxiously loud as he pats Raymun on the back with so much force that Raymun’s head almost slams onto the table.
“That is not what happened!” Raymun says.
“Aye, whatever you say, cousin,” Steffon says, giving him an exaggerated wink.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tanselle says, waving her hand. “So let me get this straight - not only did you botch your confession, you confessed to her grandfather?”
“Steffon broke my glasses! Everyone looks identical when you’re half blind!”
“Get this,” Steffon says, and Raymun turns to him in horror. “He kisses her grandfather too!”
The table breaks down into laughter again.
“Stop it!” Raymun whines.
“On the hand?” Rafe says.
“On the lips!” Steffon says.
“I was going for her cheek!” Raymun says.
“You mean her grandfather’s cheek!” Dunk says.
“Come on,” Raymun says. He turns to Rowan with an injured look on his face.
Rowan is still laughing, but she takes his face in her hands and kisses him on the lips gently, coaxing a smile back onto his face. Raymun’s grinning by the time she pulls away, and his eyes is bursting with affection for his wife. They’ve been married for five years, the same number of years Dunk and Aerion have been married for.
Ever since they have gotten married, Aerion has joined one of his gatherings with his friends exactly once. In the first month of their marriage. He keeps saying he’ll come again, and Dunk keeps inviting him for two years until he realises that Aerion has no intentions of ever doing so. He may be slow, but he gets there eventually.
Rowan turns to look at the bar. That’s all she does, and Raymun’s already putting his hand up, ordering a kir royale for her. She beams like the sun and kisses him again.
Looking at them makes Dunk feel bittersweet. He’s still head over heels in love with Aerion, and Aerion is as equally as enamoured with him. For the longest, that was enough. Recently, though, Dunk has started feeling restless. He can’t put a finger to it, but there’s a tightness in his chest that’s getting harder and harder to ease, a knot in his stomach that’s getting harder and harder to come undone.
He doesn’t realise how deep the feeling runs until the group breaks up to go home, and he feels a sense of dread. He doesn’t want to go home.
But he doesn’t get to change his mind, because the car pulls up at exactly 10pm like he had requested it too. He could send the car home and crash at Raymun and Rowan’s, but word will get back to Aerion.
“Sir?” Donnel says.
“Nothing,” Dunk says and quickly gets into the car. Donnel closes the door behind him, and Dunk feels like he’s suffocating. He lowers the window.
He feels more than notice Donnel’s eyes flickering in the rear view mirror to see what he’s doing and feels a flash of irritation. Is this going to go back to Aerion too? Gods. He just wants some air.
“Are you feeling alright, Sir?”
“Quite well, Donnel. Thanks.”
Donnel doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the ride, which Dunk is grateful for.
As the large black gates come into view, the heavier the feeling in Dunk’s guts becomes. Five years he’s lived in this sprawling compound and it still doesn’t feel like home. The three black dragons that sit atop the gates still feel like gatekeepers denying him entrance.
The Targaryen Estate, Dragonstone, is beautiful. It is a work of art. People would die to know what it looks like on the inside, because the Targaryens have never once featured it in any lifestyle magazine despite countless requests over the centuries. When Dunk had first visited, he’d been made to sign an agreement to not take any photos.
Yet no matter how strong the sun shone or how many flowers bloomed, there’s something in the air that has always made it feel dark and gloomy to Dunk, and Aerion’s the only bright spot in the darkness.
The car stops at Caraxes Wing, Dunk and Aerion’s residence.
Dunk thanks Donnel and goes inside quickly. He always feels better when he has his omega in his arms, and he desperately needs him tonight. He finds Aerion curled up with a blanket on the plush sofa, reading a book. Dunk’s chest eases, especially when Aerion looks up, his face brightening when he sees Dunk. He holds out a hand, and Dunk takes it, kissing it.
“Welcome home, my love,” Aerion says. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes,” Dunk says with a grin. “It’s always good to catch up with them.” There’s a pause, then he says, “You should come with me next time.”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” Aerion says lightly, and the tightness returns to Dunk’s chest.
Aerion straddles his lap. “I missed you, alpha,” he says, his scent dripping with sugar.
Blood rushes south, and Dunk grabs Aerion’s waist. His omega is so perfect. He cups the back Aerion’s head and pulls him down for a kiss. They fuck on the sofa, slowly but passionately. The bliss from popping a knot fades rather quickly today.
Dunk holds Aerion close to his chest and asks the question he’s been dreading to ask for a year now. But he thinks it’s time to bring it up again.
“How are you feeling about children now?”
Aerion stiffens in his arm, and the knot in Dunk’s stomach tightens.
“I haven’t really given it much thought,” Aerion says. “I’ve been really busy. There’s the Blackwater Acquisition and the Whitewalls Merger. You know all this.”
“Yeah,” Dunk says, rubbing circles into Aerion’s hips. “You still want children, though, right?”
“Of course,” Aerion says, pressing a kiss to Dunk’s lips. “Just not right now.”
Aerion said that before too. And it’s been five years since then. Dunk doesn’t really want to wait another five years.
“I love you,” Aerion says.
Dunk’s entire body relaxes. He pulls Aerion close to him and buries his nose in Aerion’s neck, licking the mating bite. “I love you too,” he says into his skin.
He means it, he really does.
His entire body is bursting at the seams with how much affection he feels for Aerion.
But their house is a little darker than it usually is tonight.
A week later, Dunk finds himself standing in front of a law firm. He hadn’t even been planning on coming here, but he had seen the sign after finishing lunch, and his feet have led him here.
It’s not the first time Dunk has thought about leaving. But every time, it seems as if Aerion can read his mind. He’d do something that makes Dunk remember why he loves him, and then Dunk would just choose to stay. Or he’d give Dunk something to address whatever was making Dunk upset, and that would make Dunk remember that Aerion loves him too, which also makes him stay.
The last time Aerion had given him a whole foundation to manage corporate scholarships. It’s his current job.
But as he stands in front of the law firm, he feels like a dog that’s always given just enough food to stop it from starving but never enough to feel full.
Dunk loves Aerion so much, but he’s starting to lose sight of who he is.
He cannot go on like this.
He enters the office.
The lawyer tells him it’ll only take a few days to draft the paperwork and file with the court. Suddenly, it all seems too real. Dunk apologises and flees. He can’t believe he even considered it in the first place. It’s such a betrayal to Aerion, to their marriage.
That night, he shows Aerion just how much he loves him, and when Aerion comes for the fifth time, calling out his name, he finally starts to feel better.
It works for a while. Touching Aerion. Holding him. Reminding himself what he’s staying for. But the tightness in Dunk’s chest stops going away, and the knot in his stomach has turned into a rock. He loves Aerion so much he can’t breathe.
Dunk returns to the law firm two months later and has a paperwork in his hands two days later.
For the first time in a long time, going home doesn’t fill him with a sense of foreboding.
Two months earlier
“Are you sure?” Aerion asks for the umpteenth time.
Roland nods, patient as ever. “He’s been talking to lawyers. The divorce papers haven’t been drawn up, but they probably will be soon.”
“Does he know he’ll get nothing? The prenup my father made him sign is airtight.”
“You know he doesn’t care about the money. That’s not going to make him stay.”
“And I guess I’m not going to make him stay either?” Aerion says.
Roland keeps his mouth shut.
Aerion’s hands shake uncontrollably. He hurls the a vase across the room and watches it smash against the wall, breaking into a hundred little pieces. It brings him no satisfaction. He picks up a potted plant, but Roland grabs his wrist.
“Trashing your office isn’t going to do anything,” Roland says.
“It’s going to make me feel better,” Aerion says.
“Just give him what he wants,” Roland says. “He’s not worth it.”
“Oh, I’ll give him what he wants alright,” Aerion says. Roland eyes him warily, but the plan is already taking shape in Aerion’s mind.
Duncan is never going to leave him.
“Aerion, I have to talk to you.”
Oh, his poor Duncan. Sounding so sad and serious. As if Aerion only abuses him and never shows him any love.
Fucking ingrate.
Aerion closes his eyes, takes in a deep, deep breath, then lets the sweetest smile spread across his face and lets his scent bloom. He turns around and notes the gaunt, wretched look on Duncan’s handsome face. His heart clenches so painfully, but he pretends not to notice Duncan’s sadness. He’ll make his baby feel better; he always does.
“Me too,” he says, tempering the excitement exactly right - bursting at the seams to tell Duncan, not so enthusiastic that he seems unhinged. He has to be so careful, though, because he really does feel a little off his rocker. If he accidentally laughs, he’s sure some hysteria will leak into it.
Duncan frowns, and Aerion knows he’ll let him goes first. He always does. What a sweetheart, his Duncan. Aerion tightens his smile but reins it in and doesn’t let the crazy out.
“What is it?” Duncan says. He sounds so nervous. He still thinks he’s going to be able to tell Aerion about the divorce.
His alpha can be so adorable sometimes.
Aerion places a hand on his stomach and says, “I’m pregnant! You're going to be a father.”
Duncan’s face is a frozen pond. It shatters into disbelief and joy and confusion and pain. So messy. But it’s alright. Aerion will pick the pieces up and build him back up.
He always does.