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Clipoher woke to the sound of Fitzroy panting in clear distress.
“No…no…I don’t want…” He was sweating, his limbs twitching as if he was trying to run.
He reached out a hand to touch his fanoa’s shoulder, and Fitzroy flinched away from it. “Fitzroy,” he said quietly, urgently. “Fitzroy, wake up.”
Fitzroy curled up away from Cliopher, holding one of his many cushions tight to his chest, still muttering denials. Cliopher reached out again, this time to Fitzroy’s head. “It’s ok, Fitzroy,” he murmured, stroking his hair. This time Fitzroy did not flinch away, but instead grew still and tense. “It’s ok. You’re safe.”
When Fitzroy didn’t react further, Cliopher shifted over until he was lying up against him. Moving slowly, he curled around Fitzroy, still gently petting his hair and murmuring reassurance. Slowly, he felt Fitzroy relax, and carefully reached his arm over him to pull him into a hug.
“Kip?” Fitzroy’s voice was quiet, confused. “What are you doing here?”
“You were dreaming, Fitzroy,” Cliopher responded. “I’m here with you now.”
“Oh.” Fitzroy shifted, snuggling into him. “This is nice.” Kip hummed agreement, and he continued, “Are you sure I’m not still dreaming?” His voice warmed with a note of playful humor in it. “I’ve dreamed of this a lot, you know.”
Cliopher was grateful for the dark that hid his blush, but he said firmly, “This is real, Fitzroy. Fanoa.” Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he continued, “What did you dream about?”
“Oh, lots of things,” he said, twisting in Cliopher’s arms to see him.
Cliopher raised an eyebrow in a deliberate imitation of Fitzroy’s imperial look.
Fitzroy snuggled closer into Cliopher, his face turned away again. “You. Here.” His voice dropped down to almost a murmur. “I wanted this for a long time.”
It seemed easier to be vulnerable, half awake here in the darkness of the room. “I did too.” He continued running his fingers through Fitzroy’s hair, gently massaging his scalp.
Fitzroy leaned his head into Cliophers hand. “This helps.”
“What does?”
“Being touched. It reminds me that I’m… real. For so long, people only touched me in my dreams.”
“This is real,” Cliopher said again, trying to keep the pain from his voice. “This isn’t a dream.”
“I know,” Fitzroy let out a huff of laughter. “The bed isn’t nice enough.”
Cliopher chuckled, and then what Fitzroy said penetrated, and he felt himself blushing. “Did you…”
“For a long time.” Fitzroy sounded oddly smug.
Cliopher hesitated, and then, “I wish I could have.” The words came out before he had time to examine them. He almost wanted to take them back, but he couldn’t deny they were true, for all that he had refused to even entertain the idea at the time.
As if in response to that thought, Fitzroy said quietly, “I couldn’t have asked you.”
There was a world of implications behind that statement. There was pain there, and longing. And, unquestionably, the hint that he’d thought about it. Well, apparently he’d dreamed of it. Kip wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure he could say anything to that. He felt as if he was standing on the edge of a revelation, of things that they had tacitly agreed not to talk about.
But Fitzroy so rarely let his guard down, truly. He didn’t get drunk, and certainly not at the amount of alcohol that rendered Cliopher too fuzzy-minded to ask serious questions.
He was not exactly talkative now, but Cliopher could sense that he was less guarded, perhaps more able to handle thinking about his time as the emperor here, in that twilight between dreams and reality. So Cliopher took a deep breath, and addressed the thing that they were talking around.
“What would you have asked?” he murmured. “If you could have?”
Fitzroy tilted his head to look up at him, holding Cliopher’s hands still. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the room, where the only other light came from the moonlight pouring through the window.
“That’s a dangerous question, Kip,” he said, his voice low and serious. “Are you sure you want the answer to that?”
Cliopher hugged Fizroy close to him, squeezing his hands on Fitzroy’s arms. “I am.”
Fitzroy lay in his arms quietly for some time. In the dark shadows of the room, Cliopher couldn’t make out his expression, wasn’t sure if it would have said anything even if he could have.
“I thought about asking you to be my concubine,” he said finally, his voice so quiet that Cliopher had to strain to hear it. He sounded… resigned, perhaps nervous, as if he was afraid of how Cliopher would take it.
“Did you?” His own voice was equally quiet, surprisingly steady.
Cliopher was not shocked by this. He wasn’t. He knew by now that Fitzroy had loved him for a very long time, and if some of that time he had wanted to act on that? Well. He had a great many thoughts that he had never acted on. And none of that mattered here, now, when they were equals and could talk about such things.
“I wanted to ask you to chose me, be my consort, if I had dared.” He closed his eyes, slumping against Cliopher, still leaning into him in the vulnerability of the moment.
Cliopher remained silent. It seemed as if he wasn’t done talking, only as if he was trying to form the words through his tired mind. After a few moments, an eternity, Fitzroy continued.
“I dreamed sometimes that I had, that I had you by my side, my hands in more ways than the symbolic. I dreamed that you looked on me with desire, that you would want to touch me, that you would turn your brilliant mind towards more… intimate planning.”
His voice flattened out, and he continued, “When things were bad, I dreamed that I had asked you, and you said yes because I was the Emperor, that you did not want any of it, but could not say no. That you would turn your mind to serving me, but only because it was service.”
“Fitzroy…” Cliopher’s voice broke on the word. He was crying, he realized, hearing his fanoa’s pain, that he would even think such a think. “Beloved, never. I would not do that to you. I would never have done that to you. I don’t… If you had asked, I don’t know if I would have been ready to answer. But I would not have said yes if I didn’t mean it.”
“I couldn’t know that,” Fitzroy said quietly. “For every one of your petty treasons, you were famously loyal. And you did everything I asked of you. Everything, and more.”
“Because I loved you,” Cliopher said firmly. “From the beginning. From the moment I chose to step into that pattern, and I found an emperor worth serving. But we are beyond that now, beloved. You don’t have to fear that any longer.”
“My Kip,” Fitzroy sighed. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Nonsense,” Cliopher replied, leaning down to plant a kiss on Fitzroy’s forehead. “I love you.”
“Your set downs, Kip.” But Fitzroy smiled as he said it. He twisted then, to face Cliopher, staring at him searchingly. One of his hands came up to gently cup his cheek, his thumb tucking next to Cliopher’s mouth and his fingers running along the side of his face. “You are not upset?”
Cliopher leaned into the touch, and raised his hand to cover Fitzroy’s. With his other hand, he reached out to cup behind Fitzroy’s head. “I am not upset at what you dreamed, Fitzroy. I wish you could have asked.” He hesitated, then made the effort to be honest with himself, as well as with Fitzroy. “I would have said yes. Maybe not right away. But when I had time to think about it, yes. I have always wanted you to be happy.”
“I still could not have asked.”
“I know. It’s what made you great.”
Fitzroy did not respond to that, but continued to look at him. Cliopher became aware of a subtle glowing of golden light, coming from the hand on his cheek, illuminating his face. “Do you mean that?” he murmured, staring at Cliopher as if trying to capture the smallest of reactions. “Even though you aren’t interested in… kissing?”
Cliopher closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. His mind had finally caught up to his words over the course of this conversation, and he knew he needed to be careful here, after Fitzroy’s vulnerability. “You know I prefer to say what I mean, Fitzroy,” he said, quietly. “I do not dream of it, no, but…” he stopped himself from saying “I don’t mind” again. “I enjoy it, when my partner wants it. It’s simply not something I think of myself. And if, at some point, you want to tell me more about those dreams,” he felt himself blushing, but continued on. “I would be interested to hear them.”
Fitzroy continued to look at him searchingly, then flopped back down onto the bed. “I believe you,” he said quietly. “But I think this is a conversation better had in the morning.”
“That is likely true,” Cliopher agreed. “But we should have it.” He leaned over and kissed Fitzroy on the forehead. “In the morning. Good night, Fitzroy.”
“Good night, my dear Kip,” Fitzroy said, his voice already fading towards sleep. “Sleep well.”