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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[cozen]

[ A flicker of relief. Some of it is fairly selfless—relief that maybe By won’t be in danger, especially without Bastien there to guard his flank. The rest is an easing of jealousy. Partway. On the heels of the relief comes a little skepticism and a silent frown that’s asking for elaboration. ]

[bouchonne]

I've -

[ He huffs out a breath, mingled embarrassment and uncertainty. ]

First, I've never done much that's daring. I know I've - told a few stories - but the majority of my spying career has always been just sitting around in taverns eavesdropping unsuccessfully on people while the Crown covers my bill. And I won't even be able to do that once I'm back in Fereldan - you know - Much of my cover depended upon being perceived as a useless lout. Even if my career isn't known, my cover is still blown.

[cozen]

Good.

[ Emphatic. He has no affection for Byerly’s old way of doing things—not because it wasn’t effective, but for how poorly it let so many people treat him.

As for the rest of it.

He slides a hand to the scar Byerly took away from the Battle of Ghislain, before Bastien had ever arrived. And he says, ]

Baiting those Crows was daring.

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ Byerly reaches down to caress Bastien's wrist. And he confesses: ]

It was.

[ And, even though he wants to claim that it's not, that he regrets that daring, he can't be dishonest. Not when Bastien is being so open. ]

And it was exciting. Being that daring.

[cozen]

[ A nod. It would have been horrible if anything had gone wrong, of course. But it didn't. And here they are. ]

You are a better fighter than you like people to think. And much braver. In those dreams, you were—stealing airships. Darting off to Tevinter. Breaking into my shop though you knew what I was and trying to bait me. [ There's affection in that now. He's far enough away from the unsettling feeling of knowing Byerly and not liking him to think back on it all a little fondly. The cheek. ] I know they were only dreams, but I suppose I thought it was what you wanted. Parts of it.

[bouchonne]

I want it -

[ He thinks about it a moment, and then hits upon a tidy little analogy. He meets Bastien's eyes, and shrugs, and smiles wryly. ]

Like I want a drink.

[ He reaches up, then, to caress Bastien's cheek. ]

Is it something you want? That you need? I know I asked you to step back...Was that unfair of me?

[cozen]

[ That tidy analogy is perfect. Not only because it clarifies things so well, but also because it reminds Bastien that he's asked Byerly to give up something, too, and By did it without complaint or fuss, if not without struggle.

They're different, of course. But not that different. Two things they'd both been doing most of their lives, frequently fun, sometimes useful, likely deadly in the end. ]

No.

[ He means it. The look in his eyes has shifted into something more at ease, if not quite happy, as he's tilting to press his cheek into By's hand. Stay safe with me has a much different flavor than stay behind. ]

No. Not at all. I'd have asked it, too, in your shoes. I'd have tied you to a chair the next time you tried to go do something scary.

[ Not really. (Unless?) ]

[bouchonne]

Oh, promises.

[ Teasing. Sexily teasing. They have slightly higher priorities than getting lost to flirting right now, though, so: ]

It is selfish. I want as much of you as I can get, for as long as I can get it. So you earn the right to ask selfish things of me in return.

[ Okay, a bit of flirting: ]

And there are other ways to get your pulse racing.

[cozen]

[ It is selfish, Byerly says, and Bastien registers his protest by opening his mouth and biting his hand, in a smushed and ineffectual way. But he doesn't argue, this time, because he's busy smiling and nodding (also in a smushed way). ]

Duets.

[ Like it's a filthy proposition.

It kind of is.

But any risk of his comfortable warmth turning back into heat is promptly stamped out by Whiskey heaving a heavy sigh. It cannot actually be the long-suffering sigh of a teenaged daughter tired of listening to her parents flirt and praying to the Maker they don't start making out while she's in the room, because she can't understand them and is also asleep. But it's close enough.

The look Bastien tries to shoot down her way is affectionate, not annoyed. ]

Your dreams must be getting bigger, [ he says, less flirty, ] if you need a pamphleteer now.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ By snakes his feet out from under the blankets to poke his toes into Whiskey's side. She snuffles but doesn't wake. (There is not much that she wakes up for. She might be the laziest creature alive.) ]

Political action. I used to think that sort of thing was for idiots. That the only thing that ever changed was what you changed yourself.

[cozen]

[ If before Bastien's face went from rainstorm to calmly overcast, here's the sun breaking through: his smile a little wider, his eyes brighter with pride and curiosity even in the dim light. ]

You've changed your mind?

[bouchonne]

Not precisely. Others have changed my mind.

[ His glance at Bastien is pointed. ]

[cozen]

[ Bastien catches his meaning, of course. He winds in closer again, pleased with himself now as well as with Byerly. But while he nods, he says, dry and coy, ]

The mages.

[bouchonne]

[ That startles a snort out of him. You imp. ]

Yes, with their diplomacy and measured approach to understanding others' points of view.

[cozen]

Those things, yes.

[ He worms close enough to pepper the side of By's head with a few chicken peck kisses. ]

And, [ more sincerely, ] their belief that the world might change for them if they insist. They might be right.

[bouchonne]

Hm.

[ Byerly considers that a moment. He can't not offer a rather scathing - ]

It's utter arrogance, of course.

[cozen]

[ He stays close, smiling. By's charming when he's spiky. ]

Which part?

[bouchonne]

The way they go about things. Make no mistake, I don't mind their determination. But I do mind their arrogance. Acting like you're unreasonable - mad, even - because you don't see things their way.

[cozen]

[ A hum, agreeable and fond, and Bastien shifts fully onto his side to look at By. (His earlier indecision about which side of the bed to claim has been settled instinctively and undramatically—perhaps with some quiet accommodation from Byerly—by which side allows him to face Byerly without having to bury his good ear in the pillow.) ]

Maybe it is in the blood, after all those ages of mages who had their way about everything. Or maybe we only get the difficult ones, in Riftwatch.

Maybe they think the same about us.

[ Or— ]

About you. [ With faintly amused apology for his chronic agreeability, ] Enchanter Marcus gave me a Satinalia gift.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly’s look is fondly exasperated. ]

What kind of gift?

[cozen]

Mulling spices, for wine.

[ Which he has been quite cheerfully abstaining from, in solidarity. ]

I gave them to Leonard. I am going to wait until I'm sure he has used them to tell him they were assembled by a mage. He will be sure that he's been enchanted somehow.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly had been about to tell Bastien that, of course, he's more than free to use those spices, that he doesn't need to be so disciplined all the time - but he pauses to laugh. ]

Oh, you must do it while I'm there! You naughty creature. He'll choke!

[cozen]

Of course you must be there. And if you see an opening to mention it to him before me, by all means.

[ He rubs his thumb against the patch of hair beneath By's mouth before resting his hand against his face. While they're paused, ]

I loved you as you were, you know, when we started. Before we started. You could drink all the time and be the world's most passionate royalist, and you would still be the great love of my life. But you keep making me even luckier to have you.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly laughs, and says - ]

You should have told me earlier. I wouldn't have worked as hard.

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs back. ]

No, I think you would have still.

[ He skritches his fingers into By’s hair. And unpause: ]

I think it was because of Fitcher. The spices. I’m sure he doesn’t actually like me.

Did I tell you I went and had drinks with Derrica?