terriblepurpose | Deer Country Contact

[The grass is soft beneath them, the sun low and warm where it begins to sink behind the treeline. The pressure of Shinji-kun's weight across his torso is settling. He lets his next exhale be deeper, a degree of tension unwinding.]

Not that.

[He rubs a circle on Kaworu's shoulder with his thumb.]

I didn't like the way people talked about you. Talked to you. [He worries the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth.] Back home, I'd have been able to do something about it.

What would you have done?

[Kaworu rolls over so he's half resting on Paul's chest, forehead tucked underneath Paul's strong jaw.]

Had them flogged? Throw them in jail? Sent assassins after them?

[His voice is light, teasing.]

None of that would change the view of me in their mind. It would just cease their words.

No. Of course not.

[He nestles his chin in soft silver hair familiarly, another quiet huff to go with it.]

I would have fought them.

[His emphasis is edged, if still delivered in soft tones.]

I don't care what people think. I care what they do. Which seems to be the opposite of what most people here believe.

What if I'd rather have you stay by my side instead? Would you still go to fight? Then is it more about your honor than mine?

[There's a playful flutter of fingers up Paul's embracing arm. Not quite a tickle, but just soft enough to cause a gentle sensation.]

Well, it's easier to think than it is to do.

[Paul almost squirms, a catch in his breath coupled with a tensing of his arm under the distracting touch. It reminds him of Kaworu skimming up his piano keys.]

If we were back home, you wouldn't ask me that.

[Not quite chiding, but firm on this point. After all:]

You'll notice I'm here, not at the Gate.

It's different here. I know that. [As frustrating as it can be.] Do you think that's an excuse? It being easier to think, not act.

If you were back home, there would be no one to ask.

[It's a bit harsh, but he's long since established his inability to acclimate to tact.

He is certain, in a world where Paul was Duke Atreides and he somehow also was placed in that world as some odd creature born from no womb, that their paths would never cross.

It's what makes all this more important.]

No. In the head, thoughts are only thoughts and they are yours alone. No one can see into the world created in your mind. People are defined by action and inaction.

[Paul frowns faintly at Kaworu's blunt statement. He could take it a number of ways, from an insult to his romantic aptitude all the way to the sense he believes it's intended as, a flat statement of likelihood.

The odds are that Kaworu is right. If they were anywhere else, none of this would lie between them. It's only that Paul doesn't believe that.

He lets it go. It's not the time. He only tilts to kiss the top of Kaworu's head; action over thoughts.]

I wasn't trying to lie to either of you.

[A flitting segue back to the real conversation here.]

Do you believe that?

Of course I do.

[He settles into the kiss, relishing in gentle actions directed his way as always. He doesn’t even seem to be aware that hi body is drawn towards them like a moth to flame.

Unconscious actions.]

You were taking care of us. And Shinji-kun too. They just weren’t interested in understanding.

[That turns another tumbler in the locked tension he's been carrying, loosens the confinement of his ribs. He eases back against the earth below them, appreciative of the nestling of Kaworu against his side.

Kaworu's not always easy to make happy, but when he is, it's a joy to share.]

Thank you.

[Another kiss, and a preemptive explanation:]

For trusting me.

Edited 2022-07-15 14:05 (UTC)

Of course.

You were the first person that I trusted.

[He rolls over, pressing his chest against Paul's (S^2 organ against heart), and cups the other boys face before giving him another kiss.

Shinji-kun seems oblivious to this PDA.]

[The first person I trusted, a weight of responsibility that Paul has shouldered willingly. He wanted, wants, Kaworu to trust him. Any answer but the one given would have shaken him.

But the answer he's given does too. Paul never knows how to want anything simply. Half the proof lies in the hum of Kaworu's angelic engine against his sternum, in the always so faintly not quite human tang of his kiss.]

We're on the lawn.

[He observes, mildly, between one kiss and the next.]

What? Suddenly shy?

[He shifts, lips pressing against Paul's neck gentle at first and then making small indentations from his teeth on the soft skin underneath his jaw.]

That's not like you.

[Paul tilts his neck to allow Kaworu's exploration, throat bobbing when Kaworu scrapes his skin with his teeth. His anchoring arm slips lower, hand at Kaworu's waist.

Shinji-kun is watching is almost on his lips before he catches himself. The thought doesn't send him into a tailspin of self-doubt, so there's that, at least. He substitutes:]

You hate the bugs. The grass pollen will start making you sneeze.

I guess.

[He makes sure that the exaggerated sulk is clearly noticed by the young Duke before he collapses onto him in a dramatic flop. He doesn't actually mind. Even if he's being denied a pleasure that he would like to explore (and everything is negotiable is what he's learning), he also enjoys the concern. That someone cares that he dislikes bugs in the grass or takes notice of what makes him sneeze and itch.

He confirms his pleasure by wrapping his arms around Paul's neck, as though preparing to be swept off his feet.]

I won't start sneezing right away, you know. It takes time to happen.

And then you sneeze into my mouth?

[Shinji-kun has to be nudged aside to the grass for Paul to reciprocate Kaworu's preparatory hold. As always, the lizard doesn't mind. He lolls on the grass placidly, his cloudy eyes unblinking but moist.

The boy in his arms is entirely unlike the lizard in the grass, except for one common feature, the same one Gideon shares with him. The one shared by half of his household and most of his friends.]

That doesn't seem very fun. Help me get you up.

I would not!

[He doesn't move to be helpful. In fact, he decides to be purposefully unhelpful by just flopping dead weight onto Paul as if he could trap him there with his dead weight. (He could with his AT Field but... well, that's cheating of course.)

A mild protest against this slander.]

You're disgusting. What's wrong with you?

[Paul laughs, a low, quiet roll of sound as Kaworu compresses his diaphram. He fans out his shoulderblades underneath him as counterbalance.]

If only it hadn't happened before.

[He taps Kaworu's upper arm, a quick one-two beat.]

Don't you remember when you first learned what allergies were? You were so sad, with your nose all stuffed up and eyes all swollen...

I was miserable. I thought I was dying from a horrible human disease.

[Just a poor little meow meow! Dying from the Leviathan wasn't as bad as allergies (as he made sure to make everyone aware of this fact).

He taps back the beat on Paul's ribs, repeated twice.]

[The most tragic meow meow of all, a fact Paul shows his acceptance of with a gentle squeeze of comfort and a quiet hum. The humor of the situation had alternated with genuine sympathy on his part at Kaworu's distress, even if he tended to exaggerate it.]

In a way, it is a horrible human disease.

[He nuzzles Kaworu's temple, breathing in the salt breeze.]

Although accusing me of giving it to you wasn't very nice.

You took care of me anyway.

[Paul had always been there with a handkerchief up his sleeve, ready to give a gentle massage to relieve stuffy and swollen sinuses. Paul would be there when he woke up after the medication tablets made him sleepy, looking over him or curled up next to him in an unexpected nap.]

You always do. Take care of us.

Because I love you.

[Because, as he is discovering, sifted memory by memory, he loved them all longer than he ever realized, if love is a handkerchief up the sleeve and a blanket tucked closer around a curled up sleeper.

It's still a little thrill to say it. Part of him had wondered if it would grow less precious with use, but it hasn't lost its shine.]

It makes it easy.

And that's why I trust you. And love you in return.

[He nestles in Paul's arms like the many blankets that the other boy has wrapped around his sleeping shoulders. Like nothing's changed. Because nothing has. Not really.]

It doesn't matter what they say. My trust is what matters.

[ They still should get up. Leave Shinji-kun to bask in the sunlight, which seems to do him no harm, for all that he is a sinister and eldritch undead, and preserve Kaworu's delicate sinuses from the onslaught of the outdoors.

But now it's Paul's turn to linger, burying his face into Kaworu's hair in a gesture easy to mistake for embarrassment, overwhelmed by feelings in a way that demands physical manifestation. He presses Kaworu close enough it almost begins to ache, soaking in his presence, and between this and the ice cream - he's all right.

He's better. ]

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