Enri, who’d wanted to meet these two shitheads that have been, yes, more family to Darius than are most of his blood relations. (Who are the closest Darius has come to considering even ‘friends.’) (…Okay. Who are friends and family both. True.)
Enri, who’d endeavored for politeness and who won a handshake out of Sen, only to come up against the nettlesome nature of Rin Renault. Familiar to Darius, not particular disagreeable to Darius (in more than one or two ways, not far from Darius’s own nature), but abrasive to those who don’t know Rin and haven’t been prepared.
Which. The fault there lies at Darius’s feet; he ought to have prepared Enri for Rin. There had been a bit of introductory discussion about them, their club, how capricious they can be, but Darius had neglected to mention or really consider the phenomenon of first-encounters Rin. So far as he had considered it, he’d counter on Sen’s presence to soften any jolt Rin might deliver.
Darius hadn’t counted on Sen suddenly disappearing himself. (Suddenly vaulting over a couch, very dramatic, Wilkes.)
(Darius also hadn’t counted on the presence of that shithead aka Simon aka get a fucking life and go fuck your boyfriend or fiancé, whatever he is at the moment. When Darius had finally glanced toward the altercation, when Darius saw who it was that Sen was herding, there’d been a moment of what could have been panic, a moment that eased itself because agitation would do no good, would only give Enri cause for concern, and anyway, Darius had more important matters to attend to than that little fuck.
And it’s fine. It’s probably fine. Enri didn’t seem to notice, and Simon’s gone, and with a little luck, that’s the last Darius’ll ever hear of the fucker.)
Any notice Darius might have given the quarrel was quickly superseded by attentions given to Enri, and by the sudden defense Enri rallied for Darius. (Shocking Rin, staggering Rin, and it’s a wander they didn’t storm off with a single sharp word. A wonder, or it was a concerted effort on their part.)
His bold, incisive Enri. Speaking openly of happiness and love; commanding this sphere with a lift of his hand and a deliberate leveling of words. And if Darius hadn’t precisely needed the boy to speak up, it did warm him, did feel fucking gratifying.
Rin didn’t leave, Rin didn’t snap back, and it occurs to Darius that Rin has learned how to reel in their flaring temper, and/or Rin has endeavored (for Sen’s sake?) (for the sake of keeping peace?) ((Rin did say something about not really wanting to leave Darius behind again; they hadn’t needed to say it, but it hadn’t been the worst thing to hear) to rally themself and endure what must have felt like an insult, what had clearly struck them sharp.
So later. So later, Darius might thank Rin, or offer up a bribe. (Absolutely a bribe. Something strange, something rare. Morbid? Maybe. He’ll track down something.)
He ought to Sen as well, for that matter. Sen, who eased things over with Rin. (Darius caught wind of what the sap was saying (’Gross, Sen’) before tuning out the Italian in favor of setting his full focus to Enri.) Sen, who was clearly not unimpressed by Enri’s discourse. Sen, who is now reeling out his chatter, easing Rin against him and inviting fond repose.
While Sen spins his telling, Darius tosses out occasional questions or interjections, and Rin offers flourishes of detail. And not for the first time since reuniting with Sen and Rin, Darius thinks idly (Darius feels somewhere deeply) that he’d missed this, the casual bullshit and not-quite-bullshit, the camaraderie that feels like nothing forced, like an easy confab of miscreants.
The trouble right now, though, is that Enri’s caught drifting. Darius feels the boy going absent, his attentiveness turning slack, likely in spite of himself or any efforts to attend to the conversation. (Enri doesn’t have context for following this talk. Sen’s easy to listen to, but if Enri has nothing he can grasp hold of, if Enri is left with only scattered, unfamiliar pieces, doesn’t he tend to become set adrift?) It’s nothing that can be easily spotted without knowing the boy; it’d also be difficult for Darius to miss.
When Enri sets his head at Darius’s shoulder, Darius’s hand finds Enri’s hair in steady caresses. The other hand runs along Enri’s bicep, caressing, bracing. And, head cocked toward Enri’s ear, he speaks softly, little more than a whisper— ]
You’re being admirably patient, my love.
[ There’s a shift of his head and a kiss just beside Enri’s ear, and Darius thinks, he’s going to take care of this man. Take him home, to their shared sanctuary. Where nothing outside can enter unless they welcome it. Where nothing enters that they cannot surmount together.
Where there is honey. A dark-mirrored room. A bath that Darius is eager to coax Enri into, to share with him. Where there are gnashing bites to be given and agonies to be savored, driven into ecstasy. Where they might howl for one another freely.
Lingering after the kiss, Darius again speaks quietly, again for Enri only— ]
When we’re through here, Love, I’m going to take you home. To bed. To the blessing of my teeth. And you, my Puppy, are going to be justly rewarded.
[ There’s another kiss, a slow drawing away, and, catching a line in Sen’s story, Darius raises his voice, turns his head to find Sen— ]
Fuck’s name, were you tucked behind the bar again?
[ Looking to Enri, giving a dramatic eyeroll and not lowering his voice— ]
That one’s turned the bar into a private hideaway. Or so I’ve heard.
The way regulars tell it, you can sometimes hear a ghostly, ceaseless voice emanating from beneath the rows of gin and vodka.
[ To which Rin adds, arm wrapped around Sen, beaming at the noodle— ]
Ours is the most agreeable phantom. I would tolerate no other.
[ And, after a moment, looking from Sen to Darius to Enri, finding that Darius has returned to drifting kisses along Enri’s cheek, finding the boy has been silent since his (absolutely intolerable) (no, they’re not pleased, but they’ve survived worse) outburst, thinking maybe, maybe they can make amends toward being a welcoming host, Rin speaks again— ]
Granting that I might regret this— In the interest of privacy and repose, we are free to move upstairs.
[ Darius takes several moments to watch Rin, deciding there’s no particular agenda behind their asking, thinking it might, might be a little easier on Enri. Thinking, absolutely, that they’ll be freer to tend to one another upstairs. So softly, Darius speaks to Enri, voice without pressure, voice promising that no answer is a wrong answer— ]
no subject
Enri, who’d wanted to meet these two shitheads that have been, yes, more family to Darius than are most of his blood relations. (Who are the closest Darius has come to considering even ‘friends.’) (…Okay. Who are friends and family both. True.)
Enri, who’d endeavored for politeness and who won a handshake out of Sen, only to come up against the nettlesome nature of Rin Renault. Familiar to Darius, not particular disagreeable to Darius (in more than one or two ways, not far from Darius’s own nature), but abrasive to those who don’t know Rin and haven’t been prepared.
Which. The fault there lies at Darius’s feet; he ought to have prepared Enri for Rin. There had been a bit of introductory discussion about them, their club, how capricious they can be, but Darius had neglected to mention or really consider the phenomenon of first-encounters Rin. So far as he had considered it, he’d counter on Sen’s presence to soften any jolt Rin might deliver.
Darius hadn’t counted on Sen suddenly disappearing himself. (Suddenly vaulting over a couch, very dramatic, Wilkes.)
(Darius also hadn’t counted on the presence of that shithead aka Simon aka get a fucking life and go fuck your boyfriend or fiancé, whatever he is at the moment. When Darius had finally glanced toward the altercation, when Darius saw who it was that Sen was herding, there’d been a moment of what could have been panic, a moment that eased itself because agitation would do no good, would only give Enri cause for concern, and anyway, Darius had more important matters to attend to than that little fuck.
And it’s fine. It’s probably fine. Enri didn’t seem to notice, and Simon’s gone, and with a little luck, that’s the last Darius’ll ever hear of the fucker.)
Any notice Darius might have given the quarrel was quickly superseded by attentions given to Enri, and by the sudden defense Enri rallied for Darius. (Shocking Rin, staggering Rin, and it’s a wander they didn’t storm off with a single sharp word. A wonder, or it was a concerted effort on their part.)
His bold, incisive Enri. Speaking openly of happiness and love; commanding this sphere with a lift of his hand and a deliberate leveling of words. And if Darius hadn’t precisely needed the boy to speak up, it did warm him, did feel fucking gratifying.
Rin didn’t leave, Rin didn’t snap back, and it occurs to Darius that Rin has learned how to reel in their flaring temper, and/or Rin has endeavored (for Sen’s sake?) (for the sake of keeping peace?) ((Rin did say something about not really wanting to leave Darius behind again; they hadn’t needed to say it, but it hadn’t been the worst thing to hear) to rally themself and endure what must have felt like an insult, what had clearly struck them sharp.
So later. So later, Darius might thank Rin, or offer up a bribe. (Absolutely a bribe. Something strange, something rare. Morbid? Maybe. He’ll track down something.)
He ought to Sen as well, for that matter. Sen, who eased things over with Rin. (Darius caught wind of what the sap was saying (’Gross, Sen’) before tuning out the Italian in favor of setting his full focus to Enri.) Sen, who was clearly not unimpressed by Enri’s discourse. Sen, who is now reeling out his chatter, easing Rin against him and inviting fond repose.
While Sen spins his telling, Darius tosses out occasional questions or interjections, and Rin offers flourishes of detail. And not for the first time since reuniting with Sen and Rin, Darius thinks idly (Darius feels somewhere deeply) that he’d missed this, the casual bullshit and not-quite-bullshit, the camaraderie that feels like nothing forced, like an easy confab of miscreants.
The trouble right now, though, is that Enri’s caught drifting. Darius feels the boy going absent, his attentiveness turning slack, likely in spite of himself or any efforts to attend to the conversation. (Enri doesn’t have context for following this talk. Sen’s easy to listen to, but if Enri has nothing he can grasp hold of, if Enri is left with only scattered, unfamiliar pieces, doesn’t he tend to become set adrift?) It’s nothing that can be easily spotted without knowing the boy; it’d also be difficult for Darius to miss.
When Enri sets his head at Darius’s shoulder, Darius’s hand finds Enri’s hair in steady caresses. The other hand runs along Enri’s bicep, caressing, bracing. And, head cocked toward Enri’s ear, he speaks softly, little more than a whisper— ]
You’re being admirably patient, my love.
[ There’s a shift of his head and a kiss just beside Enri’s ear, and Darius thinks, he’s going to take care of this man. Take him home, to their shared sanctuary. Where nothing outside can enter unless they welcome it. Where nothing enters that they cannot surmount together.
Where there is honey. A dark-mirrored room. A bath that Darius is eager to coax Enri into, to share with him. Where there are gnashing bites to be given and agonies to be savored, driven into ecstasy. Where they might howl for one another freely.
Lingering after the kiss, Darius again speaks quietly, again for Enri only— ]
When we’re through here, Love, I’m going to take you home. To bed. To the blessing of my teeth. And you, my Puppy, are going to be justly rewarded.
[ There’s another kiss, a slow drawing away, and, catching a line in Sen’s story, Darius raises his voice, turns his head to find Sen— ]
Fuck’s name, were you tucked behind the bar again?
[ Looking to Enri, giving a dramatic eyeroll and not lowering his voice— ]
That one’s turned the bar into a private hideaway. Or so I’ve heard.
The way regulars tell it, you can sometimes hear a ghostly, ceaseless voice emanating from beneath the rows of gin and vodka.
[ To which Rin adds, arm wrapped around Sen, beaming at the noodle— ]
Ours is the most agreeable phantom. I would tolerate no other.
[ And, after a moment, looking from Sen to Darius to Enri, finding that Darius has returned to drifting kisses along Enri’s cheek, finding the boy has been silent since his (absolutely intolerable) (no, they’re not pleased, but they’ve survived worse) outburst, thinking maybe, maybe they can make amends toward being a welcoming host, Rin speaks again— ]
Granting that I might regret this— In the interest of privacy and repose, we are free to move upstairs.
[ Darius takes several moments to watch Rin, deciding there’s no particular agenda behind their asking, thinking it might, might be a little easier on Enri. Thinking, absolutely, that they’ll be freer to tend to one another upstairs. So softly, Darius speaks to Enri, voice without pressure, voice promising that no answer is a wrong answer— ]
What do you think, Enri? Shall we ascend?
We need only stay as long as you like.