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Horace looked at his phone. Wait. Jan was coming here? He jolted up from his position on the bed, every bone, every muscle creaking in violent protest. Catching himself against the wall, he cursed, ignoring the flicker of movement in his peripheral. That was one of the 'perks' of his room in the basement, apparently. s**t moving in the shadows. It was probably bugs or something, he thought dismissively as he rubbed one hand over the buzzed side of his hair. He'd need to re-shave it soon, but had learned the whole island seemed adverse to regular technology - it was a pain. Maybe he could borrow an altered clipper from someone else or shave it with razors. But with razors, Horace always cut himself. Though what was a little more pain compared to his aches right now?

{these things are dulled considerably. do not complain.}

Sometimes, he wished she were physical, just so he could glare at her. Jannisari was intimidating, yes, and she had very pointed ideas about how awful he was at things, but she helped him out occasionally. Hurriedly, Horace began to straighten his already sparse room. His few books (all romance novels, and one sci-fi epic) were shoved into a drawer. Horace had to stop every so often to catch his breath, but he eventually got the bed straightened out and the socks picked up off of the floor. When he got his first pay, he was going to buy a lot of socks. Only having seven pairs just wasn't going to cut it. He wished his room was less bare, but he simply hadn't brought much from home. His dvds laid, useless, on a shelf, his ds was useless too. Sighing, he gingerly crawled back onto the bed to wait, but not before unlocking the door.

{I do not understand why you hold him in such high esteem, but you should use him.}
{Not everything is about using other people, Doctor.}
{we shall disagree, horace. we are useful to each other, are we not?}
{Well, yes. But this is different.}
{such a petty concern for you - aren't you better than this?}

He stalwartly ignored her. Fingers fidgety and anxious, he pulled out one of the books and began to thumb through it, humming a Disney song.

"Coming!"] There was a muffled thump and a swallowed yelp as Horace managed to stub his toe on one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. Groaning under his breath, he swung the door open and gestured for the man to come inside. Belatedly, he realized he had no chairs - the only sitting space was the bed, the only 'tables' were the bedside table and the tiop of his dresser.

"Hey, Jan. Look, I really appreciate this and-" He paused, finally giving the man a thorough once-over. Hadn't Jan been... Hadn't he....? Horace's thoughts tumbled in his head and skidded to a halt. The Jan standing in front of him was different, yet the same as the one from the pod room. The clothing, the voice, even the general look of him was the same. Horace slipped off his glasses and cleaned them on the soft cotton of his shirt before looking at him again. Gingerly, he crossed to the bed and sat down, the springs giving way squeakily.

"Excuse my questions - but weren't you, uh, bigger or, um, tanner before?" Horace's brows drew together. It wasn't as though this new Jan wasn't wildly attractive, he was. He was just a little less masculine, a little more pale 'touch me'. Or so Horace thought. Maybe he'd been hallucinating.

Horace took the proffered plate without a word, dragging the bedside table over to sit by his knee. The food looked fancy and Horace had the sudden realization that Jan was way out of his league. "I'll take your word for it on memory loss, Jan." He wanted to ask about his hand, but what if the other man was sensitive? Instead, he let his blue eyes rove over the pale man, a smile dimpling his cheek..

"No. I think I like you just like this." Like this, on his bed, in his room, looking every inch a pale statue. Suddenly, he remembered all that talk of inspecting skin. Horace was glad his darker skin could conceal a flush. He felt horribly out of place in comparison - bruised, they they were fading, clumsy. "The food looks delicious," he said after a pause, although he did not look away from Jan.

"Hmm. Sometimes I do see flickers out of the corner of my eye here - maybe it's that." And maybe it wasn't - the island was a strange, strange place. Obidiently, he bent to the food, trying to ignore the fact that the other man was on his bed. It was artistic, like five star restaurant plating, and Horace felt a little shabbier because of it. But once he took the first bite, he jerked in surprise. A happy sigh expended from his mouth.

As he ate, his foot surreptitiously played with the end of Jan's sarong and, growing just a little bolder, brushed against the bare skin underneath. The food was excellent, but nowhere near as interesting, or distracting, as the man next to him. But still, he ate it all, savoring each bite. He ended it with several gulps from a water bottle (one he'd pilfered from someone in the library). Sighing, Horace carefully lowered himself down onto the bed, rolling onto his side to look at Jan. His whole body hurt, but he didn't really care at the moment.

"The food was excellent, thank you. Where'd you learn to cook?" He trailed his fingers down Jan's arm, a worried line appearing between his brows. "It's ok if you don't want to tell me, but what happened to your arm?"

"Monsters? The only monster in my room should be me." Horace laughed, a little nervously. Sometimes, it was still painfully obvious that he was only seventeen, after all. Only seventeen, and Jan seemed so much more worldly, much more experienced, more anything than he. It was dangerously attractive. "Nomadic before, but do you think you're here to stay? I think I could die happy dining on such food." His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. Those same blue eyes that watched Jan's slim finger as it trailed over pale, scarred skin, a kind of fascination flaring deeply in his irises. Ignoring his own aches and pains, Horace lifted Jan's arm and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his scarred wrist.

"You could never be hideous," he said, flushing at his own audacity. His mouth clamped shut, but he had said the words and could not take them back. Horace hoped, at least, that Jan would let him down gently instead of harshly. It had been a nice, if short, dream.

The idea that Jan wasn't going anywhere was immensely satisfying. Of course, this meant Horace, too, couldn't really leave the island for longer than leave. It was alright with him. He opened his mouth to ask the other man a question when Jan took his jaw and kissed him. He blinked a few moments at Jan, mind fuzzing pleasantly.

"I hardly think that's an equal exchange, Jan. And you've got whose radiant mixed up, there." Horace pressed one hand to Jan's chest and leaned over him. If he was going to push his luck, he might as well push it. His lips found Jan's, the taste of that lip balm was heady and a bit exotic. He thought it suited Jan perfectly. Slowly, he nipped at the pale man's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Horace's hand slid lower, two fingers sliding just up under the hem of Jan's shirt. They stroked at the pale skin there before dipping just under the edge of the sarong. Not far, just past the waistband. Horace wanted to push, to slide a little more, but he waited to see what Jan would do.