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 Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2014 6:52 pm
"Good," said Alistaire decisively, sliding a glance towards Harland. He allowed himself to watch him for a few more moments, gaze moving across the strong jawline, the coppery colored hair that fell in waves to his shoulders; the faint glint of silver just below his lip and on the side of his nose. Harland was perhaps not conventionally handsome, like the plastic, too perfect models seen in magazines; but there was something undeniably attractive about him; a certain strength and ease that was extraordinarily appealing.
Alistaire dragged his eyes away, determined to focus.
"So you pull them forward," he repeated, as Harland demonstrated, and Alistaire swung a gloved hand outwards, not summoning his own weapon, but doing the motions without it, fingers outstretched. "I do my own work of ridding ourselves of them while you keep some at bay..." He frowned slightly, drawing his hand in to tap thoughtfully at his chin as he paced a little, his thoughts directed at the proposed strategy. "Which could be an issue if there are too many; you could be overrun by them if there is a large group."
He turned around to look at Harland, found he was standing much too close, and nearly fell over in his haste at stepping backwards, face flushed. His gloved fingers had automatically reached out as he'd tilted, latching onto the sleeve of Harland's shirt to maintain his balance.
Alistaire took a deep, slightly breath and withdrew his hand.
"You can use them however you wish to," he said, and then added, in a quieter tone of voice, "Two minutes so far."
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Posted: Wed Aug 13, 2014 10:27 pm
It hadn't often occurred to Harland that he could be any kind of handsome. Alistaire, on the other hand... Harland thought back, now and then, to how Alistaire had looked to him before he had known him. When they were strangers, and Alistaire had a predatory way of pacing around him, of eying him up like he was looking for the weak points. Harland didn't really play that way. It had worked in his advantage, it seemed.
For whatever reason, Alistaire had asked for his help, but Harland had fallen a lot deeper than he thought he could. His new life on Deus and Alistaire's influence meant that Harland was dressing visibly better, cleaner, more like Alistaire than he used to dress himself. Now and then, though, it was still possible to catch him in a pair of worn jeans and one of his cigarette-burnt shirts from his old life. It was pretty rare for the latter.
Back to the present, out of the vast expanse of his memories, Harland watched Alistaire motion his fighting style. "If it's a problem, I'll be sweepin' 'em at the base in the hopes it destabilizes long enough t' get ahead... we'll have t' come up with another strategy for other kinds of creatures, mind, but I look forward to more easy minutes..." Harland grinned devilishly.
And then Alistaire was nearly falling, reaching out and latching onto Harland's shirt sleeve. Harland felt like his heart was loud enough that it would wake up the Hunters in their dormitories, as he immediately desummoned Coyote and reached his other arm out to brace Alistaire. Harland squeezed Alistaire's hand just once, briefly, before he withdrew it. "An' I feel like it's worth mentionin'... if ye ever fell, I'd pick ye back up again-- well, or ye'd already be pickin' me back up in the first place, which's happened on more'n one occassion," Harland said, with a laugh. He tilted his head, then, regarding Alistaire.
There wasn't just longing on Harland's face, as he brushed the fallen hair out of his eyes. It was softness, and dedication, and gratitude, and some other four-letter choice words that he'd been trying so hard to keep equally hidden. Both with an L, both too much a risk for something so precious to him.
"Then I'll keep savin' 'em, no matter how badly I'd like to interrupt for even those two minutes," Harland said, his voice hushed. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, grabbed a tie out of his pocket and tied his hair back out of his face.
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Posted: Thu Aug 14, 2014 11:39 am
"As long as you aren't overtaken by a hoard of creatures, it's a good strategy," said Alistaire musingly. "But there should be an alternative solution to when there are multiple targets; it would be ill advised to rush headlong into a situation where we are to be easily overcome." He couldn't help the roll of his eyes. "That is what the reckless Sun Division does."
The sun sigil emblazoned on Alistaire's own coat, currently draped neatly over the back of a chair in his room, was a constant and annoying reminder of his current division; a division he loathed purely on instinct and because of his previous statement about them being reckless. Thankfully, however, his transfer to Life was eminent, as well as a promotion, which meant that he could be out of their midst as soon as he was able.
Alistaire could feel the warmth of Harland's hand over his own, even with his gloves on, and it sent ripples of mingled anxiety and a longing of his own washing over him. He stood there, his chest feeling tight, and again, it was like whatever Harland said seemed to sink into him like heat; and the look he was giving him was almost unbearable, the emotions raw and open.
It was difficult to look at because he felt unworthy of everything Harland was giving him.
"...you already do that," he said stiffly, and then, in a quieter tone of voice, soft so that it was hardly audible, "You already pick me up when I fall."
He wasn't looking at Harland anymore, but he could still feel the heat and the weight of his gaze at his back. A strange, almost overwhelming desire to turn around and close the distance between them, bury himself against Harland's chest and let himself be held by the man who stood near him almost overtook Alistaire, and for a moment he swayed, slightly dizzy.
He shook his head just once, as though to clear it, and tilted his head slightly towards Harland again.
"Three minutes. Any more ideas in that curious head of yours?"
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Posted: Sun Sep 07, 2014 9:27 pm
Harland listened to Alistaire's points. "It's true, an' I'm not--" Harland was about to say he wasn't that kind of guy, when he looked at Alistaire a little funny, as if to say You're Sun Division. "Is that why ye've become so much a risk taker as to be sneakin' around with me? Sun nature?" Harland teased him. He puffed a fallen lock of hair out of his face, and winked at Alistaire, a sunny grin following.
"In any case, what I was thinkin' was so long's I can keep our opponents off-balance they shouldnae be able to advance, but it's true if there's too many I might not be able t' sweep fast enough t' keep 'em at bay..." Harland looked at the candles with concern. "If that becomes the case, mo chroi, I'd ask if ye'd mind if I pull a protective measure-- I can maybe make a sort o' tornado around us, with the razor wire an' all, should keep us safe in an emergency. Not much of a good solution either, though-- want t' fix our plan for me?" Harland joked, pressing his hands together as if praying to Alistaire, his lips against his thumbs, gunmetal green eyes looking at Alistaire around his own calloused hands. Then he started to beam. "I feel the tornado plan's worth at least another minute," he declared, confidently. He was just playing.
He didn't know what to do, or say, when Alistaire said that Harland already did that, already picked him up. He didn't look away, or say anything, but kept his eyes on Alistaire, and stood a little closer, as much as he could, leaning in so he could whisper close to Alistaire's neck: "There's never been a poet, not a single word and narry a phrase that's ever buried in me the way that your voice can." Harland didn't know what else to say, he was just overcome with something to complex to give it words. Gratitude, love, longing, desire, desperation, joy, determination-- hope for the future.
Above all, that hope. He had been broken, discarded, and found again now that he had picked himself up and brushed himself off. When he'd thought no one would ever look his way again, Alistaire had. And Harland was loyal, without hesitation or exception.
"Four!" Harland adjusted the time, to take into account the demand that the tornado count as another. "There's got to be at least one more... Aerial attacks, for example, I can still pull 'em down from the sky-- provided they're not too large, I imagine. If they're large enough, too big t' pull down, perhaps ye'd consider lettin' me hold on like..." Harland stood behind Alistaire, reached one arm out and gently circled it around Alistaire's waist, reached the other out as if Coyote was about to latch on to something in the sky. "Big enough opponent an' I'm bettin' we could hitch a ride right up there, an' then the knives?" Harland was hoping Alistaire had some input.
He started to move away, taking a step back, so that Alistaire could answer.
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Posted: Mon Sep 08, 2014 10:34 pm
Alistaire liked to conveniently forget that he was Sun Division, and would hopefully be transferring out of the wretched faction as soon as he was promoted. At least, that was the plan; whether or not it actually would work remained to be seen, but since Alistaire was determined, chances were it would come to pass just by sheer force of will.
It was too bad other things weren't quite so easily achieved.
He shot Harland a half exasperated, half annoyed look, though there was a tinge of amusement in the quirk of his lips partially upwards, almost as though he was hiding a smile. Risk taking, indeed, Alistaire thought, as he gazed at Harland.
"A tornado?" Alistaire repeated, frowning slightly as he considered this. "I suppose that could work, since I assume you mean metaphorically. If you have the opportunity to do so, it could work out well enough as it is; we have the basics down, so all that needs doing is putting things into action."
He would have commented on the cheeky "at least another minute" quip, but all words failed when he heard the heavy footfall of Harland stepping nearer, and this his voice, low and rough and familiar, against the back of his neck. Alistaire stiffened, hissing in a breath through his teeth, which he hadn't realized he'd been clenching. And Harland was talking about his voice, but it was Harland's voice that was so intense that sometimes Alistaire felt as though he were drowning in it.
He hardly heard what Harland was talking about; something about aerial (Good idea, said the more rational part of his mind, the part that was not clouded by anxiety and a mixture of confusing, conflicting emotions, good idea - try to get the ones out of the sky first because those are dangerous and hard to keep track of.), except all he could hear now was a rushing noise and then he could feel Harland's arm around his waist, and his chest felt so tight he couldn't breathe.
Harland had learned, apparently; Harland was touching him more now, there was less hesitating, less treating Alistaire as though he were made of glass; and a part of Alistaire found this reassuring and even exciting, while it warred with his more anxious side, panic and fear rising in his throat. It was like having two people inside of himself, both with emotions that he couldn't handle.
One of Alistaire's gloved hands closed around Harland's arm before he could slide it away, digging his fingers into his wrist to keep him steady. Alistaire took a single step backwards and felt his back hit something solid - no doubt Harland's broad chest. He stood there a moment, swaying slightly, and then tilted his head back so that it fell against Harland's shoulder, and he shifted a little, turned so that he could see Harland's face. It was difficult, with what little light they had left, but the moonlight cast an eerie glow against his ruddy cheeks, and Alistaire sucked in a sharp breath.
Slowly, very slowly, he let go of Harland's hand and twisted around; and then he gave in, curling himself against Harland's chest, Alistaire pressing his face into the nook where Harland's shoulder slid into his neck, Alistaire's arms sliding around Harland's waist to dig his fingers into his back.
"I don't understand you," he said quietly. "I don't understand why you care so much about me."
He had asked the question before, and had had it answered so much that now it felt rhetorical asking it, but the answer wasn't getting through to him. Alistaire still could not fathom why someone as insanely optimistic and as big a dreamer as Harland Leander Belle was, was hanging around someone like...well, him.
"This is ludicrous," Alistaire muttered. "Absolutely ludicrous."
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Posted: Tue Sep 09, 2014 7:11 am
The notion that anyone would even want to change divisions was pretty foreign to Harland. Then again, he'd been placed in his exact match, on almost an eerie level: why would he want to be anything but Death? Life had its perks, he'd seen that, but it wasn't quite right. Harland didn't want to research, he wanted to gather intel; he didn't want to study in labs, he wanted to observe in action. That was where Death suited him, he suspected. He had the bravado of Sun, but the personality of Death, and that was where he was happy.
The half-hidden smile was not lost on Harland, and only seemed to fuel his ridiculous grin. "I certainly hope metaphorically," Harland agreed, with an awkward grimace at himself. "Otherwise we'd just be in a tornado. That seems, to me, like a step backwards," he joked, cheerfully.
Admittedly, he had no intention of using this on Alistaire without practicing it a hundred times alone, for a hundred hours. When he finally stopped attacking his own FEAR shield with the razor wire, then he'd test it. He would never intentionally do anything that could put Alistaire in danger; for all his ridiculous personality, Harland was pretty thoughtful. He was a planner. If that hadn't been obvious from their elaborate date, it would probably never become so.
There was a time, in fact there were many times, when Harland would have been afraid of touching Alistaire like this without asking for permission. After their time in the showers, however, he couldn't help it-- Harland figured it was time to gently move forward, the way they had been all along. The stronger Alistaire got, the faster they would have to move, or he would never make progress.
At least, that was the rational excuse for Harland's new-found bravery. If you were to ask his heart why he did what he did, it would have been simply because I need to touch him, some part of me aches with his absence, and I can only sustain that pain for so long.
Harland himself probably started to trail off, when he felt Alistaire close around his arm, and felt his fingers dig into his own wrist. The step backwards just made Harland adjust his broad arms even better to hold Alistaire, as if their bodies fit naturally in this position. Unlike Alistaire's swaying, Harland was steady. Harland was always meant to be steady. He sighed, at first, unwittingly, as Alistaire let go and twisted-- moments later, however, Alistaire was curled against his chest, and Harland slid one hand to the small of Alistaire's back, the other set to gently and firmly rubbing Alistaire's shoulders. Harland rested his cheek against Alistaire's head.
"Oh, mo chroi. I'll tell you every day why it is you're so important to me, and I'll do it without hesitation," Harland said, his voice low, his expression open. He was glad it was dark enough, that Alistaire wasn't looking; not for the first time, Harland could feel the way his emotions showed on his face. It was impossible for someone like him to hide that. "If all we do is look at a canvas a painter's just set upon an' say this paintin' doesn't make any sense," Harland began, "then we're doin' ourselves and them a disservice in a terrible way. When I got to know ye, I saw somethin' 'an that somethin' was ... the kind of paintin' I'd wait any time for." Harland smiled against Alistaire.
"So I'd say it's not ludicrous at all, mo chroi. It's the most sense I've ever heard. Even if it gets difficult, an' there comes a time when we've had our first... well, second fight," Harland said, with a laugh, thinking of the day that Alistaire had circled him and they'd put the argument to rest quite literally with a battle. "Even if there comes a time when we're arguin', I'll still look at you and see the elegance, the strength, the intelligence, the sharp determination... all the things that make me respect ye, an that make me-- hmm," Harland said, humming low in his throat.
"Mhm," he finished, as if that was the word he'd been looking for.
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Posted: Tue Sep 09, 2014 8:40 am
He hated being as indecisive as he was. There were moments when Alistaire thought it better to just leave now, before he got too attached (Impossible, his brain told him, he was already too attached, emotionally attached, mentally attached, he could no longer see a way out even if he had truly had the strength to pull away); but maybe it would be better to stay, to let things run their course and see where they ended up.
That was the more applicable road and yet simultaneously the most terrifying because if there was one thing Alistaire disliked, it was not being in control, most of all over himself. This...whatever it was...with Harland was something he hadn't been able to control, and it was like deciding to leap out of a plane without a parachute and just trust that things would turn out all right at the end.
Alistaire had never really been particularly good at trusting and it showed blatantly obviously through all of his facades and careful masks. Harland had seen straight through them for a man who claimed himself not to be very bright; he gave himself too little credit in that area.
Harland's words fell around him, slid through his veins, and Alistaire could almost hear the loud, erratic beating of his own heart. There was still that ache inside of him that longed to pull away, to drown himself in the shower and scrub away every inch of everything unclean - but the other part of him, the part that was growing steadily larger with each passing day, ached to stay exactly where he was. Harland's arms were warm and his large hands were soothing and familiar.
A short silence followed the remainder of Harland's words, and Alistaire tried not to let the full impact of them make him more dizzy than he already was. He felt lightheaded with everything, horribly caught off balance, his fingers trembling as he dug them harder into Harland's back, curling into his shirt and gripping tightly. Finally, he said, his voice low, "I suppose that's worth a good five minutes on its own."
Alistaire lifted his head, and his face was mere inches away from Harland's, his dark eyes half hidden by the shadows of the night around them. His gaze dropped down to Harland's mouth, to the little piercing that lay just beneath his lower lip, and then back up again to meet Harland's eyes, a flash of what appeared to be something akin to pain momentarily crossing Alistaire's face.
"You're too good for me," he whispered, and maybe it was just a combination of everything, but he seemed surprisingly childlike in his admission, abruptly honest. "I'll break you."
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Posted: Tue Sep 09, 2014 9:36 am
The longer he held Alistaire, the more Harland started to feel guilty for so selfishly grabbing on to him in the first place. He didn't ever want to make Alistaire feel more anxious; the truth of it was Harland would only nudge Alistaire, urge him forward, and had no desire to control anything at all. That was, probably, why they had stumbled their way this far. Harland was completely fine giving Alistaire the reins, and suggesting they move forward now and again.
Harland hadn't wanted nor expected anything, and given he had not anticipated this, he was just content to be in it. As terrifying as it might be. What scared Harland was almost exactly in the opposite direction, or perhaps very alike what Alistaire worried about: he hadn't meant to fall in love, and become so attached. He hadn't meant to let someone change him so subtly and profoundly. He hadn't meant for his body to respond, naturally, to Alistaire's own movements. Now that it did, now that he felt this way, it was harder day by day to keep his cool. It was crucial, it was terrifying, it was dizzying. It was a terrible game in which he tried to hide how he felt, and knew he was failing.
He just hoped he could buy himself enough time.
The silence didn't bother Harland. Silence never really did. Harland listened to the sound of his heart, or was it Alistaire's? Listened to their breathing, and the night around them. He let his mind fall into peace, and just lived. He smiled, for no apparent reason, other than that in this moment, he was living, and he was holding Alistaire. Those things were enough.
Harland sucked in a breath and his body pushed against Alistaire for a moment, responding to the way he'd dug his fingers into Harland's back suddenly with more fervour. He hoped that Alistaire meant he would get another five minutes to his alotted time, and not that he'd spent the five minutes. He would optimistically assume the former. And he smiled, because it meant he had maybe done well. Even if Alistaire digging into his back was making it very difficult not to want to crush his mouth against Alistaire's and taste him again.
The flash of something like pain over Alistaire's face made Harland's brows stoop with a troubled expression, at first. It softened to kindness, to patience. To the same steadfast look Harland always seemed to get. "I am no such thing, and--" Harland shook his head, exhaling amusedly, "In all honesty, mo chroi, I'm not much for breakin'. When I hit the bottom, there's nothin' left but to climb back up again, so... if that's your only worry, my heart, ye can go ahead an' do your best t' try, but you'll find I'm stubborn an' often snap right back into place." Harland shook his head, and smiled.
He kissed Alistaire's forehead. "Besides, maybe if I break, I'll be remoulded into somethin' out of legend. Like a demigod," he joked, shifting his weight onto one hip and while still holding Alistaire with the other flexed his newly free arm. "Face it," he finished, "I'm just not scared of ye."
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2014 10:28 pm
There was a part of Alistaire, a part of him that was steadily growing larger, that didn't mind so much when Harland was the one who took control sometimes. Alistaire himself was used to being the one to hold the reins, but sometimes it was easier to let Harland make the decision for him, to close the distance between them first, because then Alistaire could make the excuse later that it had been Harland all along.
Except those excuses were running thinner and thinner, and so was the space between them.
Alistaire could feel Harland leaning against him, and his breath caught in his throat, his mouth feeling dry. He had meant five more minutes on top of his already previously gained time, though he decided it didn't need saying yet, Alistaire still holding onto Harland tightly. Half of it was because he was forcing himself to, because there was still that terrible part of him that wanted to pull away, but it was at war with the other half of him that wanted to stay right where he was.
Harland's voice was soft and gentle, and his kiss to Alistaire's forehead even more so. Alistaire's eyes fluttered a little at the tender gesture, his chest feeling tight, and how was it that someone could be so damned positive all the time? Was it foolishness or was it just that good nature of his? Alistaire still hadn't figured it out, and he gave a soft snort, amused in spite of himself, at the demigod comment.
"I'm just not scared of you."
Such a strange, foreign concept. Ian had never been scared of him - Ian had been dismissive of him, and Alistaire had always regretted that, though he'd never said it. Harland, on the other hand, who was supposed to have been afraid of him, wasn't scared of him in the slightest, and it was a terrifying concept.
Alistaire leaned back a little, shaking his head as his arms slid slightly, his grip loosening.
"If we're finished here, I'd like to go back," he said quietly. And then, after a short pause, "Let me stay in your room tonight again."
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Posted: Thu Sep 11, 2014 10:48 pm
One of these days, Harland was just going to ask Tell me what you need, and I will get that for you. What could the answer even be, on that day? Would Alistaire know? What they needed, and what they wanted: the disparity was so drastic, at times, how could either of them be sure. Harland, for one, never quite believed in either. He was just happy.
And that was sometimes a lie: he wanted things and he tried to convince himself that he didn't, that he could be some kind of saint who never got upset and never got hurt and never wanted more than he had. Harland was really patient, but he wasn't a deity of loveliness. Sometimes he just wanted to push Alistaire against a wall and kiss him hard, and not stop.
Sometimes that's what he got, when Alistaire was in the right mind. Sometimes it was Alistaire doing the pinning. Harland liked that too.
Maybe it was the stress of constantly being maybe about to die that made it so urgent to be with Alistaire now; it was relaxing, as much as it was fraught with peril and miscommunication. All in all, Harland actually felt more in tune with Alistaire than he didn't. Harland, in fact, felt like he could really sing to what Alistaire represented.
Not literally. Harland could not hold a tune even if he had a bucket for it.
Being positive was a survival mechanism. When he lost his father, his mother, had no family, and no home, and slept on the floor of his office with literally two shirts to his name (okay, figuratively, there were no shirts in his name) all he could do was stay positive. Being optimistic was the one thing that no one, in his eyes, could take from him. And whoever it was that thought it was a cruel and hilarious joke to make his life so little could kiss his Irish--
He was optimistic because he wanted to be, essentially.
"I'm havin' a hard time concentratin' now, it's true," Harland lamented, "Apologies, mo chroi. Perhaps we can put this into practice another evenin'," he said. He didn't even really let the words sink in, until moments later. "Gladly," he said, "it'd be my pleasure."
Harland meant it. He meant it harder than almost anything he had said before it in those couple moments. He kissed Alistaire's forehead tenderly one more time, before relinquishing his grip. "Anythin' we need t' pick up from your room?" he asked, eager to make sure Alistaire had whatever he needed to be comfortable both at night and in the morning. Now that he had some warning, he may as well make sure of that.
For a second, Harland looked off towards the dorms, and pretended they were a couple. A real one, one where he could bring Alistaire-- where, home to meet the family? laughable and introduce him and say Is é seo mo bhuachaill, and be proud like he knew he would be. Harland smiled, ran a hand through his hair, and collected the candles before they headed back. It was fine to dream, but tonight he was sleeping beside Alistaire, and that meant he was already a lot happier than he had been anyway. Harland didn't take those things for granted.
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Posted: Fri Sep 12, 2014 10:02 am
He wished, not for the first time, that he wasn't the sort of person he was. But then he pushed that thought away, because he was this person and it didn't matter anymore; he was who he was, and it was fruitless to believe that he was anything else. Alistaire knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was changing little by little, but in his heart it was taking a while to actually understand that.
Hearing that Harland was having trouble concentrating made Alistaire's face flush a little, because he was half certain of the reason for that. Still, he leaned back and glanced up at the cowboy, his cheeks red, but he said nothing at all except a small hum of satisfaction. The kiss to his forehead was received with the smallest and the faintest of smiles before it disappeared, and then Alistaire stepped back, shaking his head as Harland's arms slipped around him.
"No," he said, "I don't need anything from my room."
Not that he would have gotten anything anyway. Harland was gathering up the candles again, and Alistaire stood off to the side waiting until he was finished before he started walking again. His chest still felt a little tight, but going to Harland's room at night was starting to become easier. All he did was sleep; there was nothing else that had happened, at least not yet, but there was something reassuring about having Harland's presence near. Alistaire's own room was relatively off limits; Ian could walk in anytime, but Harland's room was a secret, safe haven where it was just the two of them.
"Your lesson was good," said Alistaire quietly, after they had been walking for a few moments and were nearing the dormitory building. "The ideas were intelligently thought out."
A lame compliment, perhaps, but a compliment nonetheless; which, coming from Alistaire, was rather a success anyway.
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Posted: Thu Sep 18, 2014 11:31 pm
Harland had only grown to feel so strongly about Alistaire because of who he was. Alistaire had caught him completely by surprise, and by doing so, allowed Harland to expose the parts of him that were often inaccessible. Perhaps that was why Harland had gotten to Alistaire, too; the unexpected connection created a bridge from one to the other, allowing them to travel freely where few others walked.
Whatever the reason (and Harland actually did contemplate this on a regular basis), they were irrideemably wound around each other. Tear at one, and it would tear at the other. Regardless of how they felt about that connection, it was there. Harland admired the way that Alistaire looked when he was blushing, and the small hum of satisfaction felt like being lit from the inside; not by something burning, but rather illuminating. It felt good.
Harland nodded, when Alistaire said he didn't need anything, but didn't reply. He was just watching Alistaire for a second longer, with a curious smile. His face turned red, and he looked away. Harland liked sleeping next to Alistaire, whether or not anything was happening yet.
He was, again, startled by Alistaire's compliment. In fact, he almost stopped walking, and paused strangely for a moment before continuing. He didn't know what to say.
"I appreciate it," he began, finally, "an' they'd better be. There's only the one of you, an' if somethin' were to happen to ye, I could never find anyone that'd fit this particular hole in my heart. You're pretty one of a kind," Harland said, laughing.
"An' bein' well-prepared's the first step in gettin' through this alive, so I can keep discoverin', well, everythin'," Harland added. He ran a hand through his wavy hair.
It wasn't long until they were at Harland's room, and he opened the door, retreating quickly into its shadows, because if no one could see them, then he could kiss Alistaire goodnight. That was the plan, at least.
That, and strip his shirt off, and sleep under his own blanket in boxer briefs. He wasn't about to sleep fully clothed again.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 2:45 pm
He felt faintly embarrassed for being so openly complimentary of Harland, but there wasn't really anything he could say to that, because it was true. Harland had done well in researching a method on which the two of them to work, and it had been carefully thought out and organized. Still, Alistaire was not used to being so blatant, and he felt his face flush; things seemed to be changing inside of him, something he couldn't control, and it frightened him.
They'd slept together in the same bed twice now, and each time he felt a little more relaxed, a little less tense, a little too much like he liked it, like he wanted to be there. The warmth was nearly overwhelming, but a part of him craved it, wanted to wrap himself in it and let it surround him.
His face was red. Alistaire's hand twitched, almost imperceptibly, as though he'd very nearly almost reached for Harland's fingers but stopped. After a small moment, he said, slightly hoarsely, "...thank you."
They were nearly at Harland's room, and then they were inside, and he could feel the breath leave him as quickly as it had come. The door was pushed shut behind Alistaire and he stood there in the near darkness, his chest constricting, and silently he raised his gaze to meet Harland's, anxiety welling in the pit of his stomach.
He leaned back against the closed door and waited.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 6:48 pm
How many days was Harland going to pretend to keep this secret? Alistaire had unravelled him in ways he hadn't expected, and despite the element of unknown to this whole thing, he was scared in an exhilarating way: like climbing the track of a roller coaster, and eventually he knew that he'd fall, and he'd be terrified but it would turn into joy. That was what it was like, watching Alistaire as they made it back to his own room. He didn't expect anything to come of the night, never expected anything, but perhaps that was one of the reasons why these nights worked? He expected nothing, loved every moment of it.
Loved more than just the moments.
Harland's face was equally red, and not for the first time he was glad they both blushed equally easily. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Mm," was his only reply. Alistaire felt embarrassed giving compliments, and Harland hilariously felt embarrassed when he received a response to compliments. He didn't really know what to say in response, since he sometimes forgot that Alistaire actually heard such unabashedly true things, as if somehow meaning them should make them inaudible.
"Is it frightenin' with the lights off, mo chroi?" Harland teased him, referring to the way Alistaire leaned and waited. Harland dropped the bag with its candles by the door, leaned past Alistaire to hang his hat up beside the door, and then promptly pulled his shirt off. He folded it loosely, setting it into his basket of dirty laundry by the door. "So, do ye always sleep fully clothed?" he said. "I don't mean anythin' by it, don't get me wrong-- not that I don't, mm--" Harland was vivid red, by this point, as though he'd been drinking. Obviously, he hadn't been. He busied himself taking the bag of candles up off the floor and laying them back across his desk like he usually had them. He folded the bag up, and set it inside his closet. "It's not difficult t' guess that I'd want to strip you-- pardon my boldness--" he said, "an' press my hands down your back an' feel each groove of your spine," he continued, and then cleared his throat, shaking his head. He undid the tie holding his hair back, still not daring to look at Alistaire.
"But... I'm still plannin' on sleepin' with a cover between us, an' only gettin' as close as I might without harmin' you," he said. He lit two of the tall, fat candles on his desk and then turned to look at Alistaire, still bright red. He had kicked off his cowboy boots at some point, and stood there in the flickering light in just his socks and his jeans. "Maybe we can strip one thing at a time, one thing a night, an' slowly get comfortable sleepin' not fully dressed," Harland suggested, looping his thumbs into his belt loops.
He hoped his heaving chest wasn't betraying his racing heart.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 7:51 pm
Alistaire shook his head slowly from one side to the other; the darkness wasn't what scared him, it was everything else that scared him. His loss of control, his inability to stay away from Harland Leander Belle, his stupid, ridiculous problem (which, granted, he was trying to overcome, but it didn't make it any less problematic or any less frightening, because right now it was something he could rely on, something he could fall back on, something he could use as an excuse, and once it was gone, once he'd beaten it, there would be no more excuses). Everything seemed just somehow more in the dark, and it wasn't so much the dark as it was everything else.
He'd forgotten how to breathe. His chest felt so tight that it was almost bursting, and Alistaire stayed frozen where he stood, his back against the door, his heart beating an erratic, staccato rhythm against his ribs. Every word Harland spoke, every movement (when he leaned close he could feel the warmth radiating off of the other, and the words were like drops of liquid fire that pooled in his veins, making his head spin dizzily, and he was taking off his shirt, and his chest was bare) seemed to hit him with the force of a javelin. Heat spread from his face throughout his entire body, and he couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to.
There was silence for several long moments while Alistaire just stared at Harland. He swallowed hard - it was almost painful - and his gloved hands dug into the wood of the closed door, fingers pressed tightly against it. He took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Only - "
His voice failed him. He felt utterly exhausted and yet simultaneously as though every nerve was on end, every part of him was on edge, as tense as a tightly coiled spring that was about to snap at any second. With a great amount of effort (a colossal amount of effort), Alistaire reigned in the impulse to run and stood exactly where he was.
"Only one thing," he whispered. "One...one thing."
There was a long pause again. He lifted his hands, which were trembling violently, and slowly began to undo the buttons on the front of his vest until they were undone completely. With fumbling gestures, he slid it off and held it clenched between gloved fingers as his other hand tugged at the buttons of his dress shirt. When it was completely unbuttoned, however, he didn't take it off, but stood there swaying, his face flushed.
"T...this is as far as I can go," he said, and swallowed again. The unspoken for now remained on his tongue.
A brief hesitation, and then - "Kiss me goodnight, Harland."
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