Devin has timed his arrival well; the Fool's only customer is an elderly regular who drops by long enough to admire his carvings and make small-talk about current events or her grandchildren. She's predictable in that despite cooing over his work, she never buys anything.
As she takes her leave, the Fool rises up from his seat at his work station and steps lightly across the cafe to greet Devin, though the smile he has prepared begins to fade the longer he takes in his lover's expression. Perhaps the Dreaming Sickness is to blame for the fatigue that has been hounding them both, but that look in his eyes--
He revives his smile for the sake of appearances; they aren't completely alone, after all. "Shall we go upstairs?" he suggests softly; at least there, they can discuss whatever has brought on this expression in private.
Belatedly, Devin realizes he must look like he's here to deliver bad news of some kind. He's here to deliver news that may not be received well and therefore not necessarily considered good, but hopefully with a bit of explanation won't be considered bad either.
"Please." Devin manages another small, tired smile, and adds, "Your furnishings are more comfortable."
Privacy is also needed, for both of them. This is not a conversation to have in front of prying eyes.
For just a hair's breadth of a moment too long the Fool remains still and quiet, considering Devin's face. Then he cracks another smile that covers his brittle nerves well. "Of course," he says softly, then turns to lead the way towards his small studio.
Once upstairs, he slips his key into the lock and flips the latch, stepping inside and motioning Devin in after him. The apartment is rather dimly lit at present, with the lights off and the radio silent, given the Fool hadn't intended to come back to it until later this evening. He takes a moment to at least draw the curtains back to admit a bit more light into the place, before he turns to look at Devin again, this time not bothering to guard the uncertainty from his eyes.
A beat, and then, folding his hands in front of himself, "Is something the matter?"
(His thoughts are already chasing themselves in circles--he's changed his mind, this is happening all too quickly--)
Truthfully, Devin is not quite sure what to make of that uncertainty other than the circumstances being generally concerning. And they are, but he hopes not for too much longer. He crosses to his lover and does his best to look reassuring, resting his hands above the Fool's elbows and squeezing gently before letting go.
"No, not really. Nothing dangerous," he answers. This is not the most helpful response, and so he continues smoothly. "I'm apparently suffering from the Dreaming sickness, too - it only just started, as far as I can tell. But I wanted to tell you what I saw, in case it happens again." Devin pauses, and now it's his turn to wear uncertainty. "It wasn't-- what I was expecting."
At that steadying, reassuring touch, the Fool briefly closes his eyes and feels the worst of the fear ebb away. (Surely this is not how Devin would prepare him for rejection.) The revelation about the Dreaming Sickness is not altogether surprising, given the number of nights that the pair of them spend together here; the Fool is a light sleeper, and when Devin's nightmares rouse him, it is to be expected that he will wake, too.
And yet...
"...It wasn't-- what I was expecting."
His eyebrows draw together into a small furrow. "Tell me what you saw," he encourages quietly.
On the verge of his admission, it sinks in just how invasive it would be for Sam to show up in the bedroom like the turtle did. No matter how committed Devin is to the Fool, he's apparently dreaming about someone at home that he cares for. That thought pulls an apology onto his face before he can even voice it.
"I don't think I've told you about Sam, have I?" Devin says softly. His gaze falls to the floor, feeling oddly exposed. "He's part of the hunter group I let myself be captured by several months before I came here, but he's not technically a hunter himself. He's their doctor. Our doctor, I guess, since I've taken up residence there."
The tension in Devin's frame is movement just waiting to happen, and he forces himself to stay put though he shoves his hands into his pockets. Now would be a good time to close off, his instincts remind him. Devin's silence lasts longer than he means it to.
"We-- honestly, I'm not sure what we are to each other," he continues haltingly, an unwelcome and unfamiliar sense of shame edging into his tone. It's not as though Devin has been unfaithful to either Sam or the Fool, and yet he feels he has done something illicit by not sharing this earlier. "There wasn't any time to find out before I was taken to Konryu again. He's who I saw today."
There are layers upon layers of nuance and meaning to what Devin does and doesn't say, and each implication stirs a surge of unpleasantly familiar emotions in the Fool. He doesn't want to do it--feels childish and weak and rather petty for doing it--but he has to look away from Devin's eyes, rather than let himself search for some reassurance in his expression that cannot possibly be there.
The heart does not play fairly; that much the Fool is already keenly aware of, for he'd spent the better part of his life in the Six Duchies desperately loving a man who would never return his affections (at least, not in the same way). That knowledge does nothing to gentle the stab of pain he feels now, even knowing that the reaction is not rooted in any tangible threat to his happiness. Yet even so--
"You must care for him a great deal," he says softly, and forces himself to look up to Devin as he speaks.
Devin raises his head sharply, mouth open as though to say something but no words come out. He has difficulty expressing his emotions at the best of times, and usually he talks around them. It doesn't come as a surprise that this would be upsetting for the Fool, but articulating a response is challenging for more reasons than not wanting to hurt his lover any further.
Whatever is happening between Devin and Sam back home is still an abstract concept, a distant idea that's been shelved for the time being. Until today, Devin hadn't seriously considered what might happen if Sam actually showed up in Aifaran. It makes him more than a little miserable that caring for one person is wounding another he cares for even more deeply; this is an aspect of relationships he hadn't thought of and is not wholly prepared for.
"No matter how I feel about Sam," Devin begins, a tremor in his voice betraying his distress, "I wouldn't leave you for him if he were really here." He makes a hollow sound that might be a laugh, shutting his eyes for a moment. Sam likely wouldn't take him if he left the Fool; he'd get an hour-long lecture and the doctor would march him right back here. "All he's ever asked of me is to let someone in, even if it wasn't him."
Hell, he'd probably be their biggest fan. Sam was frustratingly reasonable and levelheaded. There is a plea in Devin's eyes for his lover to understand, to believe him. To not punish him for honesty, however illogical the thought is. Devin has spent so much time and energy on hiding his heart that showing it still carries risk. "For what it's worth-- if it weren't for him, I don't think we would even be here. I don't think I could have tried."
They are, the both of them, wounding each other without even trying. The Fool can easily tell that his pain is causing Devin pain--all because of a dream, and feelings that followed Devin here from his own world, feelings that he has no control over. (And navigating feelings, the Fool knows, are not easy for Devin.) The Fool draws a breath and reaches for steadiness, or at least some approximation of it. Then he takes hold of Devin’s hands and gently traces his thumbs across the ridge of each knuckle.
“Forgive me, I--” His quiet request tapers off into silence, though it doesn’t linger. He smiles, a melancholic expression that twists the corners of his lips, and drops his eyes to their hands. “I remain ruled by my own bloody insecurities, it seems. There have been precious few occasions for jealousy in my past, and hence, even fewer occasions to master it. But that should not become your burden.”
He lifts his eyes to Devin’s again and reaches up to tenderly touch his cheek. “Tell me more about Sam,” he encourages him. A beat, before he adds with the smallest of wry smiles, “I already know that he has good taste.”
(His fear and jealousy have not been bested yet--but he is trying.)
Before he does anything else, Devin gently pulls the Fool into his arms. It's a tangible emphasis on the choice he's made as much as an expression of gratitude. Wanting to know more about Sam is definitely not what he was expecting out of this conversation.
Devin takes a few breaths before he speaks, his embrace loose enough that his lover can move if he wants to. "He's... stubbornly patient," Devin begins softly, carefully. How much should he say? This can't be easy for the Fool. "And probably the only one of the hunter group who treats me like a person first and a vampire second." Including Devin himself, which Sam had been amiably arguing with him about for the better part of five months.
More wryly, Devin adds: "He takes no bullshit and he's hard to piss off."
“I like him already,” the Fool replies, smiling a little more warmly, but he knows the words are not entirely truthful even as he speaks them aloud. He’s jealous; there’s no escaping it, and undoubtedly if he and Sam were ever forced to cross paths with each other, he would need time to prepare himself for it. Still, being gathered into Devin’s arms like this does plenty to assuage his fears, and with closed eyes he leans into the embrace and allows silence to settle around them.
For a moment or two more he says nothing. Then, his fingers curling slightly into the fabric near the small of Devin’s back, he says softly, “I would not leave you, either, were Fitz to come back.”
That's probably enough detail about Sam; Devin doesn't want to prolong the discomfort even if he deeply appreciates that the Fool is trying. At that last comment, Devin tightens his embrace around his lover for lack of anything better to say. He would be lying if he claimed the possibility of Fitz's return had never bothered him. Fitz and the Fool have a bond deeper than any Devin has experienced, something he can't even hold a candle to. He wouldn't blame his lover for choosing Fitz, though it would hurt immensely.
But the Fool did say Devin looks at him and wants him like no one else has. Maybe he shouldn't be trying to compare himself to Fitz in the first place. That will take some work.
He tips his head down and presses a kiss into the Fool's hair. "I just wanted you to know ahead of time, in case it happens again," Devin says at length. "Hopefully it'll be over soon."
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afoolsgold) wrote2018-01-16 10:28 am
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As she takes her leave, the Fool rises up from his seat at his work station and steps lightly across the cafe to greet Devin, though the smile he has prepared begins to fade the longer he takes in his lover's expression. Perhaps the Dreaming Sickness is to blame for the fatigue that has been hounding them both, but that look in his eyes--
He revives his smile for the sake of appearances; they aren't completely alone, after all. "Shall we go upstairs?" he suggests softly; at least there, they can discuss whatever has brought on this expression in private.
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"Please." Devin manages another small, tired smile, and adds, "Your furnishings are more comfortable."
Privacy is also needed, for both of them. This is not a conversation to have in front of prying eyes.
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Once upstairs, he slips his key into the lock and flips the latch, stepping inside and motioning Devin in after him. The apartment is rather dimly lit at present, with the lights off and the radio silent, given the Fool hadn't intended to come back to it until later this evening. He takes a moment to at least draw the curtains back to admit a bit more light into the place, before he turns to look at Devin again, this time not bothering to guard the uncertainty from his eyes.
A beat, and then, folding his hands in front of himself, "Is something the matter?"
(His thoughts are already chasing themselves in circles--he's changed his mind, this is happening all too quickly--)
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"No, not really. Nothing dangerous," he answers. This is not the most helpful response, and so he continues smoothly. "I'm apparently suffering from the Dreaming sickness, too - it only just started, as far as I can tell. But I wanted to tell you what I saw, in case it happens again." Devin pauses, and now it's his turn to wear uncertainty. "It wasn't-- what I was expecting."
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And yet...
"...It wasn't-- what I was expecting."
His eyebrows draw together into a small furrow. "Tell me what you saw," he encourages quietly.
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"I don't think I've told you about Sam, have I?" Devin says softly. His gaze falls to the floor, feeling oddly exposed. "He's part of the hunter group I let myself be captured by several months before I came here, but he's not technically a hunter himself. He's their doctor. Our doctor, I guess, since I've taken up residence there."
The tension in Devin's frame is movement just waiting to happen, and he forces himself to stay put though he shoves his hands into his pockets. Now would be a good time to close off, his instincts remind him. Devin's silence lasts longer than he means it to.
"We-- honestly, I'm not sure what we are to each other," he continues haltingly, an unwelcome and unfamiliar sense of shame edging into his tone. It's not as though Devin has been unfaithful to either Sam or the Fool, and yet he feels he has done something illicit by not sharing this earlier. "There wasn't any time to find out before I was taken to Konryu again. He's who I saw today."
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The heart does not play fairly; that much the Fool is already keenly aware of, for he'd spent the better part of his life in the Six Duchies desperately loving a man who would never return his affections (at least, not in the same way). That knowledge does nothing to gentle the stab of pain he feels now, even knowing that the reaction is not rooted in any tangible threat to his happiness. Yet even so--
"You must care for him a great deal," he says softly, and forces himself to look up to Devin as he speaks.
no subject
Whatever is happening between Devin and Sam back home is still an abstract concept, a distant idea that's been shelved for the time being. Until today, Devin hadn't seriously considered what might happen if Sam actually showed up in Aifaran. It makes him more than a little miserable that caring for one person is wounding another he cares for even more deeply; this is an aspect of relationships he hadn't thought of and is not wholly prepared for.
"No matter how I feel about Sam," Devin begins, a tremor in his voice betraying his distress, "I wouldn't leave you for him if he were really here." He makes a hollow sound that might be a laugh, shutting his eyes for a moment. Sam likely wouldn't take him if he left the Fool; he'd get an hour-long lecture and the doctor would march him right back here. "All he's ever asked of me is to let someone in, even if it wasn't him."
Hell, he'd probably be their biggest fan. Sam was frustratingly reasonable and levelheaded. There is a plea in Devin's eyes for his lover to understand, to believe him. To not punish him for honesty, however illogical the thought is. Devin has spent so much time and energy on hiding his heart that showing it still carries risk. "For what it's worth-- if it weren't for him, I don't think we would even be here. I don't think I could have tried."
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“Forgive me, I--” His quiet request tapers off into silence, though it doesn’t linger. He smiles, a melancholic expression that twists the corners of his lips, and drops his eyes to their hands. “I remain ruled by my own bloody insecurities, it seems. There have been precious few occasions for jealousy in my past, and hence, even fewer occasions to master it. But that should not become your burden.”
He lifts his eyes to Devin’s again and reaches up to tenderly touch his cheek. “Tell me more about Sam,” he encourages him. A beat, before he adds with the smallest of wry smiles, “I already know that he has good taste.”
(His fear and jealousy have not been bested yet--but he is trying.)
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Devin takes a few breaths before he speaks, his embrace loose enough that his lover can move if he wants to. "He's... stubbornly patient," Devin begins softly, carefully. How much should he say? This can't be easy for the Fool. "And probably the only one of the hunter group who treats me like a person first and a vampire second." Including Devin himself, which Sam had been amiably arguing with him about for the better part of five months.
More wryly, Devin adds: "He takes no bullshit and he's hard to piss off."
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“I like him already,” the Fool replies, smiling a little more warmly, but he knows the words are not entirely truthful even as he speaks them aloud. He’s jealous; there’s no escaping it, and undoubtedly if he and Sam were ever forced to cross paths with each other, he would need time to prepare himself for it. Still, being gathered into Devin’s arms like this does plenty to assuage his fears, and with closed eyes he leans into the embrace and allows silence to settle around them.
For a moment or two more he says nothing. Then, his fingers curling slightly into the fabric near the small of Devin’s back, he says softly, “I would not leave you, either, were Fitz to come back.”
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But the Fool did say Devin looks at him and wants him like no one else has. Maybe he shouldn't be trying to compare himself to Fitz in the first place. That will take some work.
He tips his head down and presses a kiss into the Fool's hair. "I just wanted you to know ahead of time, in case it happens again," Devin says at length. "Hopefully it'll be over soon."