contact part deux

[bouchonne]

if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message

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[bouchonne]

[ Hm. ]

I suppose you're not wrong about that.

[cozen]

—and this could all be leading to some surprise. Jilting. Drama. Or the usual attempted murder or kidnapping. Wouldn’t you hate to miss that?

[bouchonne]

Maker, yes. You know I love drama.

[cozen]

Then you will do it?

[bouchonne]

[ A beat, then: ]

Screw it. Yes. And if it displeases Miss Poppell, maybe it'll teach her a lesson about actually giving voice to her wants, instead of silently resenting people when they don't magically divine them from her mind.

[cozen]

That's the spirit.

[ Kinda? ]

[bouchonne]

We're going to sing many songs about cuckoldry, though. Just so you know.

[cozen]

[ Laughing: ]

No more than three.

[ And still sort of laughing: ]

I am not sure I am going, but if I hear you did a dozen... I'll find a punishment that you don't think is sexy. Somehow.

[bouchonne]

[ Hold on. ]

What do you mean, you're not sure?

[cozen]

Oh, you know.

[ Having someone he tries not to lie to is terrible. His pause is for struggling not to change his mind about that stupid secret rule. ]

If it were a meeting or a mission, that would be one thing, but it's a wedding! It's drinking and dancing, and it is very hard to play with you without flirting with you. [ His dramatically overwhelmed clenched fist is invisible, but his voice matches it. ] That voice, those hands.

—and it's camping. Which probably means sleeping. Deciding where to sleep. I don't want to make things hard for Alexandrie. [ Cheerfully, ] Or for myself.

Don't you dare say that you will not go now.

[bouchonne]

Bastien -

[ He's both frustrated - at Bastien, at himself, at this damned situation - and also touched, and fluttery over that praise for his hands. ]

I'm not going without you.

[cozen]

[ Bastien wasn’t fishing for that, and he wouldn’t have thought he wanted to hear it. What he wants is for Byerly to spend time more than a couple miles away from his office for something entirely unrelated to his work, losing himself the way he does sometimes with music, and being there for a young woman who he certainly cares about more than Bastien does, even if he likes her less.

But still. It’s unexpectedly nice to hear. Enough so that it takes Bastien a second to muster up further resistance. ]

What if I spend the whole time writing you a song so full of longing adoration it’s as if you have been away for a year?

[bouchonne]

Ha. Tempting.

[ But. ]

But I want you there. To give me courage. And to remind me not to be a shitass.

[cozen]

[ This time the silence is several seconds. ]

Now, that isn’t fair. I had to try fifteen different points to convince you— [ hyperbole ] —and you managed in two.

[ He doesn’t sound bothered, though. He’s aware he’s a sucker. ]

But I have conditions.

[bouchonne]

Name them.

[ He relaxes, relieved. The conditions - Well, they'll be reasonable. It's Bastien. ]

[cozen]

The first is that if Monsieur de Foncé seems to think the cuckolding songs are funny, we have to stop. I like him.

[bouchonne]

[ A disappointed cluck of his tongue. But: ]

As you wish.

pencils essential missing "not" into last tag

[cozen]

Merci, chéri.

The second is that you come stay with me the night before. Then during the wedding, if there are times when you feel like you have to choose, you choose her, and you don't worry about me or look apologetic or anything like that, because you will have taken very good care of me the night before and I will still be up in the clouds about it.

Or the night before the night before. Or whatever night works for your schedule. I can keep floating at least three days.

I knew what you meant

[bouchonne]

[ He takes a deep breath - and then, well. No. He's not going to be able to will them into a perfect balance. All he can do is listen to them, and try to give them what they need from him. ]

I'll screw you so tenderly.

good x_x

[cozen]

[ Between relief at not having to have the discussion that breath seemed to portend and tickled surprise at what Byerly says instead, Bastien winds up laughing—like a schoolboy, even, despite having never been one. ]

I love you, [ is half-laughter and said offhand, like a thank you. ] And those are the only conditions. We have a deal.

[bouchonne]

[ Ah. Flutters. ]

I love you.

[ Earnestly said. Not remotely offhand. But then, lightly: ]

We should spit into our palms and shake on it.

[cozen]

On our love?

[ Obviously not. He’s teasing—and a little muffled, because he’s grinning pleased into his fist. ]

Be careful. Where I grew up that was a wedding.

[bouchonne]

Maybe we should ruin this upcoming ceremony that way.

[ He grins in return. ]

Shove Wysteria and her beau out of the way. Declare, this wedding is ours! And then just aggressively spit.

[cozen]

[ Bastien snickers at length before cutting himself off. ]

No, [ he isn’t ruining anything, he isn’t making even clearly outrageous and impossible-for-several-reasons marriage jokes in front of Alexandrie unless she’s included, and most importantly, ] Madame de Cedoux will be there. She can never know that we spit. She can’t know we have saliva at all.

[bouchonne]

[ By laughs, doubly grateful for the hilarious joke and the graceful pivot away from that rather dangerous topic. ]

Oh, come now, she's so little. What's she going to do, fight us? We could take her.