Work Text:
“Was it not you who insisted we should come? I distinctly remember as much. Ah, yes, it’s all come back to me. Who needs to spend our precious time off at the blasted flat when we can come and mingle with the commoners and get sloshed— “
“That is not what I said.”
“That so?”
“Don’t toy with me. I remember informing you Apollo asked if I could come to this little get-together he had been invited to. What escapes my very good memory is the part where I said come with me.”
“Fussy over the minor details, as if my involvement wasn’t inevitable at that point.”
“It certainly is not inevitable.” Nahyuta lets out a huff. “Regardless, you know how it is. Apollo, he—”
He isn’t one to ask for a favor no matter how much he needs one, so as follows a request from him is not one so easily denied.
In fact, Simon is not sure Nahyuta’s ever denied them at all. Their conversations aren’t something that he listens in on, out of respect for his privacy of course. Anything he’s learned about the relationship the two of them keep, it’s within earshot. If it isn’t said within earshot, it might as well have not been said at all.
Simon scoffs from his place atop the padded cushions of a party couch, taking up an obscene amount of space while waving a hand. “And have you not already lost the lad to the masses? Or he’s gone off with his man, yet here you are.”
“Yet here I am.” Nahyuta repeats with a slow shake of his head. His hands are hooked behind his back, adding to his already tense image. “Your belligerence aside— as much as it pains me to admit, you are right. I’ve indeed lost him.”
“I’ll be sure to soak in this honest praise his highness has bestowed upon me, before he pretends such words didn’t leave his lips, of course.”
Nahyuta may not be sparing him a moment of his time, but he can most certainly imagine the knit of those brows. Palpable aggravation staining pretty features, a look he’s always thoroughly enjoyed.
Perhaps, a bit too much.
“Must you be so— “
“Go on, you can do it.”
The hand he has wrapped around his own forearm squeezes minutely under multi-colored lights, nails dug tight into white billowing sleeves.
“So— !”
“Unbelievably charming, I know. Irresistible, even.”
“It’s said in scriptures that we must not indulge in anything so uncouth as lies, even if there are those who would sooner guide us into said indulgence.”
“Wonderful, now say, have these scriptures gifted you the all-seeing eye that might allow you to spy where Justice dono has buggered off to?”
“Clearly not. If you’re so charming, why not take yourself to the dance floor. Collect some information for me.” Nahyuta asks.
Simon lets a disgruntled noise leave his throat, muffled only by the love ballad currently blanketing the whole room. “Does your Holy Mother ban the use of bloody phones? Why not just ring him up?”
“Pah, don’t be ridiculous. Apollo keeps his on silent anyway, so there’d be hardly any point.”
“Ye gods… Then what’s the use of carrying the blasted thing?”
That makes a smile curl pleasantly on those venomous lips. “It’s completely useless, in fact.”
Something soft settles at the forefront, watching him. A feeling that nestles gently in Simon’s chest as he looks up at Nahyuta. It’s a fragile, fluttering thing, like the crystalline wings of the butterflies the man before him brings into being atop the tips of his fingers.
Delicate in that very same way, not unlike the feelings he holds for Athena but distinct in their own way. Lacking those platonic boundaries, churning and becoming something so unfathomable as it is unfair.
The longer he looks the more he wants to go home.
The longer he looks the less he cares about who might be watching.
“Oi.”
Nahyuta’s still scanning the crowd, watching silently as it thins out in preparation for the next tune.
Thoroughly ignored, he tries again. “Oi.”
And succeeds. “Oi is not my name, obnoxious panda.”
“Obnoxious panda would not be my name, either.” Despite the tendril of misdirected animosity, Simon holds his hand out toward him. “Come here.”
Nahyuta hasn’t fully turned around as of yet, but his body is starting to angle toward him.
“What could you possibly want?”
“Shut your gob and come.” And of course, for good measure. “Please?”
Who needs psychological mind games when a simple word turns those pretty green eyes toward him. A resignation that’s not truly so resigned marring the soft shapes of Nahyuta’s face as he sits down by Simon’s side.
He’s close enough that Simon can fully relish in the warmth of the thigh pressed along the length of the thigh pressed against his, but not so close as to be able to catch that all too familiar scent of floral water and honey.
A pity, really. Suppose he’ll just have to get closer.
“You are aware we work with half the people here, yes?”
There’s hardly any warning in his tone, eyes betraying what could pass as trepidation. Simon, naturally, knows well enough to spot the tell. It’s enough to draw laughter just shy of bellowing guffaws, just before catching the slightest flicker of those eyes.
Hmph. As if Simon cares for who might see, or what they might see.
Having spent seven years mired in regrets, such things have long since left the list of circumstances that might cause him any amount of concern.
“And if I am? Have you any further complaints?”
The response he receives is stern. “Depends on what you might do, depraved man that I know you to be.”
Simon nearly barks his next bout of laughter. “You wound me, Sahdmadhi-dono. Truly, I’ll faint here on the spot. You’ll do well to carry me in the event that I do, I take it?”
“You jest.” Petulance draws those brows and he tips his nose up. “What’s this? Adding -dono to my last name is strange. You will cease at once.”
Leaning in, he smirks. “Oh? And how will you have me call you? If this memory of mine serves me right, I’ve been explicitly banned— “
“And you still are. One word, Prosecutor Blackquill.” How unfair is it, to see such irresistible smiles laced with a venom more dangerous than those tucked in the fangs of a snake. “Be careful.”
Even so, “That’s two.”
“Treading heavily where you should tread lightly will not get you further down this path.” He’s turned wholly toward Simon now, leaning the length of his body against the cushions. There’s a casual laziness to the way he rests his head against the flat of his palm. “Now, why did you call. It can’t have just been your casual childish petulance?”
It might have been, actually. For that moment, Simon wanted nothing more than Nahyuta’s attention on him.
Besides, he’s sure if Justice had still been in the dance hall, both of them would’ve spotted him by now, he’s not exactly hard to miss. Naturally, the conclusion to draw is that he’s no longer there, having stalked off with Gavin to who knows where.
Rather than immediately answer a question he has no clear-cut response to, Simon takes a quick peek at his surroundings. Eventually, his eyes land on a door tucked off to the right in a dimly lit corner. Above it sits a barely functioning [Exit] sign, Simon’s unintended savior.
Petulance and a gnawing desire might have drawn him to call Nahyuta’s attention, but he might well and truly have some help to offer him this time.
Elated, his lips curl.
“Hey.”
“Finished letting your gaze wander, I see.”
“Enough of your complaining. Quick, what lies beyond that door over there.” He asks, jutting his chin at it. “Do you know?”
Nahyuta lifts his head, humming absently. “No. Though, I don’t imagine a venue quiet like this would be bereft of some sort of garden, or open patio area.”
“That would do, yes. Somewhere to get away from knackered blithering coworkers.” He adds. “A place like that is especially made for certain types of people, don’t you think?”
Such a lovely bloom of relatization crosses tired eyes, lighting up in a way few would be perceptive of.
“Yes… yes, that would be right.”
Without need for further clarification, they’re both on their feet, stalking a path right up to the front door and stepping into the brisk cool January air just outside.
Well lit paths drawn by white lamps, the shine laying flat over cobblestone paths leading up to a fountain at the far end of the courtyard. And of course, sitting at that end, is Justice and Gavin. The light strum of a guitar filters through the air, mixing in with the chattering of crickets along with them.
Nahyuta, of course, spots them before Simon has a chance to finish closing the door behind them.
Their exchange is worthless, with Nahyuta nodding and quickening his pace as Simon opts for hanging back. It’s not so much that he views himself as an outsider anymore, but he does believe that sometimes sibling bonds and the ties of close family are not to be stepped on by another. It harkens back to that all too fleeting thought of Athen, and how some things they share can only be shared with one another. A too special connection that can’t be replicated even by the standards held by a more simple affection.
It’s in that moment that—similarly, where incomprehensible bonds are involved—that he wonders if Taka is waiting for his return patiently at home.
“Herr Blackquill!”
Looking back down, Simon grunts at the visage Gavin makes as he comes down the walkway in his direction. He offers nothing more than the tip of his chin as acknowledgement. At least it earns him a laugh.
“Not much for talking here either, ja?” He says with a sunny smile; guitar hooked on his back. His eyes are turned back toward the brothers, now, where they’ve both taken up seats on the fountain’s stone edge. “Herr Sahdmadhi asked for some of Herr Justice’s time, and who would I be if I didn’t give it to them?”
“Heh, I’d say it’s most likely nothing worth being privy to, regardless.” A somber breeze brushes at the ends of his hair. “Better to leave well enough alone.”
“Nothing gets past you, Herr Blackquill, much like nothing gets past those eyes of his. Of course, it’s not like it takes a genius to figure it all out.”
An assumption like that would be most incorrect. What Nahyuta does can often seem a bit mysterious where emotions aren’t involved. Despite how long they’ve been doing this, there are still some things left to chance, left for Simon to ruminate over quiet winter evenings.
Unlike someone like Justice who has an almost innate understanding, he has to work a bit harder. Though, it can be said it’s definitely a fair bit more difficult when he cannot immediately spy those eyes. Harder still, when he cannot see the small shows of his appreciation or disdain.
“Justice-dono is all seeing.” He taps the side of his head. “But he is not all knowing, and just as he is not, I am not.”
“Haha, especially not in the courtroom, ja?” Gavin supplies teasingly.
“Simon doesn’t need any amount of experience in the realm of psychology to tell him how little Gavin believes his own quip.
“Certainly not. He panics far too easily in there. Makes a funny show of it, sure, but I don’t imagine us to be very comparable in the end.” A growl flits past his lips, though the man before him seems untroubled. “Is this what you make of me, Gavin-dono?”
“Now, now, I haven’t found out all the details yet.” He returns with a snap of his fingers, laughing. “There’s not much time for us to test out our skills against each other, is there?”
“Keen man, are you? Remind me to dole out some sort of game when the time is right.” Simon replies, turning his attention just behind him. “Ah, it would seem your ride is here.”
“Ride?” Justice asks as he comes up, frowning slightly in his confusion before visibly giving up. “Prosecutor Blackquill, evening! It’s nice to see you.”
Gavin’s smile is sugary, and Simon snorts. “Titles outside of work, are you a school boy?”
Justice’s brain visibly shutters like an old lamp light as his arms cross. “Hm! Uh, Mr. Blackquill then? I guess? Sounds weird but something like that.”
“Something like that, indeed.”
“Herr Justice.” Klavier cuts in, bending at the waist slightly. “Wrapped up your conversation all nice and pretty?”
“Yeah, I’m ready to go back. Nahyuta just wanted to ask me a couple things, he wants to stay out here a bit longer, though. Something about the inside being too loud and cushy?” His nose scrunches. “It’s not like I picked the place.”
“He’s never been all that good with crowds outside of public appearances and courtrooms, ja?”
“Neither is Justice-dono.” Simon supplies, already moving past them both. When he does turn his head, it’s to eye them both, smug. “Have a good night, gentlemen, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Oh, right. Make sure he gets home at a normal hour by the way!” Justice calls as he leaves. “He’s been staying up too late recently!”
“Technically, you’re not helping his case, you know that right?”
“Huh? What?”
“Don’t you text Herr Sahdmadhi into the early hours of the morning? Like, the super early morning hours?”
He sounds indignant. “Have you been looking at my texts?!”
“... If you don’t want me to look at them maybe don’t have your phone on full brightness while I’m trying to sleep— “
Simon leaves them to their bickering, focused instead on the figure Nahyuta cuts against the darkness where he sits. He’s staring at the fountain water itself, hands settled neatly in his laps. So distracted he hardly turns as he comes up.
The only sign that he’s noticed is the slightest twitch of those delicate fingers betraying his acknowledgement of Simon’s presence at his side. Well, if he won’t start—
“Meeting adjourned, I take it?”
“Pray tell, if Apollo is no longer at my side, what do you think?”
“That you’re conjuring him once more as we speak.”
“Don’t be purposefully difficult. If you’ve come to cause me further trouble then you can go back inside.”
“Hmph. Said as though I could think of a better place to be.” Observing their surroundings, Simon tilts his head, gaze scrutinizing. “Your trousers are doomed to become filthy if you keep sat there, stand up.”
Nahyuta turns an equally scrutinizing gaze onto Simon, scoffing. “Too late for all that when I’ve held this seat for at least the past ten minutes.”
“Why make it twenty?” Reaching a hand toward him, he smiles. “Up you go.”
Relenting, Nahyuta allows himself to be pulled up onto his feet. Once standing, he idly watches his brother and eventual in-law one-sided bicker the entire way as they head back into the building. It’s nothing either of them can hear, but it can’t be anything superbly serious with the rather large grin taking up half of Justice’s face.
After a few long moments of easy silence between them, following their departure, Nahyuta looks at Simon. “Not going to ask what our conversation was about?”
“Even the simplest minds know better than to smack a hornet’s nest with a bare hand.” He grumbles under his breath. “You’ll tell me if you want to.”
His beloved is not one to waste time, of course.
“Since we will be boarding a plane back to Khura’in at the end of this week, I just wanted to check up on him.” His eyes draw closed again, yet another sigh falling from his lips. “Apollo is often one to grin and bear it, after all.”
“Runs in the family.” Tipping his head up, Simon takes in a breath of cool midnight air. “Mirrors cost eighteen quid, just in case you were wondering.”
“Not in this country they do not.”
“Apologies, I hadn’t factored in the conversion numbers yet. Twenty dollars, still neatly within your princely budget, your highness.”
“Just— !” The glare that’s shot in his direction brings him an inconceivable amount of joy. “Cease this behavior at once, have you not grown tired?”
“Not really, no.”
And yet, despite such protests, Nahyuta’s shoulders are loose again when he passes him a quick once over. His face no longer bears that troubled somber shade and is instead colored his usual shade of annoyance, a sliver amused. As such, his quips earn him a light smack to his arm.
Simon grins in response, all teeth.
“Your antics aside, I do think our conversation was rather productive. The trouble seems to just be Klavier, he’s reluctant to part with him.” Mulling it over. “I predict that he will have trouble right up until he’s boarding the plane.”
“No use lamenting things of the sort well before the intended date.”
Brought closer by the weight of their mutual concerns, though such details remain unsaid, eventually there’s a shoulder pressed against his. A steady, comforting feeling as Nahyuta eventually comes around to adjust Simon’s hair. He’s tucking away stray strands, pulled undone by whatever fidgeting he must’ve done, gone unnoticed.
“No use, is it?”
Years of rummaging about paperwork and pens have left the knuckle of Nahyuta’s finger on his right hand roughened and pointed. He can feel as much when the calloused part of his skin brushes against the side of his face, a soft gesture with not a single hint of a smile playing about his face.
Not for lack of contentment, he reasons thoughtfully, but being the pensive man he is he must have his mind flitting along elsewhere.
No use, when Justice is not the only one who will come to be troubled by inevitable departures and goodbyes, being here for six months is nary enough time to statiate a greedy but loving heart.
Nary enough time to satisfy the intrinsic need for proximity, especially when that all too familiar feeling of an ocean separating them once more looms over their heads.
It’s all well and good, of course, these are things he’s willingly signed up for for as little as Simon himself might enjoy them. It just so happens that he’s not yet used to thinking where the future is concerned, it helps somewhat that he often operates in the now.
That said—
“I spend an hour on this look at you ruin it you stupid panda.”
“Letting a few wayward locks ruin your evening is weakness, Sad MOnk.”
“And here I thought you’d have outgrown that petty little nickname by this point?”
“Like you’ve tired of panda?”
Ah yes, that little fiendish smile strikes again. “Perhaps I’ll consider stopping, should you ever stop looking like one.”
In equally petty retaliation, his arms slink around Nahyuta’s waist, hiking him close. There’s little sign of any shock beyond the mild twitch of a brow.
The hands that remain hovering just over his cheeks betray him, however.
Then, they settle, manifesting in a feather light caress over his cheekbones and jaw. A thumb settles over the dark grooves just under Simon's eyes, willing them to close. It’s Nahyuta’s favorite activity as of late it seems, loosely massaging the spaces above and below his eyes. Eventually, he’ll always trail against the notch of his brows, before following the slope of his nose.
Ending in a little kiss to his lips, not trepidatious, nor hovering in a manner one may call coy. Just a barely there press, a sample to taste.
“Come to think of it, we never did strike up a dance in there.” Simon hears himself say against those lips.
Nahyuta blinks curiously. “And here I thought I’d spare you the embarrassment.” The little scratch he gives just under his jaw shouldn’t be so comforting. “Forgive me, Prosecutor, but you are not one I’d foresee being fanciful with your footwork.”
“Think living in a cell has left these legs wonky, do you?” His lip curls with none of its usual heat despite his best attempts to keep bitter. “Come, indulge me while the night is still young.”
Those hands slide from the tops of his arms to the crook of Simon’s elbow. “Fine, but do try not to step on me.”
“Being the duty bound man that I am, I’ll make sure to aim for them should I make an attempt.” He moves his hands down to Nahyuta’s hips for the time being.
“As will I in retaliation, if you dare.” Hands come over Simon’s, moving them off and then sliding his fingers between the spaces. Locking them together. “Now, tell me how you will dance without a song.”
“Caught wind of a man during my time in the clink. Dastardly fellow, that one, I believe his name was Howell Igins. He’d prattle on about all types of songs he used to know. You could catch him singing to himself, swearing up and down those were his works of art.”
Will he ever tire of that soft snort of laughter? “I take it he was arrested for stolen lyric sheets?”
“Impersonating and stalking a well known artist, actually.”
“And just what were you trying to get across with this sad man’s tale, hm?”
“That you could just sing if you wanted music.” Creating a space between them with nothing more connecting them but their joined hands, Simon snickers. “I’ve no need for the sort.”
Surprisingly, Nahyuta seems to actually consider the notion. “Well, go on. I’ll come up with something if you give me a rhythm.”
Theirs is something that exists in relative ease.
Where he can spin Nahyuta just so, bring him close, only to spin him once more and let him go. That lilting voice decorated in amber lights, flowy clothes to contrast against his own, both in type and color.
White and gold is what suits him best, of course. Drawing attention away from pastel lilac locks to eyes the color of magatamas if images are anything to reference. Perhaps, those eyes are brighter still, softer still. Drawing out that feeling again, aching in his chest akin to a thunderous drum. It stalls his tep here and there, enough to draw a sharp tsk as a chastisement.
They’ll separate, stepping in time as the easiest chuckle breaks apart Nahyuta’s tune. The invisible strum of music made all their own.
Eventually, Simon finds the chance to draw close. With a hand on the small of that back and the other clasped together with Nahyuta’s hand, he’ll lean in and laugh headily against his adorned ear, just to see tan skin color something ruddy and hot.
And again, they’ll separate.
While he can still hear whatever god-awful mainstream pop track plays inside the bar proper, it’s nothing he’s paying any mind to beyond brief acknowledgement. Not when there’s a pleased smile on stunning features, not when he’s working on the opportunity to catch Nahyuta in an embrace again. To dip him, spin and then bring him back.
Just to feel a strong back pressed up against his chest, honey on his tongue.
Arms hooked, with Nahyuta’s braced against his forearms, he’s leaning back against Simon’s shoulders with a sigh that betrays whatever blistering complaints those soft lips may utter.
“If you’ll allow me the opportunity to say— “ Simon murmurs against the column of his throat. “I fancy these clothes on you a smidge more.”
“You only say that because your closet and color palette is limited.” He’s still swaying to that invisible song ever so slightly. “But thank you, you look good today as well. Wearing your hair down, but out of your face more will heighten your unseemly appearance.”
“Think I wouldn’t cock it up with you?” He plants a kiss against bare skin just to feel him shiver a tad. And perhaps, earn himself a smack over a hand.
“Enough.” That’s supposed to sound clipped, he thinks. “You’ll do well to learn what I show you, anyway. The hardest part will just be pinning your hair back.”
Feeling serene, Simon cants his head. “Do try not to pull so much next time. Tugging hard out of appropriate circumstances isn't something I particularly fancy.”
“Vulgar, do not speak of such things beyond our four walls.”
“Felt fine, given the fairly romantic moment we’re having this night, hm?”
“Keep it up and I’ll leave you to cool down out here.”
“Will you now?”
Despite implied unwillingness, Simon loosens his grip just enough to allow Nahyuta ample opportunity to move, should he want to get away in the first place. Unexpectedly, the man turns around in his grasp. There’s an almost remorseful look twisting that too-beautiful face as their swaying comes to a stop.
Lithe arms come around his neck.
Simon discovers, not for the first time, that he will do anything to dispel that expression. Anything to scrub it from existence, banished, never to return to them again.
Their foreheads rest against each other’s, hearts beating in time where they lay.
“It’s my turn to ask you for something, Simon. Will you hear my request?”
The seriousness that colors that tongue, no provocative teasing.
Of course, he’ll listen. “Go on, love.”
“Allow me this moment. Do not let me think about planes, much less timetables.” With eyes closed, those eyelashes look terribly long against his cheeks. “We’ll go home, and we’ll share wine, or sake, whatever your preference. I— “
Pulling a hand up, he catches Nahyuta’s chin between his finger and thumb. All this so he can lean down and capture that mouth in another kiss, providing ample distraction with soft nips against the skin of his bottom lip. Unassuming and unhurried, the way he marks his claim, especially when he’s rewarded with lovely hums.
When he pulls away, he can’t help the fiendishness that causes him to grin. “Asking me to whisk you away into the night, then? You needn’t even ask.”
“Demon.” Said adoringly as can be, and Simon can’t help but rumble something akin to a purr.
“You’ve drawn your lot with demons, haven’t you? No room to complain.”
“Well— “ Finally, the gloom dispels for good. “Suppose not. If there’s a demon I’ve manifested I’ll have you know I’ve brought it to this realm made to suit my specifications.”
He raises a brow comically. “Blimey, settling for actually conjuring demons this time, have you? Don’t think I’ve caught you doing that, yet.”
“It’s as you said earlier, the night is still young. Get better so you might catch me.” There’s a pause. “Can’t say I’ll be asking for any others any time soon, however.”
“Got enough of those in your life, by the sounds of it.”
Simon will choose to drown in it, he decides, when he hears the elation following those words. Even hanging about the gentle ruffle of trees, tucked in the quiet corners of the dark. Well and truly, when has there been anything created in recent memory that looks as bright as the gaze Nahyuta bestows upon him.
When has anything looked as bright as this moment, when he says:
“That I have.”
That certainty will be the death of him.
Swallowing audibly, his desire to grab him and take him apart against the nearest tree is strong, though he’s wise enough to resist such temptation. Nahyuta is not one to often ask for a favor either, much akin to his brother in that manner as well.
If he wants to go home and drink himself silly until their facades fall apart, then so be it. He’ll relish that just as much as any amount of intimacy he may be granted later.
Pulling out from under Nahyuta’s arms, Simon instead clasps a hand around his instead. His grip is as tight as it is insistent, beckoning him along for what feels like the third or fourth time this night alone.
“Come, then.”
There’s no sass, no snark, only a tickled little laugh following the pattering of heels against rounded rock. Picking up their pace, they run together like young lovers, quickened in their urgency like they’re close to running out of time.
On some level, perhaps they are.
But now is nary the time to consider that as much. There is time to pick apart the details that mark their bones, yet. Be it tonight, or the week after. Hell knows he’ll wait ardently, fastidious in all his intentions. With the morning hovering over their heads, what Simon will look toward is tomorrow and only tomorrow.
Futures are an inevitable constant, and he will have time to consider them further.
For the moment, he wants nothing more than to await the next time Nahyuta smiles at him when he says:
“Let’s go.”