oneinfive | THEM FANCY LADS, CONT. (Nikolas/Winter)

You could try, at least; I would not tell you no.

[ He says that easily and honestly enough. No matter what the situation, he is grateful that anyone would care enough to want to look after him -- the fact that it's Nikolas, specifically, is even more of a thrill, private as it is.

And when Nikolas looks at him, he can almost convince himself that Nikolas feels the same. It's a wistful feeling, but for once, not a bad one. ]

I've heard often enough from Ophelia that I am very bad at such things.

Don't dare tell her I said this, either, but she's quite right. Look at me spending my evening admitting to the virtues of others! No one would believe it of me. If anyone asks, tell them we spent the evening in vice, not virtue.

[Of course, that's probably a bad idea, but at least he manages to make it sound like a true joke this time. Not an unfriendly one! Though he'd have to admit quite a bit of curiosity as to how Winter will react to hearing it.

He does withdraw his hand, after a brief squeeze. Some things are perhaps too much.]

I'm rather certain that if I said that, no one would believe me. I am hardly the sort of person anyone wishes to commit any vices with!

[ He responds to what sounds like a joke with one of his own, also more truth than anything else. Winter knows very well what he looks like, and how poorly he scores in popularity; every Fete since his sixteenth birthday has been the same. If people approach him, it's to make a political connection, not a personal one. ]

If you'd rather, I could say that I stepped out and you had your fun with one of my maids.

Winter. My dear, dearest Winter. Lord Quertis. Do you honestly believe that blasphemy you've just gone and spouted at me?

[No no no, wait, they need to handle this first. It's very important that Winter understand that he's fuckable, you see!

He can't truly believe such a thing. Can he? Nikolas has already committed vices with him! Whether it's going too far to imply he'd like to commit more—that hardly matters as much as clearing up this misunderstanding!

No, it matters more, of course, but Nikolas is refusing to acknowledge that.]

...Yes?

[ He's more confused than anything by Nikolas's response. While he hasn't forgotten their encounters, it's been the better part of a year since any sort of actual innuendo, and... well. It's Nikolas. Winter's personal feelings haven't blinded him to Nikolas's habits and preferences. There's a part of him that still occasionally marvels that it happened at all, more than once!

But there's no point in thinking (hoping?) anything will happen again. Winter's not Nikolas's type. He's known that for a long time, even without the issue of his sex. ]

You know me; you know I would not say something unless I believed it true.

I do know that! And yet I had some vain hope to the contrary just now! Winter, do remember who you're speaking to here when you say nobody could ever have such interest in you. Hmm?

[This is going too far. But oh, hell. He'd gone too far months ago; this is only a continuation of that instance of going too far, and therefore it does not count, and he can't be blamed for it. There!

He leans closer in his chair, squinting.]

I-- w-well!

[ He doesn't lean back, which feels like a rather tremendous accomplishment on his part, but his eyes do go wider and his face goes red. Of course he's never been good at hiding something like that, not with how fair he is, but he's more aware of it than usual.

But under his fluster is a sense of sheer bewilderment. Given the circumstances of -- well, every single time they'd done anything, he'd mostly convinced himself that it was less interest and more opportunity and curiosity that had motivated Nikolas. Is this more teasing? It has to be, right?! ]

I could amend that to say "no one with more than a passing interest." Would that satisfy you?

[No! No it wouldn't! He could lie about that, and he should! But it doesn't slide off his tongue as easily as lies generally do. He doesn't stammer, and his expression doesn't falter, but his silence speaks volumes that his voice isn't ready to. And he, too, doesn't break the eye contact. His eyes only go slowly, pointedly wider. He can't think of a single other thing to do, you see.]

. . . Well.

[ This is growing rapidly more alarming, in the sense that none of this feels very much like a joke or a passing casual conversation, and Winter was not prepared for this. His own eyes go wider when he sees the gesture from Nikolas, and by this point his face feels so hot he's mildly surprised it isn't on fire. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest he's surprised someone hasn't noticed. Whether it's Nikolas, sitting across from him, or Frest, wherever he is, Winter's not sure who he'd prefer.

Really? Really?! ]

W... well? Well, what?!

[ His voice goes a little higher than he'd like with that, but look, he wasn't prepared. He wasn't ready to be composed about this, so what comes out is confused and honest -- vulnerable, to his dismay. ]

Well!

[There you have it! His answer! Eloquence for the ages! He's a sly one, remarkably well-spoken, that Great Avis!

He blurts it out as if doing so with enough bluster might transform it into a complete sentence, one that answers everything perfectly, both safe and honest. The look on his face is so deliberately blustery that it would be difficult to mistake it for sincere snottishness.]

[ This is not a timeline where Nikolas would know anything about Winter's childhood nickname, but maybe in this moment he could guess -- because Winter just stares back, wide-eyed and frozen in place, very much like some small stunned rabbit. His face is still red, lips parted like he means to say something more, though he can't come up with anything. Even if Nikolas's expression is an obvious affectation, the implication is not. ]

I... I'm not sure I understand precisely what you're implying, here.

. . . And I am not sure how I could make it any more clear.

[Oh, what a liar. He could start by actually saying it. That would be more clear, wouldn't it! Of course he knows it, but no, he's going to be like this instead.

At least for the moment. The truth is, the longer he dances around the issue this way, the more he wonders why he doesn't simply come out with it after all. All that stands in their way . . .

Well, it's that Nikolas doesn't deserve him, and that's quite a serious barrier.]

I could think of several!

[ He says it more sharply than he might normally, and once he does he rocks back a little in his own seat, wide-eyed at himself. Certainly Nikolas could be more clear, but Winter himself could be more polite...!

But the very idea seems utterly ridiculous. Of all options Nikolas could have, Winter has to certainly be at the bottom of the list; even ignoring Nikolas's well-known fondness for women, there just isn't terribly much Winter could think of to advocate for himself.

And yet, there's the silence stretching out between them, long and nervous, and Winter is at a loss for what else to even say. ]

Y-- you must understand, the very idea of it seems rather incredible to me.

My dear, I can't imagine why. Ah, no. That isn't true.

[With that he smiles; it's not the happiest of smiles. There's some deep, wounded ache in it, so powerful that it entirely overwhelms the fact that the expression is a smile at all. It would be difficult to look at that curve of his lips and come away with an impression of Nikolas having been smiling. But it is, if nothing else, soft, and turned entirely on himself besides.]

I do know why. I am the one who's led you to believe it. Myself and Ophelia, perhaps, but I will take the lion's share of the blame.

[ The impulse rises and dies to ask about Ophelia -- what does she have to do with all of this? -- but Winter finds himself unable to, just looking at the expression on Nikolas's face. The sight makes his own chest ache in ways he's tried to ignore for years; he has to force himself not to reach out to Nikolas. Not now, not yet, and maybe not ever, depending on how this situation spins itself out.

He bites the inside of his cheek and takes a breath. ]

I fail to see what sort of blame there is for you to have... it's hardly as if you are the only person in the whole of the royal court, and you are far from the only person who's courted others at the Fetes.

[ He's the only one Winter's ever wanted to look his way, but it's still a true thing. No one's ever courted his attention at those seasonal celebrations except for simple business interests. ]

[It's such a calm, quiet conversation, and Nikolas is holding him together quite admirably, if he does say so himself! And yet there's something deep in him that feels like it's spiraling out of control in a way he hasn't felt in some time. Like all such spirals, it's both compelling and maddening. He feels the way he did the last time he had a dalliance with Winter, in fact. It's all too easy to imagine it happening again tonight, not just that way, but better, because he's a better man, isn't he—

Not better enough. No, not even close. He has to remember that before he goes too far.

Still. He leans in closer, with an intentness in his gaze that he isn't hiding.]

No, no. I do know that! And that is where our Ophelia comes in, and it isn't my place to go into all of that here and tonight. But myself, I can speak for. And I have led your thinking astray, at least insofar as you may think about how I see you.

How I think you see me...

[ He wants to say something more in response to that. How else was he supposed to think? After the disaster of Winter's fourteenth summer, and the awkward road to actual friendship since then, he's always kept the thought very clear: Nikolas Avis might be willing to be his friend, and to treat him fondly, but never to the degree that Winter himself has always wanted. He'd like very much to deny understanding what Nikolas is skirting around now.

But as much as he's given to self-deprecation, and as much as he finds himself terribly lacking, he can hear very well the implication in Nikolas's words. He's just not sure he yet believes it. ]

If I've been mistaken, then I invite you to illuminate me.

. . . Well. To start with, don't go saying it like that. "If I've been mistaken." You're entirely too polite; you make it sound as if it might have been a misunderstanding that you were. I don't deserve the kindness of you thinking so, my dear.

[Protesting that is both stalling for time and, in some way Nikolas hopes he isn't wrong about, important; it does pain him to think that Winter might really believe he was just "mistaken" about Nikolas's feelings. Not when Nikolas mislead him, and quite deliberately at that. He folds his hands in his lap, demure in a way he rarely is.]

The fault is mine there.

[ He's quiet for a long moment at that, working his way through that revelation. A part of him -- a far larger part than he would like to admit, in all honesty -- is in a tizzy of excitement over what this could mean. The way Nikolas speaks, it sounds very much like he might feel the same way Winter has, that he still does, like every ridiculous romantic fantasy he's read about and adapted in his own imagination might actually be true.

But how often has he gotten what he's wanted? Not for his family, or his people, his country or his district, but for himself? And it wouldn't do to plow thoughtlessly into this. What if he's wrong? They'd both be too embarrassed to ever speak to each other again. He has to stay calm, and he mostly manages it but for the nervous hope he can't quite suppress. ]

My invitation still stands. Never mind who is at fault; please tell me what you truly think.

—I don't see why you are demanding it in so many words!

[He finally blurts that out with a pout, which is at least mostly affected. The atmosphere is so tense it feels like the room might shatter like glass, and Nikolas is quickly coming to realize that if this is happening, and right now, he doesn't much like the feeling of it being like that. It feels like starting things off very much on the wrong foot to begin with this kind of brittle awkwardness. He has to break the mood somehow, damn it all.

The easiest way would be by deflecting the topic entirely, but he doesn't want to, and that, too, terrifies him.

For a long moment he only pouts at Winter, his lip quivering in the corner in a way that could mean he's about to cry or could mean he's about to laugh. He's not sure himself which it is.]

You're a tyrant. Ah, no. Perhaps not. I oughtn't tease so very much as that; you might go on thinking you don't deserve to hear that I care very much for you, more deeply than you could know, entirely the fault of my own failures. And that I want you no less now than I did that night. —Yes, even sober! Moreso sober, there's the truth of the matter at last. The crux of it all, that is.

—I am entirely too sober right now, in fact.

You're--

[ He's too sober?! Winter himself isn't sure if he's somehow gotten himself drunk enough to hallucinate, or if this is all just some strange elaborate dream. Any moment now, surely, he'll wake up to the sound of a knock, and there will be Nikolas for real, for their promised nighttime conversation.

Except that's not true, is it? That's not what's going on, here. Even as part of his mind tries frantically to convince himself that this is only a lovely illusion, he's also too certain that this is real. This is happening. Nikolas Avis is -- not confessing, precisely, but skirting around the issue so closely that it cannot be anything but. Winter swallows, and the sound is deafening in his own ears. ]

You're... a-are you certain? Me?

[ He can't tell what his voice must sound like to Nikolas. His old dead childish hopes have come to sudden roaring life, but the practical part of him, the larger part, can't quite make the connection to belief just yet. ]

Oh, quite!

[His voice raises despite himself—not mockingly, not aggressively, but nervously, as if all of this emotion needs to go somewhere and it can't find anywhere but sheer volume to leak out. His eyes widen, too, in his helpless earnestness. How is he supposed to react to this sheet level of disbelief? It's strange; something about the situation puts them on even footing, for the first time, Nikolas feels, in a very long time. They're both floundering here. They're acting silly and awkward and childish, and that, somehow, helps matters.]

I promise you I've not mistaken you for anyone else, my dear! There is no one else your equal I could possibly take you for! Don't be silly!

I hardly think I am being at all silly...

[ Why wouldn't he be confused? After everything! With their whole convoluted history, how could he not question what he's hearing, and what he's being told? For a few seconds all he can do is keep staring at Nikolas, trying to parse his comments. ]

Do you... you really do mean that, don't you...?

You only want me to say it again! You are forcing my hand, you tyrant.

[He says that poutily—and then he lets out a long, dramatic sigh, only half for show. It's relaxing, too, an attempt to calm his stupid nerves that works a bit. That's better than he might have expected. Nikolas is very good at letting himself get worked up and emotional, running away with it and not looking back. That isn't what he wants here and now.]

. . . Well. If I complained about saying it, I would hardly be worth listening to; your breath would be wasted on me. I already fear you've wasted your time on a man such as myself. And yet here you sit with me! The least I can do is tell you the truth, and as many times as you want to hear it. Yes, Winter, I do mean it. You deserve to hear that every day of your life, not only in a moment of ill-advised passion such as that one I just went and had. I do.

I...

[ What does one even say to something like that? It's a confession like something straight out of the books he guiltily smuggles now and then, even now -- but it's never been something that Winter has ever expected to be directed at him. And especially not from this man, of all people! But here they are, in quiet privacy, and for a long moment all Winter can do is stare. He's never prepared for anything like this! And even if he'd suspected, this isn't the sort of thing one can write a speech for--! ]

Oh. That's rather -- that is to say, I'm very -- I'm --

--I'm honored that you'd feel that way about me--!

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