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]

Ehh.

[ Yes. No. Yes. ]

They didn’t forget about me. They were looking for me, and I tried to call the bluff when I shouldn’t have.

[ Whatever crumbling he’s done before while Byerly held onto him in the dark, in the daylight, making coffee, he’d still rather it be his fault. His choice. He leaves first — that’s the rule. And if that’s separately relevant to the argument he is trying to avoid here, shut up, no it’s not.

When Byerly’s close enough he kisses Rat Red on the head and puts her down so he has an arm to cinch around Byerly’s waist instead. ]

And, [ new and better subject, ] I don’t think you are selfish or weak. I think we both have big stupid walls and we needed the cracks to align just right for this to happen. That’s all.

[bouchonne]

I think -

[ The romantic burbling up from within him as he relaxes into Bastien's touch - ]

That I would never not fall in love with you. Not as I am now, and not as you are now.

[cozen]

Sap.

[ That's what he says. What he does is tuck and turn his head into Byerly's shoulder, eyes shut while there's nothing left to do about coffee until the water boils. He's not sure he believes it. He's not sure he can trust this to last forever. But he has it now.

After a moment — ]

It would have been different if you were the only one who didn't remember.

[bouchonne]

Yeah?

[ His hand comes up to scratch slowly and regularly at Bastien’s scalp. He supposes he ought to kiss him. Do something passionate. But what he wants is this comfort. ]

How so?

[cozen]

[ His shrug is small and careful not to jostle or interrupt. ]

I would have had help. If you remembered anyone else they could tell you to believe me. If you didn't they could tell me I wasn't making it all up. I would still have all the other parts of my life.

I am not going to leave you if you start to forget things when we're old.

[bouchonne]

Mm.

[ Is that the truth? Maker, Byerly doesn’t want to die alone, when the time comes. He wants to have someone by his side. He wants that someone to be Bastien. ]

I know it’s not fair of me. To stand in judgment over you, when you were forced into this circumstance without warning.

[cozen]

[ That's right. These things happen and Byerly is dead, or Byerly doesn't remember, and in any case Byerly doesn't have to actually deal with any of it. By the time he knows what's happened it's over, like he slept through a fire, and there's only some cleaning up to do.

But that's wrong, too. Byerly has the right to judge. He has the right to want certainty when he needs it most, when things are hard instead of easy. What's the point of all of this — the house, the routines, the promises — if Bastien can't give that to him?

At the end of those clear thoughts there's something wordless. An inarticulable morass of feeling stunted and cracked. Bastien exhales through it, hot breath warming his own face when it's caught against Byerly's shoulder. ]

I don't know how to be better at this.

[bouchonne]

[ He doesn't quite follow the thought. He should, of course; how many times has he himself discussed his ability to do this or cope with everything, the vague words substituting in for the things too vulnerable to name? But Bastien is good at this. He's kind and warm and steady. The moments when things have been bad - all of this, the fight over the dogs - have been so few and far between, and only in extremity. So this can't possibly apply to their relationship. ]

Dealing with magic?

[ The water is boiling; Byerly takes over the next steps of making coffee, not wanting to turn Bastien's face away from him. ]

[cozen]

[ A huff. ]

That too.

[ Bastien does turn his head, but only far enough to watch Byerly work from the very corner of his nearest eye. Pretty hands. ]

But also not — [ what, what is it he keeps doing ] — pulling away. Running away.

[bouchonne]

[ Just a few minutes before, By had been furious with him for doing just that; now he defends him from his own self-recrimination. ]

Says the man who’s been faithful and steadfast for years now. And not just to me. To this motley band of fools, too.

[cozen]

By.

[ Come on.

But it’s kind of him, too, so however weary and chiding Bastien’s tone may be, his arm is squeezing tighter around his waist. ]

[bouchonne]

What? Scold me all you like. I stand by it. This is the exception.

[ He takes a break from his preparations to give Bastien’s earlobe a light squeeze. ]

And the circumstances aren’t normal.

[cozen]

[ A kiss to his shoulder, where Bastien's face is still pressed. ]

The exceptions matter. Who people are when they're pushed, it matters.

And, [ less philosophically, ] a few minutes ago you were furious.

[bouchonne]

And now I’m done being furious.

[cozen]

You’re going to make me furious.

[ He doesn’t sound furious. A little grumbly, maybe, in a fond way. He’s never been the kind of person to quibble about whether he deserves something nice, be it the contents of someone’s safe or entirely unwarranted forgiveness. Take what you can get when you can get it, to make up for the times you can’t —

He lifts his head to pull Byerly’s down by the neck and kiss him on the mouth. ]

You deserve to be fought for.

[bouchonne]

Ah.

[ That's all he offers in terms of demurring - just a little noise that gives some indication of well I don't know about that. Any more than that is likely to make Bastien even more "furious" still. ]

Now, now. Don't make this all about me.

[cozen]

It’s about us.

[ While he has it pulled toward him already, he examines Byerly’s face. Just for a moment, before he lets go. There’s coffee to pour.

An attempt at some levity: ]

I did let you drug me. I let you make an honest, earnest man out of me. So you have to know I love you, right?

[bouchonne]

That, I never doubt. Truly, I don’t.

[ He meets that levity with earnestness. As he takes up the coffee, he says: ]

But I do know that…Well. You lived a life of freedom for a very long time. I know that none of this is your natural state.

[cozen]

[ Coffee midway from counter to mouth, Bastien pauses, considering that. It's not a way he's thought about himself. But he isn't very good at thinking about himself — analytically, anyway — so — ]

Yeah.

[ A long drink. A savoring swallow. ]

There's not anything in me that wants to be free of you. Do you doubt that?

[bouchonne]

Of course not.

[ Well. ]

Usually not.

[cozen]

[ Ruminative: ] Usually not.

[ Another drink, quicker this time. ]

Then I am falling down on the job.

[bouchonne]

Ah, it’s my fault that I doubt. Not yours.

[ He swirls his coffee and drinks, a light sip. It tastes quite fine, in spite of the fact that he’d made it with some distraction. ]

I’ll not permit you to blame yourself.

[cozen]

[ Bastien tilts his head slowly to the side, eyes sharp with a focus that means he is not letting that go. But he's smiling, too. ]

You aren't the boss of me anymore.

[ Hip against the worktop, hand on Byerly's chest to give his shirtfront a wiggly little tug. ]

Except when it is fun.

[bouchonne]

Ooh.

[ Byerly turns on the smoulder, grasping Bastien’s wrist and leaning him back a little further over the worktop. ]

I’d be bossing you around right now, sensually, if I didn’t reek so badly.

[cozen]

[ Bastien laughs — like it's funny, but not like it's funny. It can be a joke and hot at the same time. And thank the Maker for that, because it's the basis of the majority of their sex life. ]

Mm, it's not that bad.

[ Having just had his face against Byerly for a prolonged stretch of seconds, he doesn't need to sniff again to be sure.

Back to business though: he twists his wrist in By's grip to grab hold of his hand instead. ]

And it isn't your fault.