UBIATION – (n) the act of occupying a new place
Wyatt laid on his back, too numb to move as his fiancé (he couldn't even believe it) showered meticulously. He slowly turned his head to survey his surroundings. This was their home. Some little place next to a park, with the sight of a lake or ocean not too far off. The condo was surprisingly clean when Arson carried him here, as they explored their hidden space. His parents didn't even know where they were, just they were on the outskirts of the city and it would be safe.
The large screen TV didn't work, but the stereo system was still loud and blaring some foreign rock song that got his libido raging. Well, it had it raging before. He tried to sit up, but all his muscles locked up on him and he nearly gave a pained yelp. His hair was finally drying, all the sweat and other fluids on his skin leaving him sticky.
Wyatt tried to recall the past few hours, and just how much Lysol he would need to clean all the furniture. The front door, the front table, the kitchen counters and table, just everything. And it wasn't going to get any easier as time passed and everything dried.
The bathroom door creaked open and a rush of hot air hit his face. His lover exited the room with a towel wrapped around his waist and quickly pounced atop him for a kiss.
"Can you move, babe?" the Smoker asked with a sly grin.
"Does it look like I can move? You kinda went to town on me, you know. I'm surprised we made it up the stairs."
Arson kissed his fiancée again before removing himself from the bed, killing the music, and lifting his lover into a bridal carry. With a groan of pain, thy two entered the large king-sized bathroom and made their way over to the porcelain tub. Water steamed and sloshed as the smaller body was gently placed into the tub, a loving grip on his left hand. The Hunter couldn't stop staring at the ring.
It was a simple silver loop that Arson had found near the lake before a Tank had scared them off, just a little thing that held so much meaning when slipped onto his left ring finger. He curled his finger around the Smoker's and nuzzled the back of the hand.
"I love you, Wyatt," Arson whispered against his hair before placing a kiss between the locks.
"I love you more, Arson," was the heartful reply as muscles relaxed once again.
The entire room shook as a squadron of planes passed overhead, though neither male took notice. This was their happily ever after. Nothing could ruin that.