After the body swap..

[tu_vas_triompher]

The switch from the desk in his room to a branch halfway up an oak is, naturally, a bit of a surprise. Feuilly's physical reflexes catch up to it before his thoughts do. It saves him a broken arm, maybe a broken neck. Thank you, Bahorel, for taking his body up into a tree without warning. A tree in the center of some strange landscape of--art?

It's art. It's certainly art. It's Bahorel art, but it's art. An art installation, that's what they'd probably call it in the future. Whatever Bahorel is in the middle of, up this tree, it involves knots--a rope web--cooking-pan noisemakers strung like beads--a bolt of Lyon jacquard silk--

Extracting himself from the situation is enough to keep Feuilly from thinking too much about the paint? all over his arms: he looks like he's been painted on fire, red and gold swirls on black. His hair feels as if it's full of--something sticky. He's wearing--oh, never mind

When he walks through one of the back doors of the bar building, his first thought is to go straight to his room, wash, and hide for a week. Instead he takes a deep, deep breath, and goes to knock on Harry's door.

How bad is it?

Comments

[harryhotspur]

It's... well, Harry lasts entire seconds after opening the door, eyes wide, before bursting into helpless laughter. The dogs decide it's very important that they contribute to this noise with some noises of their own, and Lady noses frantically at Feuilly's knees, perhaps convinced that he really is on fire.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"It's that bad? It's...that bad. Hey, easy there, Lady, down. --I haven't even looked in the mirror yet. If I'd gone to my room I would have hidden for a week."

He tugs on his shirt, which is hanging open halfway down his chest.

[harryhotspur]

"Come in--" Harry gasps, stepping aside. "I pray thy pardon, I was not expecting-- it is not so very bad, 'twas merely a surprise--" It sounds super convincing. Really.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"I'm at least four different colors." Almost certainly more! He shuffles into the room, and gets his first proper look at himself in the mirror.

Well.

He prods at his hair.

"God knows what's under this shirt." Or anywhere else.

[harryhotspur]

Even Harry can't miss an opening like that.

"Perhaps thou hadst best remove it, to survey the full extent of his-- artistry," he says, completely innocently.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Yes, Feuilly's aware that it's an opening. Bahorel seems to have made up his mind that Feuilly's body needed to be looked at. It's not something Feuilly has ever done much of; if he has to now, well, might as well acknowledge it.

"I wish I had shaved his beard," he mutters, as he shrugs off the floppy shirt. And--is that--oh, for the love of--

The earring.

He glances sideways, grimacing, at Harry.

[harryhotspur]

The movement makes the gold catch the light, and Harry comes closer, gaping.

"Why, what a dandy he has made of thee!" he cries, laughing, once he has drawn close enough to properly inspect it. He takes the little ring, very carefully, between his fingers-- and from there it's really just a natural journey upwards to tug curiously at the colorful whatsit in Feuilly's hair. Harry makes a face at the texture.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"That--was already there. I haven't worn an earring in years, of course, but-- oh, God."

Yes, the texture of the hair is--odd. Not exactly sticky, but not exactly dry. Hard and spiky in some places, chalky in others. Feuilly would be paying more attention to it, but he's become aware of the tattoos on his forearm. Are those meant to be flags? He thinks he recognizes the eagle and serpent of Mexico--

Wait, wait, more importantly, are those real tattoos?

"I really regret not doing more to him while I could."

[harryhotspur]

"He would be untroubled by all this," Harry says. But more importantly: "--thou hadst an earring? When, and wherefore? In England 'twas the very courtier's fashion-- just so, with a pearl, perhaps, or other jewel."

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly groans, but he's laughing too. "It wasn't long after Bahorel came to Paris. We'd met once before--well--" He catches himself pushing at his oddly transformed hair. "He had a gold earring in his room. We had been talking about fashion--he had been talking about fashion--anyway I pierced my ear because he thought I wouldn't dare to. And I wore the foolish thing for at least a year. This was years ago," he says again.

[harryhotspur]

Harry lifts his brows. "Thou didst undertake some foolishness in the name of a dare?" Isn't that supposed to be his department?

[tu_vas_triompher]

"I was nineteen! --And all right, we'd been drinking. Here, I'll dare you to go put in an earring yourself, and you can show me how much wiser you are than I was. Go on, go ask Bar for one."

[harryhotspur]

"I would, and if thou dost not jest, I shall," Harry says at once. "But first methinks we should see thee rid of all thy fine plumage. Surely 'twill all wash away?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"--You would?" Feuilly blinks a little. All right.

But yes--washing up. "I hope so. It feels like it should wash off?" He prods at his painted arm. "Do you mind if I use your shower? It--I'll clean up if it makes a mess--"

[harryhotspur]

The answer to any dare is always going to be yes.

"Go, go," Harry says, waving towards it. "And fret not, I care not. I shall find thee another shirt, perhaps?" One with a front?

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Thanks." He'd argue about a change of trousers, too--Bahorel seems to have walked through a theater's costuming department, unsurprisingly--but does he really feel like dealing with hose?

There's a train of thought that follows, then, and Feuilly gives up on pretending it doesn't: before he heads to the shower, he puts a hand on Harry's arm and tugs him closer with a questioning look. They can kiss again, right? Harry is Harry and Léon is Léon, and there's nothing wrong with, say, a kiss?

[harryhotspur]

The eagerness with which Harry ducks his head to meet Feuilly's serves fairly eloquently for a yes. Yes, they can, and it feels like so long since they have without being prevented or interrupted by magic or even just by ordinary things.

Like dogs sniffing around to see what's up. Harry tries to swat them away without actually having to stop kissing Feuilly, which-- sort of works.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Sort of! But only sort of. Feuilly is trying to do the same, and ends up stepping on Harry's foot and breaking off to apologize, at which point Lady presses herself firmly between them, thumping them both with her wagging tail.

"--She's a good chaperon."

[harryhotspur]

"Good, ay," Harry agrees dryly. He pats Lady's head, then shuffled around her to Feuilly's other side, where he can, unimpeded and without another word, pull Feuilly towards him in an embrace.

Even as he does it he wonders why-- or rather, why aside from the fact that he wants to, that though Feuilly's mind and self have been present he has missed encountering them in their usual container, and now it's back and he just wants to hold it for a second.

[tu_vas_triompher]

That's quite all right. Feuilly feels rather the same; he presses his forehead against Harry's shoulder and closes his eyes and enjoys the moment of stillness. "--Do you think we might have a few days without any bizarre magical happenings? A week, even?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry snorts-- which gives him a good whiff of that stuff in Feuilly's hair, which has a decidedly unpleasant smell.

"'Twould be a miracle indeed," he says. "Is it strange to say I missed thee, though thou wert not gone?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

There's the stuff in his hair, and the stuff on his face, which Feuilly is belatedly worried might rub off on Harry's clothing: he straightens up a bit. "No, but--I do feel as though I was away. Like I was--oh--visiting someone else's rooms and didn't want to, to--use up their candles or scuff their floors--"

He breaks off and scratches his head, which feels very strange. "--I guess I know what sort of house-guest Bahorel is, now. This stuff had better wash off. At least--"

Look, he's not entirely certain he wants the flag tattoo to be temporary. Well--yes, he does, but--

[harryhotspur]

"I think in this case thou needst not have feared," he says. Bahorel plainly was far less concerned about scuffing the floors. Or, indeed, painting the walls. "Go, wash thyself. Unless thou wouldst remain so?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

Well, when you put it like that-- Feuilly snorts, and gives Harry's shoulder a shove that's more like a pat, and heads over to the shower.

This may take a while.

[harryhotspur]

That's alright, Harry is incredibly patient.

Wait, no he's not. But he fills the time by wrestling around with Lady, then sneaking out and hunting down a waitrat to order them some food, then digging around for a clean shirt for Feuilly to borrow, and some hose if he wants them-- though he figures Feuilly will prefer to find some trousers after his own fashion.

Then he jumps on the bed a little bit.

Finally he calls out, "Hast need of help?"