A/N: Just to be clear, I'm not here to write a compelling story filled with drama and conflict. I'm here to write self-soothing wank. Things will be largely slice-of-life going forward and I will update whenever and with whatever I please. Also, I don't want to write Cygnet as a bad mother, but Elior is going to be pretty out-of-focus just because I don't personally know that much about the development of toddlers. Thank you for understanding :)

When they got back to the apartment complex, Cygnet paused on the second flight. She took out her phone and texted, then smiled uneasily at Trent.

"I told Clarence I'm staying with you until James leaves, and to text me if he needs anything," she said. Trent nodded and unlocked his door.

His living conditions were rather Spartan; since he spent most of his time at Cygnet's place, he hadn't bothered to furnish his own too much since she'd moved in. He had a desk, laptop, and printer in his living room, and a bed with drawers in his bedroom, and that was about it. His turtlenecks and trousers were hung neatly in his closet, along with one pair of swim trunks and two athletic outfits. He had a hanging shelf organizer for his shoes.

They went to his bedroom, then, and cuddled up on his bed. She gazed at him admiringly and said, "You know, I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like you. You're so strong, but you're not afraid to be vulnerable. You put yourself out there when it matters, and you're obviously really intelligent and determined." Her words were a balm to him, soothing the wounds he'd torn open talking about his past.

"About what I said earlier…" He hesitated. When she didn't speak, he continued. "I meant it. I've been in love with you from the moment I saw you, which was actually a few years ago. You were at the park, talking to this girl about Clarence's dad."

She blushed and smiled self-consciously. "Yeah, I made some bad choices back then. That girl I was with, she kind of brought out the worst in me, so it's probably a good thing you didn't, you know, approach me… at the time. Um." Her expression turned serious. "Trent, I… need to have an incredibly awkward conversation with Clarence. I can't walk out on him and Elior, but the truth is…." She took a deep breath. "I, um."

He wanted to hear it, he really wanted to hear it. He watched her eagerly, waiting for her to finish. But she didn't. She just grimaced and drummed her fingers on his chest. Still, the fact that she was saying anything at all, no matter how haltingly, was cause for hope to blossom anew in his heart. He felt like he was floating, blissful and free. He's just told her about his failed love story; surely she appreciated that he was opening his heart to her now. She wasn't a monster, she wasn't going to lead him in or break his heart. But she was practical; she didn't want to hurt Clarence or abandon her family.

He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Whatever you need, babygirl."

She stayed at his apartment for a week, though she went upstairs to cuddle and play with her baby for an hour or two every day. When she came back, Trent waited in anticipation for her to tell her something, anything, about where he stood. Meanwhile, he drew her baths every night and massaged her body, stopping just short of breast and yoni massage, at her behest. She snuggled up to him in bed afterwards without a stitch on. He tried not to think about it, but it was so… difficult. He yearned to be closer to her, connected with her. He couldn't stop imagining what it would be like. He could have asked her to wear something, or he could have put a pillow between them, and he promised himself he would if the temptation was more than he could bear. But he managed to make it through the week without acting on desire.

On Saturday, she was gone longer than usual. Eventually she texted him to meet her and Clarence upstairs. He did so, his nervous anticipation intensifying into anxiety. But to his surprise, Clarence welcomed him warmly. Mr. Dryderin had just left yesterday, he explained, and Clarence had had a lot to think about. Then today, Cygnet had said she had something she wanted to discuss with him, about Trent, and Clarence had seen where it was going immediately. They had agreed that she could become romantically involved with Trent, but keep their rendezvous out of Clarence's apartment until he got used to the idea of sharing Cygnet with another man. He didn't want to lose the mother of his child, or his friend, and he wasn't really the jealous type, but he wanted some time to process everything before he saw them doing couple-y things. Trent was also free to come up and hang out with Clarence and Elior as before; nothing would really change, except that if Trent and Cygnet were going to "kiss or whatever", it had better be at Trent's place or out of doors. Clarence would let them know when he was comfortable seeing them together-together.

All in all, it worked out. Cygnet had drafted something stating the terms they'd agreed on, and the three of them signed and dated it. Then they chatted about mundane things and played with Elior for a while, until it was time for Elior to have his dinner and go to bed.

"I'm going to spend the night downstairs, then," Cygnet said. "We'll see you tomorrow?"

Clarence looked surprised—so soon?—but nodded. "See you then."

Once they were back in Trent's apartment, Cygnet led him to his own bed, straddled him, and kissed him passionately. He was overwhelmed with relief that things were working out the way he needed them to, the physical desire and frustration he'd been feeling all week, and joy that she reciprocated his feelings….

But he needed to hear it, just to be sure. As she reached for his zipper, he put his hands on her shoulders and said, "Wait."

She waited, gazing up at him with bright amber eyes.

"If we do this, if we make love, I'm going to become even more attached to you. I don't know if I can possibly love you more, but if we do this, I won't want to leave your side. Ever."

Her expression softened and she cupped his cheek tenderly. "Trent," she said, her voice filled with emotion, "thank you for that, but you don't have to worry. I love you, too. I just couldn't tell you until I got the green light from…." She gestured to the ceiling.

A broad, boyish grin broke out across his face, and she swooped down and kissed each of his dimples with a little squeal of delight.

"This is really happening," he breathed rapturously. She nodded and slid her hands underneath his turtleneck, feeling his lean, hunky body before helping take the garment off.

She loved him. She really, really loved him, and every movement of her body, every tightening, every gasp and moan and sweet little sigh confirmed it. He'd read plenty of books about the technical skills of lovemaking, and whether from experience or sheer talent, she was just as skilled, but no amount of technical ability could have outshined their adoration for each other. They fed off and fed into each other's emotions, the facts that he loved her and she loved him too undeniable in the free, unselfish and un-self-conscious way they explored each other. Every kiss and every touch was as pure and filled with love as that of an angel.

Afterwards, they lay in bed together, him on his back, her curled into him, holding hands and smiling contentedly. They weren't sated, exactly—they would never have enough of each other—but they were harmonious and their bodies needed rest. His frame of reference was limited, but he told her she was his best; she nestled closer to him and told him he was the best she could remember. He found that interesting, and almost asked about Clarence, but decided he didn't really want to know. More-so, he didn't want to break the spell between them by mentioning anyone else by name.

Now that they had the go-ahead to be together, they started going on dates. Sometimes they would go to museums, faires, festivals, concerts, opera, the ballet, dinners, and the like; other times she would tag along with him while he did his exercises. She did yoga and practiced dance warm-ups while he lifted boulders and dragged logs. He loved the way she looked at him, the admiration in her eyes for his perfect, almost superhuman fitness. He also loved that she chose workouts for herself that would increase her stamina and flexibility for him. Some weekends they just stayed in and played board games all day, ordering in food and drink so they wouldn't have to take a break to cook.

Now that they were together, she also let him increase the range of the massages he gave, and she asked him—asked him—to climb in the bathtub with her, which he did with no small amount of trepidation. She still slept nude, and now he could, too, and he didn't have to be afraid she'd feel guilty if he touched her.

It felt strange to not feel a constant sense of yearning, to not be endlessly striving for something he was told he couldn't have. Sometimes he was bewildered by his own happiness; sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night in a sudden panic that it was all going to go awry. He confessed these fears to Cygnet, and she was gentle and unfailingly patient with him. It was natural for him to feel this way, she said. She had the same fears sometimes. Besides, he had clearly been traumatized by his previous experiences- they both skirted around mentioning his ex by name- and he couldn't expect himself to just heal at the snap of his fingers. He was doing fine, she soothed, and she wasn't going to abandon him.

It didn't take too long for Clarence to be okay with seeing Trent and Cygnet together. The four of them (including Elior) hung out as a family, and Elior was obviously as fond of Trent as he was of his parents. Elior was an endearing little chatterbox, and he and Trent bonded over the toddler's hatred of bathtime. Clarence had taken years to get used to water, too, and he still didn't like being submerged or getting his hair wet. Cygnet, on the other hand, loved to swim and wanted to get Elior used to water baths (as opposed to being wiped down with wet naps) so she could teach him how to swim, too.

Now that Elior was older, Cygnet was a lot more comfortable with him. Sometimes she and Trent took care of him while Clarence went to reenactment events or hit the gym. Sometimes Trent looked after Elior alone while Cygnet and Clarence went out together. That was Trent's least favorite thing, but he took comfort in the fact that, even if he had to share Cygnet, at least he had her. She had made it clear how much she loved him and how she wasn't going anywhere.

Life was as good as it could be. He was healing, slowly but surely, and she was gently coaxing him along that path. Neither of them felt the need for much space from one another; he had a lot of time to make up for and wanted to experience being loved and accepted as much as possible. Similarly, she had a history of being clingy and she didn't much like that Clarence commented on how much she asked for attention. Not only did Trent and Cygnet find solace in each other, but they also had quite a lot in common, and not just because Trent had taken it upon himself to immerse himself in her special interests before they'd officially met. They rarely disagreed, and when they did, it was over small things. Their love grew from mutual admiration, infatuation, and solace into something deeper, something new, or at least, new to Trent. He'd finally found the joy he'd been seeking.