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

Comments

[bouchonne]

Absolutely you're still allowed to do that. You know I adore it when you have the vapours.

[ He scratches lightly at his neck, up and down, as one would to a beloved cat. Or fox. ]

I love catching you in a swoon.

[cozen]

[ Bastien grins, sighs happily— ] Mon héros. [ —and then hitches his gut and squirms when Byerly's fingers return to the upper region of his neck for the second or third time. The ghost of his ticklish past, taking advantage of how utterly unguarded he is to seize brief possession of his body.

It's not a bad thing. But it does surprise him, and once he's paying attention, there's no stopping the faint tension of control from seeping back in.

All very subtle, barely conscious. He's still grinning. ]

You might even be tied with the Black Fox.

[bouchonne]

What!

[ Byerly's gasp is theatrical, the playfulness undiminished. But he notices that tension; his hand drifts up, leaving Bastien's neck to return to the safer(?) region of his scalp. ]

This honor - Maker, I cannot - Never have I heard such a thing come from your lips. I need to get a tattoo. I need to get eight tattoos.

[ And then there's a slight ebbing of the mock-shock, and he narrows his eyes slightly and tips his head incrementally to the side - do you want to talk about that? is a signal subtly given, but it's Bastien. So. ]

[cozen]

[ In his tittering over the idea of Byerly with eight tattoos, each finding a new way to depict his equality with the Black Fox, Bastien could at least pretend not to notice the look. If it were something he didn't want to talk about, or if he were willing to maybe leave By with the impression he did something wrong or stumbled on something traumatic.

He shakes his head, but it doesn't mean no. ]

It's nothing. [ With the same faint embarrassment as if he were admitting to having a security blanket or silly childhood nickname: ] I used to be very ticklish.

[bouchonne]

[ Ah, that's so cute. ]

And you were tormented by your siblings, I suppose?

[cozen]

Ha. They wish.

[ He peels himself off of By's shoulder to lean forward, as far as he can without standing up, to see what's on his desk. Only enough nosiness to be sure he isn't interrupting something very important, before he gets into it.

It being: ]

Amina, Anis, Lyes, and Eliya. Those are their names. Amina is older—she was tired. Poor thing. The rest are younger. Anis was sickly and acerbic—sometimes you remind me of him, when you are in a mood. Lyes was the most like me. He followed me around whenever he could. And Eliya was seven the last time I saw her. She'll be— [ a pause, to fend off misery ] —Athessa's age now, give or take. She wanted to join the army for the hats.

[ Unceremonious, this disclosure, but he means it as a gift. Something only ever given away in brief comments and implications, held now in an open palm so the whole outline is visible. ]

I hope you get to meet them. [ Wryly, ] If they are alive. Anis threatened to die every time he was annoyed. Maybe he made good on it.

[bouchonne]

[ It is a gift. He doesn't know what he's done to earn it - if, indeed, it was a matter of something to be earned. Sometimes Bastien simply gives gifts without expectation or demand. So. ]

I hope I get to meet them, too.

[ By tucks his chin up against the crown of Bastien's head. ]

If for no other reason to see whether you're the handsomest of your family.

[cozen]

If you leave me for one of my siblings, I'll be very cross. [ He's not remotely worried. ] I might turn evil.

[bouchonne]

Ooh.

[ He casts a look at Bastien, because of course the thought of Evil Bastien is going to earn a look. Strutting around wickedly? Probably wearing leather? Yes please. ]

You tempt me with a threat like that, you vixen. I curse the fact that I'm so deeply, irrevocably, faithfully in love with you.

[cozen]

[ They're going on two years and several hundred I love yous between them, but sometimes Bastien still blushes. This is one of those times. But he insists gamely on looking suave and a little bit evil despite it. ]

I am certain I can find another excuse, mon chaton.

[ He touches By's pretty mouth with his fingertips. ]

Put a hot cup on top of one of my books and who knows what sort of villain I'll become.

[bouchonne]

[ A tender little nibble to Bastien's index finger. ]

I'll be sure to steep some tea tonight.

[ But, less sexily... ]

Have you decided? To track them down?

[cozen]

Sooner or later. I know Kaiten is practically nothing, but surely eventually we will have to talk to someone there, and I can volunteer, if I'm...

[ He sticks his nibbled finger into By's mouth, just far enough to roll his lower lip down into a pout, and gives him the truth. ]

I don't want to until you've heard from your sister.

[bouchonne]

Ah.

[ A ripple of confusion. ]

Why not?

[cozen]

I am a selfish coward and I want proof it's possible.

[ That's half of it. The other half: ]

And it would be horrible if I did have them and you didn't have her. I think you will, I really do, or I wouldn't have pushed you about it. But you've always gotten so much less than you deserve, and I get more than I deserve, every time. I couldn't stand it.

[bouchonne]

Maker, that's not -

[ Byerly's hand comes up to cup Bastien's face. His grip is fierce. ]

That is not true. More than you deserve - You haven't gotten half of what you deserve. You deserve more than the world, Bastien. And if there were something that made you happy - I wouldn't be envious.

[ For a moment, a flicker of doubt. Wouldn't he? He pushes it down, denies it. ]

The fact that you'd have it at all would be - beyond good. And I don't want my - situation - to keep you from what you deserve.

[cozen]

[ Bastien turns his head to kiss By's hand, squashing his cheek and mouth as required, and smiles with his eyes. ]

I know you don't. And now I really have to look for them, or you will blame yourself.

[ He leans his head the other way, to snuggle back into Byerly's shoulder, and sends his free hand around to join the other in holding him by the waist. ]

But I'll be so much more excited about it if I know things have worked out for you first, so let me wait a little longer. One more month.

[bouchonne]

One more month.

[ And then, a grim little joke - anxious, unhappy, but a joke. ]

And then if it doesn't work out, I could use a little extra family.

[cozen]

[ The smile spreads to his mouth. It's getting ahead of things, of course, to assume he'll find them, and assume they'll want anything to do with him, and assume the inevitable initial awkward distance will be bridged and it will ever really be anything like having a family. But he can imagine this part clearly: introducing Byerly to people who matter, without any diplomatic calculations or cover stories or preexisting dislike or wariness to contend with, with all his love and pride out in the open. He's never been able to before. He wants to. ]

What's mine is yours.

[ Cheesy. True. Except for the books, the books are his. And the cello.

Anyway. ]

And if it does not work out for either of us, we will get five more dogs right away.

[bouchonne]

[ He rubs his cheek briefly against Bastien, like an affectionate cat. Or a possessive one. Cats' affection is often the same thing as possessiveness. ]

And maybe a few street urchins. I feel like we could teach a few pickpockets how to run more ambitious scams.

[ A half-joking suggestion which is, of course, rather adjacent to fatherhood - But he's not going to examine that too closely. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien snickers. It's a much more appealing idea than a baby—but Byerly was so certain and mildly panicked about the concept of children before, he can only assume it is a fully-joking suggestion. ]

Burrz and Bah's School for Ne'er-Do-Wells.

[bouchonne]

We could have a whole squadron of sweet-faced youngsters with incredible skills in arithmetic and lying.

[cozen]

And music.

[ His legs are falling asleep. He does not care. ]

Especially music. You ought to really do that, someday—pass along some of that talent.

[bouchonne]

What - Teach?

[ The idea has, evidently, from his tone, never occurred to him. ]

[cozen]

Maybe. If we ever come across anyone with enough promise that it won't be pure frustration.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ It's an interesting idea. ]

I did give music lessons for money, back in earlier times, but they were - you know - music lessons.

[ Said more with a bit of drollness rather than a wink-wink-nudge-nudge attitude. A job is a job, after all, and even though that sort of work seems titillating it's still, in truth, work. ]