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Machias sat on the couch, reading some book of Elliot’s he saw laying on the table. It featured some sort of cheesy story about gay vampires, but it was rather oddly compelling, Machias decided. When he reached the part where the protagonist willingly offered his neck to the handsome, blond vampire, though… This wasn’t exactly the first time he’d picked up some of Elliot’s reading material out of curiosity, nor was it the first time it made him uncomfortable—his thoughts briefly went back to that kinky Sleeping Beauty story—but this was the first time reading one hurt his heart. How did he end up so hung up on—
He didn’t really have much time to ponder this, however. “Man, I was just gonna start that volume too,” Elliot said, just to Machias’s left from behind the couch and startling the man enough to accidentally toss the book into the air.
With a cry of “ack!” Elliot shot out an arm and grabbed the book before it hit the floor. He took a moment to make sure the item was undamaged, then walked around to the front of the couch, sat down, and offered it back to Machias. “Sheesh, don’t scare me like that, man,” he chided.
Machias hesitantly took the book with a frown. “You’re one to talk, sneaking up on me like that,” he countered, red-faced and flipping through the pages to find his spot again.
Arching a brow at him, Elliot said, “Machias, I am literally the least sneaky person in our group; I would’ve thought you could tell someone was approaching you from a mile away.”
Machias couldn’t even argue with this. Elliot was right; as a man of his unique profession, being able to notice someone approaching was second nature, or should be, anyway. Had he really been off his game this badly since encountering a certain Duke Albarea, with his stupid pretty face and stupid deadpan way of sassing him and his stupid cravat that looked so invitingly tuggable so he could bring His Stupid Sexy Grace in for a kiss—
Groaning, he pulled his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this again. “… yeah, OK, fair point,” he finally said. “I guess I’ve been distracted lately.”
“’Distracted’ is one way to put it,” Elliot said with a weak laugh, “but I’d call it ‘lovestruck’. You’ve really got it bad for him, huh?”
“I—” he started, fully intending on protesting, but stopped before he could get started. He fiddled with the arms of his glasses for a moment with a face he hoped was unreadable, took a deep breath, then put them back on again. “… I hate to admit it, but… I think you might be right. I think I…” He cast his eyes down to the floor, balling his hands into fists and muttering, “… dammit, why did it turn out like this…?!”
He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hey, now, you can’t help who you fall for, Machias. It just happens,” Elliot told him.
“Yeah but…!” Machias began. He abruptly stood up, keeping his back to his friend. “… I’ve… I’ve known for a long time now that I’m probably going to die because of a noble. It’s just an occupational hazard, y’know? Someone’s bound to get the drop on me sometime; a few have already come close.”
“… yeah, I know,” Elliot said quietly. He still remembered the state Machias was in when they reunited, not long before Elliot joined the group. That Machias had been running himself ragged for an agenda borne of anger at a system that failed his family not once, but twice, with no care for his own being was a terrifying revelation and one Elliot didn’t like thinking about for too long, really.
Trembling—with anger or fear or something else, Elliot couldn’t tell—Machias continued his thought. “But to think it could be something like this, like what happened with…” He cut off there, unable to force the words out.
Thankfully, Elliot knew enough to know where he was going. “… you’re worried this’ll end like how that thing with her ended, right? And that’s why we took this job and left Kreuzen?”
He could see Machias’s shoulders slump at the words. “Y… yeah…” Machias admitted.
Elliot rose from his seat, made Machias turn to face him, and pulled him into a hug. “… all right, one, you’re not going to die, not if it’s in my power to stop it, OK?”
Machias made an attempt to laugh, but it came out as a strange, strangled sort of noise instead. “Yeah, yeah, I know, if I die, you’re going to bring me back from the dead and kill me yourself, right?”
Looking up at him, Elliot gave a nod. “You better believe I will, right after I melt whoever killed you with an Altair Cannon.”
Now that actually managed to get a genuine, if short, laugh out of Machias. “Of course. So what’s number two on your list?”
Elliot backed away a step, leaving his hands holding onto Machias’s arms. “Two, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Do you think he’s in love with you too, or is this a one-sided thing?”
“I…” That was a valid question, Machias had to admit. Why would one of the most powerful nobles in the country be interested in an assassin who tried to kill him? And one who kept invading his space, rummaging through his stuff, and stealing his snacks at that?
But… Machias knew that sure, maybe he was a bit dense at times, but even he could see that somehow, the things that Machias seemed to like kept replenishing themselves when he made another visit to the mansion. A bag of fancy coffee left out in plain sight in the kitchen few days after he raided the pantry for the improvised safe house he carved out in a long forgotten corner of the mansion, or a bag of chips poorly trying to hide a new box of those sweet red bean dumpling things from Ymir he had demolished a week previously while waiting on Jusis to return so he could give him a warning about possible unrest in the province.
And then there was the unmistakable hunger in Jusis’s eyes when they crossed paths in that fancy noble party and he was checking to see if Machias was armed, the time Machias caught him murmuring his name as he pleasured himself, all those encounters where they both succumbed to their lust, those times Jusis implied he wanted to “keep him”, and that one sleepily mumbled “stay with me” after they… well…
“He might be, which is the craziest thing about this,” Machias said, then went to sit back down on the couch, careful not to sit on the now-forgotten about vampire book.
Elliot followed suit and took a seat next to him. Nudging Machias lightly with his elbow, Elliot teased, “Then clearly the solution here is to seduce him so hard that he joins us; I could use another person to help look after you.”
Machias rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha, ha. Can you really imagine Jusis ‘The Only Noble Worth A Damn in Erebonia’ Albarea willing walking into Society business like it’s nothing?”
“Stranger things have happened,” Elliot replied, shrugging. “I mean, one of the Anguis is a famous opera singer, and there’s that weird Campanella guy…? Girl…? Person.”
“OK, fair.”
Elliot put his arm on Machias’s shoulder again, the levity fading from his face. “But seriously, Machias, you’re overthinking this,” Elliot said, “You get to decide where you want to go with this. If you decide not to do anything about this, that’s fine, I’m here for you. But if you do decide to act on your feelings, even if your feelings lead him here or you out of the Society, I’m still here for you, OK? I followed you into all this because I’m your friend and want you to be happy and healthy, and even Aidios herself couldn’t change that.”
Machias placed a hand over Elliot’s and nodded. “Yeah, I know you are. Thanks, Elliot.”
“You’re welcome.” Elliot smiled, sincerely but with a growing wickedness behind it. “So… When are you officially moving in with him? You’re already halfway there with Safe House 4…”
What can only be described as the verbal equivalent of someone randomly mashing keys on an orbal computer keyboard came out of his friend’s mouth, followed by, “W-what do you mean, ‘I’m already halfway there”?!?”
Counting off each thing with his fingers, Elliot explained, “Well, first, you have clothes and a toothbrush there. Second, you have sentimental gifts from him decorating the place…”
“Empty manju boxes don’t count as sentimental gifts! They were there and they were sturdy, that’s all!”
Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Suuuure, they’re not sentimental. Third…”
“THERE IS NO THIRD!”
“Third, you’re on a first-name basis with some of the servants already,” Fie said from her spot from the door, making both boys jump.
“When did you—?!?” Machias began, then abruptly switched gears. “And I know their names, sure, but they don’t know mine!”
Fie strolled to the couch and sat herself on the arm of it. “At the “clothes and toothbrush’ part. So, when’re you telling Duke Dreamboat he’s joining the crew and we’re moving in?”
A new, strangled sound erupted from Machias’s throat. “He is NOT joining our crew!”
“So you’re leaving us for him,” Elliot said, nodding. “Good for you, you need someone who’ll take care of you.”
“I’m not…! You both…!! ARGH!!” Machias stood up and headed for the kitchen to escape the conversation. Thankfully, neither Fie nor Elliot followed him.
“… so, any day now, huh?” Fie asked.
Elliot nodded. “Any day now.”