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THEM FANCY LADS, CONT. (Nikolas/Winter)
[From here:
Well, here they are, on the world's most introverted date, the one that only the extravert between them realizes is a date.
Which is to say, that evening, when he'd normally be retiring to his rooms, Nikolas makes his way to Winter's little private study instead for all that reading Winter seems to think can be a social activity. Maybe he isn't wrong. It can at least be a comfortable one, between the two of them, at this point; that counts for a lot. It's been so very long since most things between them were comfortable. If sitting together in amicable silence, maybe even leaning on one another, can join that list, Nikolas is more than happy to make the first move in adding it.
He raps lightly and quickly on the door, as if worried he might be overheard. It's quite unlike his usual way of being.]
Well, here they are, on the world's most introverted date, the one that only the extravert between them realizes is a date.
Which is to say, that evening, when he'd normally be retiring to his rooms, Nikolas makes his way to Winter's little private study instead for all that reading Winter seems to think can be a social activity. Maybe he isn't wrong. It can at least be a comfortable one, between the two of them, at this point; that counts for a lot. It's been so very long since most things between them were comfortable. If sitting together in amicable silence, maybe even leaning on one another, can join that list, Nikolas is more than happy to make the first move in adding it.
He raps lightly and quickly on the door, as if worried he might be overheard. It's quite unlike his usual way of being.]
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[There's a buzz inside of Nikolas as well, anxiety all mingled up with an excitement so deep and potent it's downright sickening. The fear he's held onto all of this time still has its grip on him, even as he tries to let it go: he doesn't deserve this! He isn't good enough for this! He'll ruin it all like he does everything else! How can he spread the taint of his, everything about himself, onto poor Winter? Trick him into marriage! Surely that's it!
His arms tremble faintly, and he sucks in a deep breath, trying to force those thoughts away; his hands are tight on Winter, as if his body knows not to let him go even as his mind demands he must.]
I could want nothing more. Nothing in this world, or any other—nothing in any world beyond, more than this. But are you certain?
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[ He can't quite meet Nikolas's eyes as he says it -- not out of any actual hesitation, but out of a lingering shyness. But he leans into the touch as well, closer to Nikolas. If he's honest, the tightness of that grip reassures him more than it distresses him. What a change from years ago. ]
I am not... I should say, I am not the sort of person who likes to do these things lightly. You are the one with more freedoms to lose, Nikolas; I only ask that you be certain, as well. Of me.
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["Hate." No, he wants it. He wants it so badly that the undercurrent of it aches in his voice, and touches his eyes as he stares into Winter's. But all of the rest, he believes entirely.]
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[ And that's a problem to be mulled over. Winter shifts his weight and settles without thinking about it much; he's less intent, but in exchange, he's more comfortable. It's a strange feeling, but one that feels more right than many he's had over the past six months. ]
Certainly, my family is less... disapproving of the very idea, and certainly I have had no other companionship than you. But there's been less interest, certainly. No one else has been interested, while you could have your pick of anyone you prefer. It's my luck, then, if you'd rather choose me.
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[He gives Winter a smile, both sardonic and fond, his arms looped around Winter's thin body in a way that strikes him, too, as terribly comfortable.]
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[ But he's always made it a habit of watching Nikolas at larger gatherings -- fetes, festivals, anything where there would be a large crowd of people between them, and Winter could spy without being caught by the sharp side of Nikolas's tongue. Had Nikolas ever even noticed? Perhaps, given the things he's said thus far this evening, but also perhaps not...
Winter lets his head droop down until he can press it against Nikolas's shoulder. Just this is so very nice. ]
But the past is past. We can move forward from that... can't we?
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I want—so very much. I want to think it can be, even if it cannot be easy.
[They're so close; Nikolas has been aware of that all this time, of course, but a sudden deeper awareness sinks in on a bone and muscle sort of level, warming him. He turns his face to press his lips to Winter's forehead, arms tightening just a bit, and holds him there.]
Here we are unable even to make it to a bed, you see.
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[ It's a small gesture, and it doesn't feel that sexual, in spite of the implication in Nikolas's words, or the sureity of his grip. Winter sucks in a quick breath, swaying in; once he's had a moment to process that tenderness, he can focus on what's there underneath. And it's enough to make his face go warm, his own hands coming up to curl in Nikolas's jacket. ]
We could move. It is not so very far away.
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[That could go either way, in terms of being appealing or offputting, and he says it with a great neutrality. But mostly, he's focused on the way Winter clings to him, how just that gesture makes his heart race, even without touching his body itself.]
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[ But even as he says that he twists a little to check. He doesn't let go, nor is he actually making any effort to get up, but just in case. They're alone in these huge quarters, and there's no secret doorways (he is rather certain!) for any sort of servant to magically manifest, but... No, no, it's safe. At least looking away has the added benefit of concealing his face, if only a little; his whole face feels as if it's burning now. ]
No, no, I will walk. It's quite all right. --If it comes to such a thing, which is not to say I am suggesting or implying that it should, just--
[ Never mind that he had. Never mind that! There's only embarrassment now. ]
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[Oh, he had, and Nikolas is going to jump on that, finally moving to get them both out of the chair. He doesn't force it, but he does manhandle just a little in the process, ho hum. His hands are firm on Winter's sides and shoulders, biceps flexing.]
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You really are certain about this, aren't you?
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Well. I am certain I want it; I cannot say I deserve it. And so that depends on your question, more specifically.
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[ That's a bolder statement than he'd usually make; he manages mostly by not letting himself dwell upon the many ways he could -- and does -- mean the question. It feels like there's a wealth of choices in how he could answer, and he himself is interested in them all. ]
If you want me, Nikolas, you must be willing to deal with the whole of me, and what that might entail.
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[Again, as he does sometimes, when he's stalling as he thinks these things through. That hadn't been the answer he'd expected, but it's hardly unwelcome either.]
Why don't you tell me, then, what some of these things are, as we walk? I would like to hear. And I could tell you now that I agree, entirely, because I do! I know I do. But I suspect that would mean more after you've had your say, however true it already is.
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[ It's just crossing over to his bed! Which in and of itself is a sort of nerve-wracking step. There's a difference in what they're doing now to what they've done before, even if they have been on his bed before, if only passingly. ]
I am not a completely innocent creature, no matter what you might think of me. I have a dislike of crowds, and a greater dislike of the ones you draw to yourself. I have been jealous of them my whole life; that would certainly only intensify if you agreed to this sort of relationship with me. That hardly is an appealing thing, is it? But I won't lie and pretend that doesn't exist, either.
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[If it's only that! He waves that away with a quirked little smile of relief, as he crosses to the bed. See, walking and talking.]
You needn't worry about any of those, Winter. This may not be terribly convincing coming from me, but if you put your faith in me I swear I will prove it: I cannot imagine ever needing to indulge in a single other soul than you, were you mine and free to indulge in.
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[ He sounds something like a line out of one of those bad romance novels that he's read so many of and will never admit to unless openly confronted. But even so (or maybe even a little because of that), Winter smiles. It's a small smile, a bit wobbly at the edges, but it catches and holds on his face even as they reach their destination. Maybe it's okay to believe he can have something nice? Surely it's all right. ]
But I will, and I will hope that you'll treat my heart gently from now on.
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[That little smile is just terrible. It's terrible in how much it makes Nikolas want to kiss it; his gaze lingers on it even as he talks, his own lips curling into a dopey, wanting little grin.]
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[ He says it like it's a surprise. How could it be, that people might accuse him of foolishness? But as good as he might be with his studies, he's at least aware that he's at least somewhat sheltered.
(He's much more than he realizes, but at least there's some self-awareness there.)
But the way Nikolas smiles distracts him in turn; he lights up further, nervous and eager. ]
But I do. I trust you, and as long as you give me reason to, I will continue to do so.
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[He begins to lean in, seized by a moment of reluctance, warring visibly with the current of desire he can't fight off. Can he trust himself? He isn't certain. But if not in this, in what? And he hardly wants to think he can never trust himself in anything again.]
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But when Nikolas hesitates, Winter cocks his head, reaching up to settle his hands lightly on Nikolas's shoulders. ]
I'll do what I must, if I must. But -- for tonight, at least, I'd much rather not assume the worst. Tomorrow, we can be more serious about it, but for tonight... I'd like it very much if we could both be happy.
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[His expression and tone both soften under Winter's gaze and touch like a fruit ripening under the sun. How can he not be? And how can he not lean in for the kiss, soft but hungry, his lips meeting Winter's in a slow motion crash of spreading warmth?]