rain in your heart - patpran

18.

Pat and Pran settle into an easy rhythm over the next few days. It's surprising just how quickly they seem to have adapted to each other, but something about it just feels right, natural.

Tonight, like a few other nights, Pran has decided to cook dinner instead of eating the food served in the common dining tent. They move around the kitchen of their tent with a quiet sense of familiarity, bumping into each other as they try to make curry. It's almost a routine now. Pran takes charge, and Pat… well, he tries.

All of their attempts at this go the exact same way. Pran would first instruct Pat to cut some veggies, and would immediately regret it when Pat butchers the carrots into uneven chunks. Hed huff in frustration, mock or real- Pat isn't sure, thereby demoting him to pick out ladles and pans and hand it over to Pran when needed. And then he would accidentally drop one of those by mistake, clumsy as ever, and Pran would laugh at him before further demoting him to just standing around and giving him company. 

Tonight, he drops a ladle, and Pran's laugh tinkles in the air along with the resounding clang of metal on the floor, teasing and light.

“You know,” Pran starts, a grin playing on his lips as Pat scrambles to pick it back up, “you're such a typical alpha sometimes.”

“Am I?” Pat pretends to ponder with a raised eyebrow as he taps his chin with his finger, “My dad doesn't do the dishes, and I'm pretty sure he's a typical alpha.” 

“You're right.” Pran chuckles, the back of his hand coming up to swipe his cheek, leaving behind a smudge. “You can't even eat spicy food. Isn't that supposed to be a typical alpha “manly” thing?” 

Pat laughs softly, stepping closer and reaching out to wipe the stain with the pad of his thumb, “Yes. I can't eat things that are too sweet either.” 

Pran watches him for a moment, a fond smile on his face as he teases him, face scrunching up in mock exasperation, “What a baby. You've got the palate of a toddler. You eat like one,  too!”  

Pat snorts, and though Pran is chiding him, there's no real annoyance in his voice, only tenderness, and Pat watches his hands move effortlessly as he makes the curry, his wide gaze falling back to the task in hand. It's in moments like this that Pat realises just how domestic their life has become- how much he enjoys it. 

“Your baby, right?” Pat shoots back, something about Pran just makes him sound like a ridiculously cheesy fifteen year old with their first partner, but it's worth it to see the way Pran’s cheeks tint that pretty pink again. He watches Pran bite his lip in an effort to suppress his smile, but it's in vain. 

“You're impossible.” Pran says, reaching into the pot with a spoon, picking out some curry for Pat to taste. He blows on it a few times before pointing it to Pat's lips. Pat tastes it, the flavourful curry melting on his tongue, and Pran is looking at him with a light glinting in his bottomless eyes. 

“I like this.” He says, and Pran smiles.

“Thank you. It's my mom's recipe-” 

“No I meant,” Pat cuts him off gesturing vaguely between them, “This. Not that the curry isn't amazing as well.”

Pran laughs, throwing his head back, and his eyes are softened with something gentle. Pat laughs along with him. 

“I like it too,” Pran says, smile still wide on his lips. They don't need to say anymore than that, the silent understanding in the air around them is enough.

🥀˚｡🍷✶🖤

Later that night, they sit together on the bed, the soft glow of the lantern casting a golden light on Pran's skin as he leans against the pillows. He's flipping through a book, one that Korn has given him- something about medicinal herbs. Pran is to start working at the healer’s hut in a few days, now that his gash is almost entirely healed.

“Pran,” Pat begins, smiling softly when Pran's gaze falls on him, closing the book in his hand. “Since you're so interested in cooking, and amazing at it as well, I can ask mae if you want a role there as well, along with healing?”

“Oh,” Pran shakes his head softly, “I'd rather not. Cooking is just a hobby, Pat, I'm not particularly passionate about it.” 

“Oh?” 

Pran smiles, “Yeah, my Mae developed an interest in it a few years ago, after the alliance and after all the wars had settled down. So she taught it to me as well. I fear I'll lose any interest in it if I make it my role.”

“That makes sense.” Pat nods, still fidgeting restlessly. There's something else he wants to say, something he's been thinking about for the past two days, right from when Pran’s scent had started sweetening.

Pran notices his reluctance, and with a raised brow, he asks, “Pat, is anything wrong? What's on your mind?”

Pat rubs the back of his neck with a hand with a sigh, nervous as his gaze falls to the blanket on his lap. “It's about your heat,” he admits, “it's coming soon, right?”

Pran blinks, his face softening when he realises what Pat wants to talk sbout. He nods, placing the book down on the nightstand, “Yeah, in a few days.”

Pat glances up at him, searching his eyes for any discomfort. He continues only when he notices the lack of any. “I was just wondering… if you'd want me to be there this time?” he asks cautiously, “You don't have to go through it alone this time.”

Pran smiles at him, his heart swelling at the concern in Pat’s voice. He's been thinking about it too, has been considering asking Pat to spend his heat together. “I’d really like that,” he says with a soft smile. “I was going to ask you, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

Pat’s shoulders relax a little, and he smiles back, “You want to spend your heat together? he asks again, just to be sure.

Pran nods, biting his lip, just a little shy. “Yeah. You’ve been so good to me lately, and I... I trust you, Pat.”

Pat’s heart skips a beat at those words. Trust. He nods slowly, feeling the weight of Pran’s words settle into his chest. There's a pleasant ache in his chest, one of sheer fondness, “I’ll be there then,” he promises, trying to keep his voice steady.

There’s a moment of silence between them, and Pat watches Pran closely, noticing how his fingers nervously trace the edge of the furs. He hesitates for a moment, then asks the other question that’s been lingering in the back of his mind. “Pran, when you wanted me to stay with you... did you want to, um, also mate during your heat?”

Pran’s cheeks flush slightly, and he averts his gaze, but the smile on his lips widens. “That’s what I was implying,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, only if you want it as well-”

Pat’s breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn’t expected this conversation to be this casual, but hearing it like this- a soft whisper that Pran wants this, wants him as well- sends a wave of warmth flooding through him. He's never felt this happy before. 

“You-” he stammers, his voice unsteady. “Are you sure you want to mate with me?”

Pran looks up at him then, a soft frown creasing his brows, and nods solemnly “Yes, Pat,” he says, his voice stronger now. “I do.”

Pat’s heart swells, the reality of it sinking in. Pran trusts him, trusts him enough to want to mate him. Pran trusts him despite his shitty attitude at the start and every misunderstanding he had caused. He reaches out, taking Pran’s hand in his, his thumb brushing over Pran’s knuckles. “Then... then I’ll be there with you, Pran. During your heat, during everything.”

Pran smiles, his eyes shining as he leans forward, resting his forehead against Pat’s. “I'll be there too,” he whispers, his breath warm against Pat’s skin. Their breaths mingle, and it feels like a promise, one that doesn't need to be said out loud.

Pat can't stop the emotion that bubbles over, leaking out over his heart and falling out of his lips, “I love you.” 

Pran's eyes shine gold under the lanterns glow, and he drops a soft peck to Pat’s lips, “I love you too.”

---

(A/N: PatPran are back! Though I fear we may be approaching the end :"/)