[ Darius doesn’t bother to hide his mirth at Sen’s surprise. Doesn’t curb a laugh - brief but bright, just short of raucous - when the man’s eyes go wide, when Sen gets that look so very endemic to Sens who’ve been caught off-guard and limping.
Fair enough; Darius wouldn’t have been eager for anyone to know Jaeger’d smashed his nose, or landed a solid hit anywhere. Which Jaegar had in fact never done. Darius has been hit by plenty of shitheads, but that particular piece of work’d never been among their number.
Thank fuck.
And also, and again, by what work of fucking miracle is that shitheel still among the living?
The night of the broken nose - and the lost teeth; and the half-absenced toe - is written clear enough in Darius mind. Probably, yes, Darius had been riding some substance or other, probably, yes, coke, but he has a clear memory of waiting for Jaeger to get himself killed right then and there, recalls the shot and a shout from Jaeger, a shout from Sen, looking over to find Sen’s noodle arms walloping a hurricane against the shitstain. Remembers thinking about jumping in, but feeling like it was Sen’s business, and also Darius had managed to nab the good chair so ha ha like fuck he was going to get up. Darius also remembers thinking Vern went and died at the end of the fight, realizing a week or so after that the idiot’d only passed out.
…There was a scatter of teeth splayed across the floor after everything, and thinking back on it (thinking back on it, and catching sight of a few of Renault’s more macabre arrangements), he has a pretty clear idea where those teeth might have ended up.
What was it Rin said? That Jaeger came by with a friend, that Jaeger hadn’t known Rin was here and wanted to make small talk, that Rin sort of kind of sidestepped away and didn’t show up again. It’s the first Darius has heard of the asspucker in years— Aside, of course, from Sen’s text a few weeks back. Which, yes, Darius hadn’t thought particularly on it, but of course Enri would have read it. Enri who is very, very good at picking out and keeping hold of could-be-useful details. Enri who knows precisely where a bit of information might best be leveled. To join in with and further a conversation. To, sometimes, use the information as a prod.
Smirking, Darius sets another kiss to the boy’s head, caresses and musses a sign of approval. Good, good boy.
Enri was - as Enri so often is - listening very well to the conversation, catching onto what pieces he could hold to and engage with. Enri, drifting blissfully against Darius’s thigh (it’s a boon for Darius, to feel the drift of contentment surrounding Enri; it’s a tranquility that seeps into Darius, leaves him warm along the edges of feeling; and there’s something speechlessly gratifying in knowing what his presence does for Enri, how wholly Enri can relax with Darius and simply be), was never far from the talk lilting around him. Enri, even in this drifting response, is never far from Daddy, or whatever speech might be flittering around.
Darius looks up in time to see Sen’s irritation vanish. To catch the intrigued and calculating look that precedes an upbeat tone, and it’s clear Sen thinks he’s found something (maybe has found something) (…probably has found something, nosy fucking bastard) (maybe, Sen, maybe you’d get your nose broken less if you kept it in your own business), Sen had been clocking Enri closely, is flat-out staring, and—
That’s what it is, then. The messages.
…Well. Let Sen marvel all he likes; there’s nothing so very strange about Enri having read those messages. (There’s nothing strange about Enri reading the messages; there’s something terrifically strange about anyone else reading Darius’s messages. It’s unprecedented, certainly. Any would-be-Puppy, any person who dared to read a single message would have been penalized, but—
But Enri is different.
Enri is special. And what’s Darius’s is Enri’s, too. And really, there’s nothing to hide from him. (A thought that jars part of Darius’s thinking to a halt. Because it’s true: there’s nothing to hide, when Enri has already seen some of Darius’s most guarded depths. When Enri regarded, accepted, handled the secretive corners of those depths with care. When Darius’s wounds lay open and Enri kissed him, held him, spoke of beauty. Set flame to words that wounded.) (Darius is - he thinks, he knows, breath catching briefly - obscenely lucky.))
Enri shrugs and Darius continues to caress his hair. Reaches for the drink, and if Enri passes it to him, takes a sip (thinking that, that, that honey is the taste of his love). Hands the drink back before favoring the man with a honey-touched kiss, and when Sen speaks to Rin - employing the ridiculous nickname he’s held onto all these years (it’s actually almost, almost a little bit charming) - and suggests Darius ‘has it very, very bad,’ Darius feels no compulsion to argue or to veil himself. Only looks up to meet Sen’s eyes and offer a smile that’s half-smirk, half-challenge, wholly an affirmation of Sen’s assessment. Flicks the glance to Rin, then back to Sen again.
And when Enri laughs - beautiful, golden sound - at Sen’s description, Darius’s fingers find the line of Enri’s jaw and trace backward, along to the throat, to the collarbone, to linger while Darius watches Sen, eyebrows raised. ]
I wouldn’t worry, Sen; this ‘poor young man’ is discriminating, even frightfully accurate in his evaluations of character.
[ There’s a slight movement from Rin, what could just be a casual stretch of the neck and settling back against Sen, what Darius is willing to bet has more to do with the description so recently leveled in their direction. Darius catches their eyes, darts his glance sideways with a shrug. A sign - rarely offered, but fuck it, he’s feeling generous, he knows how to reach the null from time to time - that there’s nothing to worry over, that what Enri said about (fucking beautiful) Starbucks doesn’t hold the weight Rin’s read in it. That the words Enri’d leveled don’t equate to a final evaluation or any real evaluation.
Whether or not Rin catches his meaning, whether or not Rin accepts his meaning, Darius raises Enri’s hand to place a kiss at his knuckles, then finds Sen’s eyes and speaks again. ]
As it happens, I am more than uncommonly fond of Enri. He is, as they say, the brilliance of my existence.
[ Yes, that was in French, and before it can settle, he adds in English— ]
My entire adoration.
And I’m quite certain he knows both the proper handling of firearms, and the extent to which anyone applying olive oil to a gun might be trusted. Don’t you, Puppy?
[ And, to Enri— ]
When the occasion permits, you'll need to ask Sen about the third time he broke his nose.
no subject
Fair enough; Darius wouldn’t have been eager for anyone to know Jaeger’d smashed his nose, or landed a solid hit anywhere. Which Jaegar had in fact never done. Darius has been hit by plenty of shitheads, but that particular piece of work’d never been among their number.
Thank fuck.
And also, and again, by what work of fucking miracle is that shitheel still among the living?
The night of the broken nose - and the lost teeth; and the half-absenced toe - is written clear enough in Darius mind. Probably, yes, Darius had been riding some substance or other, probably, yes, coke, but he has a clear memory of waiting for Jaeger to get himself killed right then and there, recalls the shot and a shout from Jaeger, a shout from Sen, looking over to find Sen’s noodle arms walloping a hurricane against the shitstain. Remembers thinking about jumping in, but feeling like it was Sen’s business, and also Darius had managed to nab the good chair so ha ha like fuck he was going to get up. Darius also remembers thinking Vern went and died at the end of the fight, realizing a week or so after that the idiot’d only passed out.
…There was a scatter of teeth splayed across the floor after everything, and thinking back on it (thinking back on it, and catching sight of a few of Renault’s more macabre arrangements), he has a pretty clear idea where those teeth might have ended up.
What was it Rin said? That Jaeger came by with a friend, that Jaeger hadn’t known Rin was here and wanted to make small talk, that Rin sort of kind of sidestepped away and didn’t show up again. It’s the first Darius has heard of the asspucker in years— Aside, of course, from Sen’s text a few weeks back. Which, yes, Darius hadn’t thought particularly on it, but of course Enri would have read it. Enri who is very, very good at picking out and keeping hold of could-be-useful details. Enri who knows precisely where a bit of information might best be leveled. To join in with and further a conversation. To, sometimes, use the information as a prod.
Smirking, Darius sets another kiss to the boy’s head, caresses and musses a sign of approval. Good, good boy.
Enri was - as Enri so often is - listening very well to the conversation, catching onto what pieces he could hold to and engage with. Enri, drifting blissfully against Darius’s thigh (it’s a boon for Darius, to feel the drift of contentment surrounding Enri; it’s a tranquility that seeps into Darius, leaves him warm along the edges of feeling; and there’s something speechlessly gratifying in knowing what his presence does for Enri, how wholly Enri can relax with Darius and simply be), was never far from the talk lilting around him. Enri, even in this drifting response, is never far from Daddy, or whatever speech might be flittering around.
Darius looks up in time to see Sen’s irritation vanish. To catch the intrigued and calculating look that precedes an upbeat tone, and it’s clear Sen thinks he’s found something (maybe has found something) (…probably has found something, nosy fucking bastard) (maybe, Sen, maybe you’d get your nose broken less if you kept it in your own business), Sen had been clocking Enri closely, is flat-out staring, and—
That’s what it is, then. The messages.
…Well. Let Sen marvel all he likes; there’s nothing so very strange about Enri having read those messages. (There’s nothing strange about Enri reading the messages; there’s something terrifically strange about anyone else reading Darius’s messages. It’s unprecedented, certainly. Any would-be-Puppy, any person who dared to read a single message would have been penalized, but—
But Enri is different.
Enri is special. And what’s Darius’s is Enri’s, too. And really, there’s nothing to hide from him. (A thought that jars part of Darius’s thinking to a halt. Because it’s true: there’s nothing to hide, when Enri has already seen some of Darius’s most guarded depths. When Enri regarded, accepted, handled the secretive corners of those depths with care. When Darius’s wounds lay open and Enri kissed him, held him, spoke of beauty. Set flame to words that wounded.) (Darius is - he thinks, he knows, breath catching briefly - obscenely lucky.))
Enri shrugs and Darius continues to caress his hair. Reaches for the drink, and if Enri passes it to him, takes a sip (thinking that, that, that honey is the taste of his love). Hands the drink back before favoring the man with a honey-touched kiss, and when Sen speaks to Rin - employing the ridiculous nickname he’s held onto all these years (it’s actually almost, almost a little bit charming) - and suggests Darius ‘has it very, very bad,’ Darius feels no compulsion to argue or to veil himself. Only looks up to meet Sen’s eyes and offer a smile that’s half-smirk, half-challenge, wholly an affirmation of Sen’s assessment. Flicks the glance to Rin, then back to Sen again.
And when Enri laughs - beautiful, golden sound - at Sen’s description, Darius’s fingers find the line of Enri’s jaw and trace backward, along to the throat, to the collarbone, to linger while Darius watches Sen, eyebrows raised. ]
I wouldn’t worry, Sen; this ‘poor young man’ is discriminating, even frightfully accurate in his evaluations of character.
[ There’s a slight movement from Rin, what could just be a casual stretch of the neck and settling back against Sen, what Darius is willing to bet has more to do with the description so recently leveled in their direction. Darius catches their eyes, darts his glance sideways with a shrug. A sign - rarely offered, but fuck it, he’s feeling generous, he knows how to reach the null from time to time - that there’s nothing to worry over, that what Enri said about (fucking beautiful) Starbucks doesn’t hold the weight Rin’s read in it. That the words Enri’d leveled don’t equate to a final evaluation or any real evaluation.
Whether or not Rin catches his meaning, whether or not Rin accepts his meaning, Darius raises Enri’s hand to place a kiss at his knuckles, then finds Sen’s eyes and speaks again. ]
As it happens, I am more than uncommonly fond of Enri. He is, as they say, the brilliance of my existence.
[ Yes, that was in French, and before it can settle, he adds in English— ]
My entire adoration.
And I’m quite certain he knows both the proper handling of firearms, and the extent to which anyone applying olive oil to a gun might be trusted. Don’t you, Puppy?
[ And, to Enri— ]
When the occasion permits, you'll need to ask Sen about the third time he broke his nose.