Chapter Text
In this world Paris is the last to fall. Lucrezia, who spent a good amount of time in Mechanicsburg, with a functioning Castle, fears Paris. She knows the Master’s reputation and though the few times she’d been to Paris she had seen nothing of the control and strength he was rumored to have; she still feared it. She wasn’t the only one who believed so wholly in the Master’s strength. As the Baron’s forces first fell, then turned against the world, everyone who could, fled to Paris.
In the end the Master was weak. He could no longer control the city himself, had not in centuries. When he tried, when he did everything he could, it killed him. When the Master fell his favorite child picked up the pieces. Colette hardwired her way into the system. The attempt pushed her to break through unlocking her spark. Under the Baron’s Peace, spark breakthroughs had been managed and controlled in a way they’d never been before. Over the years people had forgotten what an uncontrolled breakthrough was like; how dangerous it was. They remembered when Colette Voltaire, on the verge of saving Paris, caught fire and let herself immolate as she fought for control of her city.
Paris fell and the Other won. But, here and now, Paris is alive and well. The Master reigns and no one has yet noticed the holes in his control. Here even the Baron Wulfenbach has no power. Here the Storm King conspiracy is constrained, forced to play by the Master’s rules or be banished from the center of Europa. It is in Paris that Tarvek Sturmvoraus and Gilgamesh Wulfenbach find their freedom. And here it might be that they find their salvation.
Or so Tarvek Sturmvoraus hopes. Gilgamesh Wulfenbach though only hopes for four years of freedom before he officially becomes his father’s heir. He does not have any plans involving meeting Tarvek Sturmvoraus again.
/
The last person Gil thought he’d ever see was standing before him smiling. It’d been ten years since he’d last seen Tarvek Sturmvoraus, but he‘d recognize him anywhere. He had the same bright red hair, the same brown eyes, the same smile. He’d traded the giant spectacles for tiny pince nez. He was dressed to the nines. He looked like a prince, a royal fop. All Gil could see was an eight year old boy.
“Tarvek.” Gil said his surprise letting the familiar nickname fall out.
Tarvek for his part kept smiling. It looked like a real smile, but Gil knew better.
“Are you in Niadh’s Intro to Mechanics class then?” Tarvek asked.
Gil had no idea what Tarvek was playing at. Acting all nice and friendly, like they were old acquaintances. He wasn’t acting at all like, like he felt like Gil did. All angry and frustrated and scared and yet still desperately happy to see him again. It frustrated Gil. He wanted to yell at Tarvek, scream at him. He couldn’t though, not here in the street with Tarvek being so blasted polite. Why was Tarvek being polite, what did he know? Gil had no idea what to say, luckily Wooster answered for him.
“Yes, actually. You too, then?”
“Quite. It’ll be good to have some friendly faces.” Then Tarvek held his hand out to Wooster, “Prince Tarvek Sturmvoraus pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Ardsley Wooster, likewise.” Wooster and Tarvek shook hands, “And you already know Holzfaller.”
“Yes, though it’s been quite some time.” Tarvek smiled congenitally and pulled out a pocket watch, “We best be going. It’s bad form to be late on the first day.”
Wooster nodded his agreement and the two headed off down the street. Gil followed in confusion. Wooster was Gil’s roommate. He’d already been moved into the apartment Gil was renting when he’d got there. A roommate seemed a bit dangerous, but Father had insisted on the illusion of poverty. It was all well and good for the Baron to pay to send his orphan spark to university, but to put him up in private accommodation was another thing entirely. So, Gil had been shunted to the dorms. The dorms had roommates. Gil had his own bedroom, but he shared a bathroom and common area with Wooster.
All said Gil was in the nicest student accommodation, some of the cheaper ones were little better than barracks. Gil had a wealthy patron, Wooster apparently had enough wealth in his family to afford a nice foreign education. He claimed to be of the untitled gentry, that his father was a soldier and his mother a medical doctor. No history of the spark in his family. The story checked out, as best as Gil could tell. Their contacts in England were of questionable loyalty. Wooster though, had been suspiciously friendly and accommodating. Gil wasn’t quite sure if he could trust him.
Tarvek at least he knew not to trust. He’d learned that particular lesson already. The first thing Gil needed to know was what Tarvek wanted from him. No that was wrong. The first thing was to convince Tarvek that Gil wasn’t a threat. Or a useful tool. Tarvek was sneaky and a brilliant liar, it would take Gil ages to figure out what he wanted. By then it might be too late to stop whatever plan he had going. Gil had to preempt him, which meant eliminating himself from whatever game Tarvek was playing.
It would be hard, to convince Tarvek he was useless to him. Tarvek knew Gil enough to know he was smart. There would be no hiding Gil’s spark it was too strong and the only reason Gil had to be here in Paris anyways. Gil couldn’t play the idiot. Other options then. He could play the villain. No that could make him more useful rather than less. Besides, the Baron couldn’t be supporting him then. Gil thought harder. He would have to act in a way that would make Tarvek dismiss a strong spark. What kind of person would not be worth his time? Gil thought in that moment of Bang. His appointed bodyguard for his time in Paris. That gave him an idea.
/
Niadh’s Intro to Mechanics class was a bore. Gil had mastered the syllabus by the time he was ten. It was embarrassing really that anyone needed to be taught this stuff, when it was so obvious. Well, the less time Gil spent doing school work the better. He could devote time to personal projects instead, and to his new plan. The Plan: Convince Tarvek Gilgamesh Holzfaller is a Useless Degenerate and More Trouble Than He is Worth. That plan would require a lot of drinking and a lot of partying. Worst of all it would mean letting Bang drag him to all sorts of embarrassing places to do all sorts of embarrassing things. She would be delighted.
Since the lecture was useless Gil turned his attention to his current problem. Tarvek had ended up sitting with them for class. Wooster sat between Tarvek and Gil acting as a sort of buffer. Wooster, Gil noticed was taking meticulous and precise notes, in English. Tarvek was scribbling furiously on a series of papers, but clearly not paying any attention. Gil figured Tarvek was a spark. He could check, but he’d bet the empire on it. Which meant this lecture was also abysmally easy for him. The furious scribbling was probably the result of an idea that had to absolutely be written down before it was forgotten.
Gil watched Tarvek furiously scribble, he didn’t look like he was entering a spark fugue. He looked focused and a little frustrated, but also rushed. Like he only had so much time to write and a lot to say. Which was silly, the lecture was an hour and a half long. There was no way Tarvek had a complicated enough idea that it would take longer than that to right, without having triggered a fugue.
Unfortunately, Gil couldn’t get a good look at the papers. With Wooster between them it would require the kind of leaning that would draw attention. Certainly the attention of the girl on the other side of Gil who was watching him rather closely. Gil turned to look at the girl. She was pretty and when their eyes met she batted her eyelashes. Well that gave him an idea.
It was shockingly easy to flirt with the girl without catching the professor's attention. They weren’t seated particularly far in the back. Actually, now that Gil was looking they were seated in the precise middle of the lecture hall. He wondered if that had been Tarvek’s or Wooster’s decision. He should have been paying more attention. He would next time. For now though the girl, a Lady Therasia Lindgren, was thoroughly charmed by Gil. It was shockingly easy. Gil only had to flirt a little and the girl was all over him.
By the end of class Gil had gotten the girl’s card, an invitation to a party, a date, and a kiss. He was rather proud of himself. The plan was working perfectly. Well almost perfectly. Wooster looked a little scandalized when the girl kissed Gil goodbye, but Tarvek simply looked amused. Gil smirked at them in response.
“Well that class is a bit pointless.” Gil said as they left the lecture hall mostly to fill the silence between the three of them.
“You think all the classes are pointless.” Tarvek grumbled in response.
Gil gave him a confused look. He didn’t even have an opinion on his other classes yet.
“What?”
Tarvek looked away abashed, “I mean these intro courses are mostly designed for non sparks who still need a baseline knowledge. For us sparks it seems rather basic and useless.”
So, Tarvek knew he was a spark. He was probably also smug about it. The bastard had always said Gil would be a spark. Gil was annoyed at his presumptuousness. Tarvek didn’t know him, maybe he would find the other classes informative. The Institute d’Extraordinaire was the foremost university in Europa. They taught plenty of sparks, there was no reason to anticipate a complete lack of difficult or advanced material.
By the end of the week Tarvek had proven himself correct. He also was annoyingly, persistently, present. He was in almost all the same classes as Gil. Tarvek was pursuing a focus in fine mechanics and clanks, while Gil preferred biology and medicine, but they were still in most of the same pointless intro classes. Tarvek would arrive to class either with Gil, because apparently him and Wooster were now friends, or right after him; settling into the seat next to Gil. The most annoying part was that he was infuriatingly pleasant.
By Friday, Gil was annoyed enough to intentionally pick a fight. When Tarvek raised his hand to correct a professor, Gil leapt to the professor’s defense. This dissolved the entire class into a full debate, the professor who clearly had some debate training proceeded to apply his pointer stick to particularly enthusiastic dissenters. Tarvek kept his focus on Gil as the debate raged around them, and while Gil attempted to apply such advanced debating techniques as banging Tarvek’s desk and thrusting hastily scrawled equations in his face, Tavrek applied the kind of debate they teach in political science classes and used the less respected tactics of clearing his throat softly and saying things like “have you considered..”, “that’s an interesting perspective, but”, and the particularly underhanded “I’m not entirely convinced of the credibility of your source”.
It meant that instead of the argument dissolving into a fist fight and shouted imperatives like all respectable debates, the two of them appeared to be a rather civilized calm amongst the chaos. Tarvek’s underhanded and dirty debate tactics might have been a suitable source of condemnation, if the debate hadn’t been broken up by the Campus Civility Society. Apparently, debates were limited to seminars and strictly banned from lectures. So well the rest of the class received a thorough dressing down and community service assignments, Tarvek and Gil got to have an early lunch. A lunch Tarvek even insisted on paying for, because he started the debate.
Gil was many things, but too proud to accept free food was not one of them. He found himself grouchily eating a truly superb sandwich at a cafe near campus. The cafe was a poncy place full of all the poshest of university students. Gil was pretty sure they would’ve thrown him out on his ass if he’d been accompanied by anyone else. Tarvek might be a dirty traitorous sneak weasel, but he was a prince. Gil was beginning to wonder if that was an acceptable reason to hate someone. Though, the fact that Tarvek was eating his sandwich with a fork and knife, cutting it into small bite sized portions certainly was. The fact that he managed to do so without undermining the sandwiches structure despite being impressive, only made watching him eat more horrendous.
Gil focused determinedly on his sandwich instead, dreading having to make actual conversation with Tarvek. He had no idea how to make small talk, let alone make small talk with your traitorous ex-best friend from ten years ago who seemed overly determined to be nice to you. His plan to appear like a lecherous drunkard was in action, but there was only so much one could do in five days. He’d flirted with every girl who so much as looked at him twice, but it only seemed to amuse Tarvek. Maybe he’d find the drunkard aspect more off putting.
“Can I get a bottle of chardonnay?” He smiled at the waiter who was unfortunately male, he wondered if asking a waitress to join them would scandalize Tarvek, “Anything for you Sturmvoraus?”
“Chardonnay is fine.” Tarvek said, though he was eyeing Gil.
“Two bottles of Chardonnay then.” Gil said still smiling.
Instead of being shocked Tarvek chuckled, “I didn’t think the debate went that poorly.”
Gil resisted the urge to growl in frustration. Instead he smiled, “Maybe I’m celebrating my victory.”
That at least got Tarvek to narrow his eyes, “Victory, I’m hardly convinced that the Utkin equation is the most efficient method of determining the best gear ratio for Limburton pneumatic systems.”
Gil thankful not to have to resort to discussing the weather rose to the challenge, “Oh don’t tell me you favor the Granville method?”
Tarvek’s smile turned sharp, “What if I do?”
This debate was far more casual than the one that occurred in the lecture hall. Gil only raised his voice when a point absolutely required emphasis. Tarvek only resorted to gesticulating wildly with a fork when he thought Gil was being intentionally obtuse. Gil was even forced to concede a point by pouring Tarvek another glass of wine. Tarvek in his turn conceded to Gil’s superiority by ordering them tiramisu. It was so enjoyable, Gil forgot he was only supposed to pretend to be drunk and actually indulged in the wine which was quite good.
He wasn’t so distracted as to not notice Tarvek doctoring his glass when they opened the second bottle. He swiped Tarvek’s in retaliation. Gil wasn’t sure if he should point out that he’d noticed. Tarvek could infer all sorts of things from the fact that Gil was both watching for his glass to be poisoned, and was capable of catching Tarvek doing it. He almost didn’t notice, Tarvek was shockingly fast. Gil though, had been watching him make a point about torsion rates by twisting his fingers through the air, thus missing the distraction of a girl bumping into Gil’s chair, and catching the quick movement of Tarvek’s hands.
Tarvek paused the glass an inch from his mouth and sighed, “It was an antidote, you buffoon. Someone poisoned the bottle. If I wanted to kill you belive me I’d be far more discreet.”
Gil actually hadn’t thought Tarvek was trying to poison him. He’d assumed it was a drug meant to loosen his tongue. Tarvek wanted something from him and it certainly wasn’t his death. Gil briefly considered pretending that he had thought it was poison, but he was enjoying the strange camaraderie Tarvek seemed so keen on maintaining. Besides he couldn’t stand the smug expression on Tarvek’s face.
“For the record I thought you were drugging me.” Gil responded sounding petulant despite his best efforts.
“To what end?” Tarvek asked as if they were having a conversation as mundane as one about the weather.
Gil wondered briefly if such conversations were mundane for Tarvek.
“For the same reason you’re being so nice .”
Gil probably should’ve been more delicate. He probably should’ve twisted his words so that Tarvek would tell him without ever realising Gil had asked. Gil had never been good at that type of manipulation. Despite all his father’s teaching and lessons, GIl was never good at battles of words. He hated them too. It was ridiculously complicated and meant being polite to people who had tried to kill you. Gil was a far more direct person.
Tarvek was a sneaky weasel, who’s best weapons were words. The direct approach at least had the effect of throwing him off kilter. If only because Tarvek didn’t expect people to be direct. He set his glass down and just looked at Gil for a second. Gil looked back baffled. Then Tarvek laughed softly. Gil felt his face heat.
Tarvek was mocking him. That conniving little weasel.
Before Gil could break into an angry tirad Tarvek spoke again.
“You would think it was a scheme. Just like you thought my trying to help you” Tarvek jabbed a finger at Gil, “find out who you were was a scheme. Well, surprise Gil. There is no scheme. I’m simply trying to be your friend. Because for some reason, that I’m having trouble remembering right now, I actually like you as a human being. Shocking I know, but still, somehow true.”
Tarvek had not made eye contact once during his entire little speech. He gesticulated wildly and made all sorts of dramatic facial expressions, but never actually looked at Gil. That was curious. The first rule of lying which both Tarvek and his father had taught Gil was to make eye contact. People are more inclined to trust you if you make eye contact with them. Tarvek had maintained eye contact throughout their previous conversation, but now he was avoiding Gil’s gaze.
It made Gil want to believe him. But it had been Tarvek who’d taught him about eye contact. He could just as easily use the knowledge against Gil. As convincing as the little speech was Gil didn’t let himself fall for it. Tarvek had already used this play on Gil, and Gilgamesh Wulfenbach did not make the same mistake twice.
“Yeah. Right. The prince of Sturmhalten, wants to be friends with the Baron’s pet spark.”
Tarvek smirked at him, “Don’t sell yourself short Holzfaller. You’re no ordinary spark. And hardly anyone’s pet.”
Tarvek was making eye contact again. Smirking at Gil with some indescribable emotion on his face. It made Gil abruptly uncomfortable. He had to resist the urge to look away and instead meet Tarvek’s smirk with a glare. They stared at each other in a silent challenge for a few minutes and then suddenly a chair was being pulled up to the table.
Gil relieved tore his gaze from Tarvek, to find Colette Voltaire settling into a seat at their table. Without prompting a waiter settled a large slice of strawberry cheesecake in front of her along with a cup of coffee. Gil had read reports on Colette Voltaire. She was sixteen and supposedly the master’s favorite child. Well Colette wasn’t technically a student at the Institute d’Extraordinaire she took classes, and sat for all the exams. No one at the university would dare tell her she couldn’t. On top of that she was incredibly intelligent skilled in both mechanics and espionage. She was the kind of person you didn’t want to make an enemy of, certainly not in Paris.
“Mademoiselle Voltaire, how kind of you to join us.” Tarvek smiled at her.
Tarvek’s smile was different from the one he kept insisting on flashing at Gil. This one was empty somehow, like a forged painting, perfectly beautiful but void of any emotion. Gil hated it. Whatever, act Tarvek was putting on for Colette was different from the one he was playing out for Gil. It made Gil nervous and frustrated.
“I would never miss the opportunity to speak with you Prince Tarvek.”
Colette’s smile was dazzlingly charming. It made Gil want to buy her another slice of cheesecake and she wasn’t even looking at him. No wonder she was the Master’s favorite. She had probably been the type of child to have all the adults cooing over her and slipping her sweets when the others weren’t looking. Gil immediately put himself on guard.
“Nor I you, mademoiselle.”
Tarvek was still smiling that empty smile when he turned slightly to face Gil again. Gil resisted the urge to grimace and let a curious smile hover on his face instead.
“May I introduce my friend, Gilgamesh Holzfaller?”
They were not friends. Gil managed to glare at Tarvek out of the corner of his eye while smiling at Colette as she offered him a hand. He kissed the top of it and tried his best to be charmingly polite.
“A pleasure to meet you Monsieur.”
Colette does look pleased to meet Gil. Whether the emotion is genuine or not remains to be seen. Still Colette Voltaire is the kind of person Gil actually wants to be friends with. Beyond the strategic benefits of befriending the Master of Paris’s favorite daughter, Colette is extremely intelligent. Gil hasn’t met anyone who could keep up with him, besides a certain weasel, and Colette seems like she might be able to. She’s not a spark, not yet anyways but she comes tantalisingly close.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
Gil replied trying to make the phrase not sound flirtatious, he is trying to scandalize Tarvek, but Colette is only sixteen and Gil has some standards. Colette at least seems amused, Tarvek is still maintaining the empty smiling expression. Gil wondered what Collette is doing here. Did she join them just to have an excuse to be introduced to Gil? Does she know who he is?
“I heard you were involved in that unsanctioned debate that occurred today, your highness. Yet, here you are enjoying a nice lunch well the rest of your classmates are stuck hunting mimmoths in the basement laboratories.”
Tarvek’s empty smile transformed to one that was slightly smug. Gil felt himself relax a little at the change. Smug he could handle.
“We started it actually. Though when your sitting calmly at your desk while the lecture hall around you dissolves into chaos, people tend to assume you weren’t at all involved with the chaos.”
Tarvek pointed his statement with a sip of his wine.
Colette sat up straight at that her smile twisted wicked.
“All to have a quiet lunch with your boyfriend. You are devious Prince Tarvek.”
Gil didn’t spray the wine in his mouth all over the table, but it was a near thing. Tarvek almost dropped his glass and his face went bright red. Colette held her wicked smile for three whole seconds before she burst out laughing. Tarvek directed a glare at the teenager, and looked like he was seriously considering stabbing her with his dessert spoon.
“You should see your faces.” Colette gasped out between laughter, “I’m kidding.”
Gil felt himself relax. Colette was just being a teenager, mocking them for her own amusement.
“Hilarious, Mademoiselle. Did you join us just to make that exciting little joke?” Tarvek asked determined to appear unfazed despite the red still flushing his cheeks.
Gil smiled to himself as he noticed that Tarvek’s ears now matched his hair. It was nice to see Tarvek’s careful poise shaken. It made him like Colette more, that she could disarm Tarvek so easily. Even if she had done so at Gil’s expense as well.
“Not quite. Though it has certainly made coming over here worth the trouble.” Colette smiled that brilliant smile again, “I am actually here with an invitation. I’m inviting you to join my study group. We meet on tuesdays and thursdays at 7pm at Le Chat Vert. To celebrate the start of term though were meeting for drinks tomorrow at 9, same place.” Colette’s eyes tracked to Gil, “Do bring along Monsieur Holzfaller.”
Gil blinked owlishly at Colette. Joining her study group was the ultimate status symbol at the university. Duels were fought over the right to join. Only the best and brightest of the students were allowed into the elite group, all of them handpicked by the Mademoiselle herself. They’d only been here a week. Yet, here Tarvek was being invited and Gil by proxy.
Did Colette know who he was? The Master did. Father hadn’t told him, but the Master had taken one look at Gil and just sighed heavily. Whether, the Master had found it prudent to keep that information to himself or had shared it with his favorite child was another matter. Was Colette inviting Gil, because she knew who he was? Or because of some other reason, like the three rampaging sparks he’d already managed to stop since arriving in the city?
Better yet, why was Colette inviting Tarvek? Tarvek certainly hadn’t been stopping rampaging sparks. He would never risk ruining an outfit for that. Or appearing undignified. Tarvek was a spark and a strong one but there were plenty of those at the university. It also couldn’t be because Tarvek was a prince, rank wasn’t a factor in Colette’s choices. She had a commoner in her study group. Gil wondered maybe that Colette had invited Tarvek as an excuse to invite Gil.
It would make sense if Colette knew he was the Baron’s son. She had probably originally planned on waiting longer to invite Gil. Perhaps until after he’d established just how strong of a spark he was. Maybe even set up an incident where Gil would be seen publicly rescuing her. Instead, she’d stumbled on him having lunch with Tarvek and seized on the opportunity.
Tarvek wasn’t the kind of person Gil would’ve wanted in his own private study club. Someone more comfortable poisoning his own relatives then sharing secrets with friends, was not the kind of person one wanted to invite into their inner circle. The again if Colette knew who Gil was, then she probably knew all about Tarvek and his family. The matriarch of the Valois clan lived in Paris afterall. It had once been the political seat of the Storm King’s empire. If Colette was half as good as the rumors implied, she’d know how dangerous Tarvek was.
It seemed to great a risk to take just to have an excuse to get closer to Gil. No, Colette had to want both of them. There had to be a reason she wanted a sneak weasel like Tarvek in her study group. Something other than that he was a strong spark. Perhaps, Colette was inviting Tarvek, because he was a backstabbing sneak. She needed to be close to him to know what he was planning.
Now that Gil thought of it, it was a good plan. If one stuck around Tarvek they were liable to catch on to his dastardly plans, and be perfectly positioned to put a stop to them. A position as his friend for example, would be particularly advantageous to interfere with his plotting. Tarvek did say he wanted to rekindle their friendship. Gil could go along with it, make sure not to let to many of his own secrets out and suss out all of Tarvek’s devious plans.
He nodded to himself, satisfied at the decision only to realize he’s missed a lot of the conversation. The second bottle of wine was empty and so were their plates. Colette and Tarvek were discussing the best stitching for shirt cuffs. So, Gil figured he’d be forgiven for having checked out of the conversation. His own cuffs he distractedly noticed were a disaster. They’re the kind that button close instead of relying on cufflinks, he’s always losing those, and one had come decidedly undone. The other he realised must’ve dangled into the tiramisu, and he tried to subtly clean it without catching his companions’ attention.
Tarvek noticed instantly and scoffed at him. Colette giggled again. Gil resisted the urge to hide his hands and thus his cuffs under the table.
“My apologies, Monsieur Holzfaller. We appear to be boring you.” Colette said though the apology did not sound sincere.
“It’s alright.” Gil figured that was the polite thing to say, “And please, call me Gil.”
Colette smiled at that and it looked genuine as far as Gil could tell, “Then you must call me Colette.” she stood up at that “Now I fear I have taken enough of your time, I will see you tomorrow night?”
“Of course, mademoiselle.” Tarvek nodded standing to pull Colette’s chair back.
“Of course” mumbled Gil.
“Until then.” Tarvek said bending over Colette’s hand.
“Au Revoir.”
Gil wondered if Colette leaving meant lunch was over. A part of him that he tried to ruthlessly squash was hoping it didn’t. When Tarvek sat back down Gil had to smother a sigh of relief. Tarvek was smiling softly, almost fondly without looking at anyone. It was a good look on him, smiling like that it was hard to think of Tarvek as a conniving weasel. It also made Gil’s chest hurt ever so slightly, or maybe it was just heartburn.
After a second Tarvek looked up, “Well, now I believe we were discussing what went wrong in Baumgarten’s experimentation with molluscoid musculatature transferell to land based organisms, before we were so rudely interrupted. You had some mistaken ideas about the functionality of Mirvac's Canine Ocupai.”
That’s not at all what they’d been talking about when they’d been interrupted. Gil however was grateful to have any excuse to remain at the cafe table instead of having to track down Bang for a night on the town. He picked up the threads of the debate easily enough. Arguing with Tarvek was familiar in a horribly painful nostalgic way. Gil doesn’t want the conversation to end ever. Even when they find themselves coming to an agreement one of them picks up a new thread and the debate continues.
Gil ordered more wine and then another wine. He more or less forgot the drunkard thing was supposed to be an act. By the time the cafe employees began shooing them out Gil found himself struggling to stand up. Tarvek annoyingly seemed as sober as he was when they’d arrived at the cafe. Gil struggled to maintain his balance and attempted to make it out onto the sidewalk on his own.
Tarvek followed and laughed openly at Gil’s struggle. Gil didn’t hit Tarvek for it, only because he thought he might tip over if he did. He was rather a little too focused on putting one foot in front of the other and ended up walking right into the closed glass door. That got laughs from the employees still left in the cafe as well. Gil stumbled backwards trying to transfer his backwards acceleration horizontally as to avoid falling into the clutches of gravity. It worked for three steps and then Gil collided with something solid. Instead of falling forward onto his face it grabbed him, keeping Gil vertical.
“Whoop” said Gil as vertigo hit sending his vision spinning.
“You are a disgrace.” said the wall holding Gil up.
Tarvek, because it was Tarvek holding Gil steady, manipulated Gil’s body, so that Gil had one arm slung over his shoulder and Tarvek had a solid grip around Gil’s waist. Gil was aware on some level that he should shove Tarvek off him. Yell about how he could walk by himself. Instead he was suddenly aware of how he couldn’t remember the last time someone held him that wasn’t in the middle of a fight. Tarvek was warm and steady at Gil’s side, and part of him just wanted to melt on top of the other man and forget about everything else.
Gil did not melt into Tarvek’s side, but he allowed the other man to haul him out the door and down the street with minimal protesting. Mostly, because he didn’t want Tarvek to let go. A quiet part of Gil that was still seven years old insisted that this was somehow proof that Tarvek had never betrayed him. Gil lacked the mental wherewithal to squash the little voice, but he did manage to ignore it. What he didn’t manage to ignore was the sharp cinnamon scent coming off of Tarvek. It was delicious, and made it extremely hard to resist the urge to just bury his face in Tarvek’s neck. Gil didn’t bury his face in Tarvek’s neck, but he found himself swaying towards it periodically. An action that made Tarvek grumble about “drunken sods” and briefly tightened his grip on Gil.
They stumbled down the parisian streets like this. Gil sometimes managing shuffling steps, and other times letting Tarvek haul him along. It was still early in the evening and the passerby gave them disapproving looks as they stumbled along. Gil just answered the disapproving looks with a smile, that judging by people’s reactions must’ve looked rather feral. Sooner than Gil would’ve liked they found themselves on Gil’s doorstep. Tarvek didn’t wait for Gil to unlock the door and instead rifled through Gil’s pocket’s pulling his key’s out from Gil’s pants pockets in a way that caused Gil to almost squirm out of Tarvek’s grip.
There was a brief scuffle on the doorstep, where Gil tried to get his keys out himself. Eventually Tarvek tucked Gil under one arm got the keys out and unlocked the door.
Tarvek then promptly released GIl who made it two whole steps through the door before collapsing to the ground. This would’ve been good enough for him, the ground was rather comfy, but the door swung shut on his calves. Gil groaned and attempted to squirm the rest of the way into his apartment. It wasn’t very successful and required rather more movement than Gil had the will to perform.
“You are ridiculous.” Tarvek admonished from the doorway.
Gil attempted to come up with a proper rejoinder, something about Tarvek’s face being ridiculous that mostly got swallowed by the carpet. Before he could properly articulate his point he was being hauled suddenly upward. For a brief moment Gil’s stomach rebelled. Before the delectable lunch could make a return showing though Gil was vertical again. Than abruptly upside down. It took him a whole wasted minute to realise the expanse of blue he was looking at was in fact Tarvek’s ass. He got a whole two minutes to contemplate that it was rather firmer then he’d expected before the world spun again.
When Gil’s vision cleared again it was to the sight of the chipped paint of his bedroom ceiling, which was already becoming a familiar sight. It blurred out and in again for a bit and Gil was aware vaguely of tugging on his person. Being in bed though made him realise how tired he was. Gil hadn’t slept the previous night distracted by Bang waking him up for mid night training. Which mostly involved Gil running for his life, while Bang laughed maniacally and threw knives at him with deadly precision.
When Gil was able to drag himself from the edges of sleep to figure out about the tugging it was to find a blanket being pulled over him. He turned to the side and managed only to register a flash of red and blue his brain told him it was important, but failed to register why. Gil felt himself fall asleep again. Only to be brought back by a sharp pain in his neck. He rolled slightly moving onto his back. For a moment Gil thought he should be worried, but then a warm hand was running through his hair and there was brief pressure on his forehead. Gil’s mind brought up images of green hair and glittering jewelry, but then sleep claimed him and he drifted.