[ A few things occur to Darius in quick succession—
One: Shit, he’s going to fucking owe Rin for that averted horse joke. A conviction solidified when Rin settles a brief glance on him with the barest, barest goddamn hint of a grin.
Well, whatever. So he owes Rin one. Whatever. Worth it.
Second: Those two look as though they’ve been married for years.
Third: He enjoys this very much, simply sitting with Enri, the boy’s arms around his waist.
Fourth: There are raised voices nearby, words indiscernible over the club’s noise; probably this is whatever upset Rin was referring to.
Darius doesn’t bother to look toward the source of the disruption. Doesn’t give a shit’s worth of a damn about whatever squabble’s got some asshole worked up, though vaguely, vaguely, he thinks he might know the anger-edged voice that almost bites through the crowd. Whoever the voice belongs to, it’s not worth his effort to parse. Let Rin and Sen deal with the club, and anyway, Darius is busy tracking Enri’s reactions.
Something’s wrong. Something’s unsettled in Enri, a piece jarred out of place sometime following Rin’s entrance. It’s in Enri’s body, in the precise hold of his muscles, in perhaps a catch in his throat or slightly altered pulse. It’s in a feeling of distance, and that sets Darius looking back to catch Enri’s eyes, sets Darius placing a hand over Enri’s wrist, letting his thumb caress slowly, back and forth.
At first, Darius supposes it might be Rin’s scrutiny, always a little too openly invasive, curious and unsparing. But Enri speaks, and Darius hears clearly the statement beneath the question: that Enri doesn’t like the way he’s being treated, that Enri sees he’s been cut out, that he feels as if he’s being treated as less than, as stupid, as unworthy.
Christ. Rin never was much good with first impressions. True, they’ve learned a few things over time, but they’ve dropped the fucking ball here, where it matters, and nicked Enri in an oft-assaulted sore spot. Darius wraps his arm over Enri’s, presses acknowledgment, as if to say ’I hear you, Puppy,’ and ’Daddy’s here.’
Meanwhile, Rin’s glance is tinted with surprise, as if it hadn’t occurred to them that Enri might hear and remark on their comment. They blink at Enri, shoot a glance at Sen, then offer an easy lift of their shoulder. ]
French.
[ Darius shakes his head and turns, leans in to kiss Enri’s cheek, to briefly tug at Enri’s ear. To find and hold Enri’s eyes as he caresses the boy’s jaw. His own eyes offering certainty, offering trust. His expression flickered with anger for Enri’s sake. His eyes speaking as well of approval, because Enri found a way to let Darius know his upset, and because Enri has been performing admirably in meeting Sen and Rin. Voice hushed, Darius speaks a secret for his ears and Enri’s only. ]
You’re doing very well, my love. You’re making Daddy terribly proud.
[ And Enri is; he absolutely is. His choice to call Sen by his surname-to-be; his use of Mr. and Mx. Renault. The boy is tipsy, and still he performs with admirable poise (and seems to have drawn some favor from Sen, who allowed Enri to take his hand, who dared that never-easy-for-Sen act, and sure, yeah, Darius felt a warmth of appreciation for Sen, sure), still he fights against nagging, gnawing feelings to present an agreeable face. And. And he’s been so careful about checking in with Darius; offered comfort when Sen dealt the pretty-much-accustomed swat. Quietly assured Darius he wasn’t going to pursue that fuck-forsaken horse joke.
There’s a kiss for Enri’s lips, and Darus turns back to the shitheads, frowning. Thinking it unlikely that Rin meant anything particularly dismissive; thinking as well that intention matters little when Enri has been hurt. So Darius’s attention settles on Rin, currently occupied with speaking something toward Sen’s ear. And Darius clears his throat, eyebrow raised, still settled on Enri’s lap. ]
About that French.
There’s no cause for playing clandestine, Renault. Everything you say in front of me, you’ll say to Enri.
He’s a clever man. He can take it.
[ Rin rolls their eyes, waving a hand as if in dismissal and shaking their head. Thinking, likely, that this is a case of Darius being a stubborn shithead. ]
Yes, but will I advertise it to the floor at large? Don’t be an asshole.
[ Eyes widening almost imperceptibly at their lapse back into French, they toss their head, then nod toward Enri, attempting agreeability, afterward directing the translation at Darius. ]
Pardon— That is, ‘Don’t be an asshole.’
Some affairs are better not publicly advertised.
[ A shrug from Darius, who again winds his arm around Enri’s, who presses Enri’s arm closer to him. ]
no subject
One: Shit, he’s going to fucking owe Rin for that averted horse joke. A conviction solidified when Rin settles a brief glance on him with the barest, barest goddamn hint of a grin.
Well, whatever. So he owes Rin one. Whatever. Worth it.
Second: Those two look as though they’ve been married for years.
Third: He enjoys this very much, simply sitting with Enri, the boy’s arms around his waist.
Fourth: There are raised voices nearby, words indiscernible over the club’s noise; probably this is whatever upset Rin was referring to.
Darius doesn’t bother to look toward the source of the disruption. Doesn’t give a shit’s worth of a damn about whatever squabble’s got some asshole worked up, though vaguely, vaguely, he thinks he might know the anger-edged voice that almost bites through the crowd. Whoever the voice belongs to, it’s not worth his effort to parse. Let Rin and Sen deal with the club, and anyway, Darius is busy tracking Enri’s reactions.
Something’s wrong. Something’s unsettled in Enri, a piece jarred out of place sometime following Rin’s entrance. It’s in Enri’s body, in the precise hold of his muscles, in perhaps a catch in his throat or slightly altered pulse. It’s in a feeling of distance, and that sets Darius looking back to catch Enri’s eyes, sets Darius placing a hand over Enri’s wrist, letting his thumb caress slowly, back and forth.
At first, Darius supposes it might be Rin’s scrutiny, always a little too openly invasive, curious and unsparing. But Enri speaks, and Darius hears clearly the statement beneath the question: that Enri doesn’t like the way he’s being treated, that Enri sees he’s been cut out, that he feels as if he’s being treated as less than, as stupid, as unworthy.
Christ. Rin never was much good with first impressions. True, they’ve learned a few things over time, but they’ve dropped the fucking ball here, where it matters, and nicked Enri in an oft-assaulted sore spot. Darius wraps his arm over Enri’s, presses acknowledgment, as if to say ’I hear you, Puppy,’ and ’Daddy’s here.’
Meanwhile, Rin’s glance is tinted with surprise, as if it hadn’t occurred to them that Enri might hear and remark on their comment. They blink at Enri, shoot a glance at Sen, then offer an easy lift of their shoulder. ]
French.
[ Darius shakes his head and turns, leans in to kiss Enri’s cheek, to briefly tug at Enri’s ear. To find and hold Enri’s eyes as he caresses the boy’s jaw. His own eyes offering certainty, offering trust. His expression flickered with anger for Enri’s sake. His eyes speaking as well of approval, because Enri found a way to let Darius know his upset, and because Enri has been performing admirably in meeting Sen and Rin.
Voice hushed, Darius speaks a secret for his ears and Enri’s only. ]
You’re doing very well, my love. You’re making Daddy terribly proud.
[ And Enri is; he absolutely is. His choice to call Sen by his surname-to-be; his use of Mr. and Mx. Renault. The boy is tipsy, and still he performs with admirable poise (and seems to have drawn some favor from Sen, who allowed Enri to take his hand, who dared that never-easy-for-Sen act, and sure, yeah, Darius felt a warmth of appreciation for Sen, sure), still he fights against nagging, gnawing feelings to present an agreeable face. And. And he’s been so careful about checking in with Darius; offered comfort when Sen dealt the pretty-much-accustomed swat. Quietly assured Darius he wasn’t going to pursue that fuck-forsaken horse joke.
There’s a kiss for Enri’s lips, and Darus turns back to the shitheads, frowning. Thinking it unlikely that Rin meant anything particularly dismissive; thinking as well that intention matters little when Enri has been hurt. So Darius’s attention settles on Rin, currently occupied with speaking something toward Sen’s ear. And Darius clears his throat, eyebrow raised, still settled on Enri’s lap. ]
About that French.
There’s no cause for playing clandestine, Renault. Everything you say in front of me, you’ll say to Enri.
He’s a clever man. He can take it.
[ Rin rolls their eyes, waving a hand as if in dismissal and shaking their head. Thinking, likely, that this is a case of Darius being a stubborn shithead. ]
Yes, but will I advertise it to the floor at large? Don’t be an asshole.
[ Eyes widening almost imperceptibly at their lapse back into French, they toss their head, then nod toward Enri, attempting agreeability, afterward directing the translation at Darius. ]
Pardon— That is, ‘Don’t be an asshole.’
Some affairs are better not publicly advertised.
[ A shrug from Darius, who again winds his arm around Enri’s, who presses Enri’s arm closer to him. ]
Then use your ‘inside the group’ voice, Rin.