(no subject)

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly's new commission has rather shuffled around his usual schedule. The man wants it as soon as possible, so--as soon as possible Feuilly will have it. But it's an ambitious project for him. And ambitious means research. Lots of reference material. Reclining nudes. Reclining nudes with their faces turned away to show the curve of the neck. And boudoirs. Artistic lady's boudoirs.

Really, though, by the time you're sitting there trying to figure out how necks work, much of the eroticism has worn off. Or at least gotten pushed well out of the way. He fills some pages with sketches of naked ladies--and sketches of beds, painted screens, birdcages--then pats Hector on the head and calls it a reasonable day's work.

Off to grab a practice sword and fence a bit with Harry.

Comments

[harryhotspur]

Harry grins and lowers his sword. "Ay, very good. And then, perchance thou wilt win. -- but thou dost grow in skill, canst tell?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

He's already red in the face so maybe it doesn't show that he blushes? Maybe? He also shrugs and tugs on a place where his workman's blouse is stuck, sweaty, to his back. "Well--I do feel a little less lost."

That's probably as close to a yes as you'll get him.

[harryhotspur]

"It is a start," Harry says cheerfully, coming over to sling an arm around Feuilly's shoulders and completely undo whatever shirt-tugging has just been done.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly, a grown man, respected by his peers, takes his fingertip and pokes Harry over the heart. "And now I have you."

Scary dagger?

[harryhotspur]

"Ah!" He claps his hand over Feuilly's. "Thou hast me indeed! A foul betrayal."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"What do you expect from a vile Frenchman?"

There's no one around; he ducks his head onto Harry's shoulder. "Have you eaten supper?"

[harryhotspur]

"I have not," he says. He works his fingers idly into Feuilly's hair. "Such summer days, I scarce notice the evening until the night has come. Hast thou?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Um." Mmm. Mmmmmm. "--No, I haven't. We could." You know. Eat supper or something. "Or, I don't know." Watch another film or walk by the lake or...whatever.

It's easier to think when Harry isn't rubbing the back of his head like that.

[harryhotspur]

"Perchance thou'rt weary," says Harry Percy, picture of innocence. "Perchance thou wouldst first retire to the stable and rest thyself."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh, I'm not--" Wait, hang on. "Well. Maybe for a moment."

[harryhotspur]

Theeere you go. Harry steers them both back towards the stable, and makes it almost all the way before the door before he turns Feuilly towards him and kisses him. It's the usual kind of clumsy urgency that characterizes his kissing, well, most of the time, but particularly after they've been practicing-- only somehow more so, more effort, perhaps, to try and make a kiss say what he does not entirely know how to, to make it apologize for whatever happened, or almost happened, between them before.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Harry doesn't need kisses to apologize; he came close enough to it with words as far as Feuilly is concerned. (Lesgle might like a more convincing apology than he got, but probably not in this fashion.)

But even if he doesn't need further apology, Feuilly will take the reassurance. He's pushed Harry too, lately. Pushed him about his--dreams. (Not his death. Because that's--ah, damn, they still didn't quite manage to talk about that, did they? Well, never mind for now.)

When he has his breath back, Feuilly laughs. "You're going to scandalize Duncan."

[harryhotspur]

Harry glances over at Duncan, who does indeed seem to be looking down his long nose at them.

"Thinkest thou he is grown bashful now? He has seen it before."

--which does have the unfortunate effect of reminding Harry that they are still basically in public. He pulls away slightly.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Ah, to hell with being in public, they--

No, damn, now Feuilly's been reminded too. He stands a fraction straighter and rubs the back of his neck. "Well--you keep saying what a, a gentle soul he is--"

They've progressed to awkward joking.

[harryhotspur]

Harry laughs. "And what has gentleness to do with--" mmmmthings. Nevermind. Anything that even brushes against trying to articulate what is going on is entirely beyond him.

"Let us to supper," he says, because that seems to be the only logical way to proceed. --but then again. "Though belike we should first seek some clean garments."

[tu_vas_triompher]

Yes, right, things. Feuilly's ears go a little pinker just thinking about how to finish that sentence.

"Oh-- Oh, yes. A fresh shirt would be good--"

And now he's aware that he's, he's making excuses for things, and--

[harryhotspur]

Yes, at this rate, they're going to dig themselves a proper hole of self-consciousness. So Harry retrieves his sword, gives Feuilly a friendly shove as he passes, and sets off back towards the bar. Everything's fine! It's cool! They need to change, obviously, that's perfectly normal.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly has to jog-trot a few paces to catch up to him and return the friendly shove. But once they've settled that, he rests an arm on Harry's shoulders.

It's not as though they couldn't both use a change of clothes.

[harryhotspur]

Exactly! So that's what they're going to do.

When they reach the place in the corridor where naturally they must part, each to their own room, Harry pauses.

"Wouldst--" why has this suddenly become embarrassing "--wouldst borrow a shirt of me?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh--sure, that's--"

Why is he even trying to finish this sentence? He has to laugh. "Yes. Let's do that."

[harryhotspur]

Let's both just stop talking! That seems to be for the best. And by the time they arrive at Harry's room, he has decided to abandon the pretense as well-- well, as soon as the door is shut anyway.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Yeah, the walk to the room has allowed Feuilly to muster his forces of--of whatever is required to kiss someone without being crippled by bashfulness. See what a bold fellow he is? Kissing Harry firmly and without pretense, putting his hands firmly and without pretense on Harry's hips, steering him...well...almost firmly and without pretense over to the bed.

[harryhotspur]

Bravo Feuilly! Harry will be steered, and if an extra nudge is needed to actually get them onto the bed, he will provide it.

But then, after maybe a moment or two, he will pause, one hand buried in Feuilly's hair, and say breathlessly and (oddly, perhaps, given their present position) almost shyly, "I would have thee think well of me. Of all things, I would have that."

[tu_vas_triompher]

It makes Feuilly catch his own breath and sit up a little. He studies Harry's face. "Well, and I do think well of you. I think you are--"

He sits up a little more, pushing Harry gently back, because he doesn't want this to sound like it comes out of--well--present circumstances. "I think you are one of the, the truest men I know."

[harryhotspur]

His smile of bright, frank pleasure is boyish and faintly surprised.

"I would say the same of thee," he replies. "I know not the way to say what else thou art, as I have never had cause to learn the words to-- I have not ever known someone like thee."

The qualities he knows how to praise in the highest terms don't apply, and he feel faintly embarrassed, to be praising a man for something other than feats in arms.