Sage hummed softly in response to her comment, just shrugging and giving her a grin. "Ah, but you love my smugness," he teased her lightly, nudging her gently with his elbow. "I'd be too boring otherwise," he added, a twinkle in his eyes despite being tired for the mornings work. Of course, at her next comment he just chuckled, resting his head on her shoulder lightly. "If I pass out here just leave me there," he noted, lips twitching upwards into a sort of smile.

"I'm not sure we're making it off this couch anyway," he noted with a small yawn, amusement lacing through his voice. There were things to get done, yes, but he had promised Jora he'd slow down and...well...he was rather comfortable here with her like this. He didn't see much reason to get up. They'd just had lunch, and the house was out back together ...the baby was napping...really it was all quite nice and relaxing.

Sage sort of wriggled away from her poke, but soon enough latched back onto her, chuckling softly. "Oh, given the data I'd say you can handle me just fine," he teased lightly, letting her shift into a cozier position as she pleased. He honestly didn't care what she was doing, as long as he got his cuddles. He'd never admit it, of course, but he did need his creature comforts, and he did enjoy just laying around with her for as long as possible too. He'd want to get up and do something after a while, sure, but he'd always come back to rest in her arms, and to hold her in his.

Her next comment pulled a laugh from him, and he gave her a grin. "Oh you definitely would do that," he mused, voice laced with amusement. "And I have to say, I'd be sad if I were passed out and unable to witness it," he added with a snicker, really just amused at the thought of her dragging him around like that.

When she settled on five minutes, he snorted but didn't say anything. They both knew it would be much longer than any five minutes ....but they could say that all they wanted. Of course, if the baby were to wake in the next five minutes they'd have to get up, but that was very unlikely as she'd just been put down about fifteen minutes ago. No, they'd be there until they needed to move. And he was quite content with that.

Sage hummed as if in thought before shrugging. "I dunno, I might be," he mused. "I think I'd look rather dashing in a mustache and eyepiece, don't you," he added, clearly joking because he knew for a fact it would look absolutely rediculous. Of course, her next comment pulled a grin onto his face and he shrugged. "You never know," he chirped lightly, clearly messing around. If he was passed out he likely wouldn't be waking up just for that. But he supposed it wasn't impossible.

"Maybe, but you wouldn't," he noted next, giving her a wink. "You're too stubborn to give up halfway," he added. "You'd either leave me on the couch or tuck me in nice and snug in the bed." His eyes fluttered as he regarded her happily, still curled in. When she rested her head against him, he just moved to wrap his arm around her, squeezing her gently as the silence grew. It wasn't uncomfortable....it was quite the opposite actually, since they were both very happy to recline there with the other one.

Jora scoffed softly, rolling her eyes—but the corners of her mouth twitched upward regardless. “You? With a mustache and an eyepiece?” she muttered, the mental image alone enough to make her snort under her breath. “You’d look like a washed-up professor who lectures about sea cucumbers and forgets what day it is.” She tilted her head just enough to glance down at him. “But sure. Dashing.”

Still, her voice was warm. Teasing, but soft. Comfortable.

She raised a brow at his wink, not that he could see it with her face half-tucked against his. “You’re right. I wouldn’t leave you halfway,” she murmured. “Because halfway would mean I had to put up with you whining the next morning about how your back hurt from sleeping wrong on the couch.” She poked his side lightly, just for good measure. “And you’d act all pitiful and make those stupid eyes at me until I let you do whatever you wanted anyway.”

But then she was quiet again, arm loose around his shoulders as his settled around her. His warmth seeped into her bones. She didn’t even realize how much she’d missed this—missed him—until they were tangled together on the couch, no pressure, no looming chores or plans or responsibilities tugging them away. Just them, in the quiet.

Her thumb rubbed idly along his sleeve. “I’m glad we’re home again,” she said softly, barely more than a breath. “Really home. Feels like it’s been a while.”

She didn’t mean just physically. And she figured he’d know that.

Sage couldn't help the amused snort that forced it's way out of his nose when she described what he'd look like if he did that. "What? Sea cucumbers are cool creatures," he noted lightly. "Not everything can expel all their organs and poison the rest of the area around them," he pointed out with a shrug. Then he wrinkled his nose. "Of course, what day it is doesn't really matter out here anyway," he pointed out. That was something he never did keep very good track of.

He felt an amused smile drift across his face as she kept talking, nodding along. "My back would hurt something awful," he mused with a sort of thoughtful pout, though she likely couldn't see that. "And I probably would guilty trip you into giving me a back run," he admitted, voice laced with amusement. She never could argue with those eyes.....he'd figured that out long ago.

He let out a soft breath at her comment about being home, nodding with a hum of agreement as he pressed a kiss to her hair. "Me too. I've missed it. Missed you," he noted quietly. Then, "I'm just glad you chose me." She could have walked away, multiple times. Hell, when they'd first met again she could have killed him, or let him be killed by her men. She could have left him for dead on numerous occasions, and she had the right to. He wasn't sure he'd have stayed if he was in her shoes. But she had...she'd picked him, over and over again, and he couldn't be more grateful for it.

Jora couldn’t help the snort that escaped her when Sage started passionately defending sea cucumbers, of all things. “Of course you’d be the kind of guy to admire an animal that chucks its guts at people when it gets scared,” she muttered, clearly amused. “That tracks.” Her tone was dry, but her expression softened with something fond when he wrinkled his nose, and she found herself smiling even as she shook her head. “And yeah, tell that to Selene the next time you forget her birthday.”

She shifted just slightly, careful not to jostle him too much, and arched a brow he couldn’t see. “Oh, I know you’d guilt trip me,” she muttered, poking him again for good measure. “You’ve got that pathetic little look down to an art form. I swear, one more exaggerated sigh and the baby’s gonna pick it up and start using it on me.”

But the humor in her voice dulled at his next words.

Her breath caught for half a second, and her fingers curled more firmly around the fabric of his shirt. She didn’t say anything right away—just listened to the soft rhythm of his breathing, the weight of his arm around her, the distant hush of the island wind through the windows. Home. He said it like it meant something, like she meant something. And maybe that’s why her chest hurt a little at his words.

“I did choose you,” she murmured at last, quiet, firm. “And I keep choosing you.”

A pause.

“But,” she added, her voice sharpening slightly, “if you ever drink yourself senseless like that again—if I so much as see you trying to drown yourself in another bottle—you won’t have to worry about me walking away, Sage. I’ll just dump your sorry ass in the ocean and let you be with the sea cucumbers.”

She shifted again, just enough so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye. Her gaze was steady. Fierce. “I’m not gonna watch you break yourself again. I won’t. Not when we finally have something worth holding onto.”

And then, because she knew him, and because she didn’t want to end the moment cold, she reached up and brushed his hair back from his face gently. “So,” she muttered, her voice softening again, “you take care of yourself. Or I will find a ship. And you’ll wake up halfway to nowhere with a bucket of saltwater in your lap and a note taped to your forehead.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder again. “Sea cucumbers and all.”

Sage chuckled softly at her comment, shaking his head on quiet amusement. He supposed he held an appreciation for any sea creature....the ocean was in his blood. The way he lived his life. But he did find it rather interesting that a creature could just randomly decide to apew it guys everywhere and kill everything in like a ten foot radius. He snorted softly when she mentioned Selene's birthday, though, knowing the important dates he did keep in mind. "You know what I mean," he huffed. "I know when birthdays are, Tuesday or Wednesday it doesn't matter," he noted lightly.

Her next comments caused him to still though, and he moved to look at her, still part of him having trouble believing she was still choosing him. He knew she was, and it was silly to think she'd still choose to walk away now that they were even getting married once Jace found his way to their island but....he was still unsure of himself.

As her tone sharpened he winced slightly, though that was more because he was recalling memories he didn't really want to recall. The guilt that came with knowing he'd made some and choices. But what had he been supposed to do? People had been using him in some pretty horrific ways, and he'd thought Jora and their baby had been killed. He just didn't want to remember any of it. But Jora wasn't upset ...he knew that. She just wanted him healthy. To be a good father and husband. And he'd do his best for them all. "I know," he whispered softly. "I'm trying," he noted simply. It wouldn't be easy...he knew that. There were times he felt like he desperately needed a bottle, just since he was used to it. But Jora was there to help

Jora exhaled slowly, her cheek still pressed against his shoulder as she listened to the soft cadence of his voice. His words weren't defensive or flippant, not this time. Just honest. Just tired. And that was enough to wrap her heart in a quiet ache.

“I know you’re trying,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, less sharp. She turned her head just enough to glance at him, and reached up to rest her fingers gently against the side of his face. “And I’m not trying to rip open scars. I just…” She paused, brow furrowing slightly. “I get scared sometimes. That one day you’ll go back to that place in your head and I won’t be able to pull you out.”

She went quiet after that, not to guilt him, but to breathe—to let her thoughts settle before they twisted up her tongue. Her hand lingered at his cheek before falling back to his chest, curling loosely into the fabric of his shirt like she needed something to hold onto.

“I’ve seen what it does to you,” she continued, voice soft but firm. “The bottle. The weight. The guilt. I’m not gonna pretend I understand all of it—not really. But I know it’s not your fault. Not what they did to you. Not what they made you feel.” She gave a faint scoff, mostly to herself. “Hell, sometimes I think the only reason you didn’t break for good is because you’re too damn stubborn.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “But if you’re gonna fight for us, Sage, then I’m with you. All the way.” She nodded once, slow and steady, like a vow. “I’ll be your shield when you can’t stand. I’ll keep you grounded when your thoughts drift too far out to sea. And yeah—” her mouth twitched in a brief smirk, “—I’ll drag your drunk ass out of the ocean if I have to, but I’d rather not.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then, quieter, rawer: “I just... don’t want to lose you. Not again.”

She leaned in then, pressing a kiss to his temple—gentle, grounding—before curling herself around him again. He didn’t have to say anything if he wasn’t ready. He didn’t have to promise perfection. But if he kept choosing them—kept choosing himself, even on the hard days—then so would she.