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“I believe that it’s time we had a talk,” says Irving Braxiatel, staring down his younger brother and Koschei as they fidget in their chairs.
“Braaaax,” Theta whines, drawing out his brother’s name in a way that must be specifically designed to annoy him, “do we have to?”
Irving, he corrects in his head. No one in this damn house ever calls him Irving.
“Yes. You two have been together for at least two years, and, more importantly, you’re going to graduate soon.”
“We’re not togeth—” says Koschei, cut off by a well timed glare from Theta.
”Shut up,” thinks Theta, with not a single regard for the security of his psychic link, “I want to see where he’s going with this.”
Satisfied with their sudden attention, Irving pulls a stack of index cards from his pocket, each of them adorned with perfectly looping Gallifreyan letters. He’s been preparing for this moment — it’s a sensitive subject, after all, and he’s nothing if not considerate.
Additionally, it doesn’t hurt that the look on Theta’s face as Irving begins to shuffle through the cards is absolutely priceless.
He clears his throat. Loudly. Koschei fails to stifle a giggle. “When two Time Lords are in…love,” he says stiltedly, leaving an adequately uncomfortable pause between each word, “They form a special sort of connection.”
Koschei buries his face in his hands. Theta turns red enough to match his robes.
He flips to the second card, letting the first one fall to the floor. “It can be very personal, but it’s nothing to be ashamed about — it’s a part of our biology, after all. Everyone from your teachers to Rassilon himself has engaged in it.”
“Oh my god,” mutters Koschei.
“Shut UP,” Theta thinks loudly in return.
Another card falls to the floor.
“Now, even though it’s very common, it’s important that you know how to engage with it safely and maturely. To start, you want to make sure you’re always using protection.”
At this assertion, Koschei peels his hands from his face for just long enough to speak. “Braxiatel,” he says before Irving interrupts with “Call me Irving.”
“Don’t call him Irving,” yells Theta, overlapping his older brother’s voice.
“Erm. Anyways,” Koschei continues, shooting a nervous glance in Theta’s direction, “You do know you can use the word sex, right?”
“What,” says Irving, furrowing his brow in discontent.
“Like you said, we’re all old enough to be talking about this, and it’s awkward enough already.”
“I don’t think that you understand what I’ve brought you here for.”
This time, it’s Theta and Koschei’s turn to be confused.
Irving turns his stack of cards around, revealing the writing on the top card. In neat, bold Gallifreyan, it reads:
When establishing a telepathic connection with your partner, you should always make sure that they’re prepared to receive it. Unconscious Time Lords don’t want telepathy.
The room is silent as the two boys read the card, and remains silent as they look at each other.
Very quickly, it all falls apart.
“For Rassilon’s sake,” Theta manages between wheezing laughter, “Did you really try — see, Ko, I told you we should hear him out — this is amazing.”
Koschei sits still as a statue, a smile growing on his face as Theta places his hands on Koschei’s temples. “Oh Koschei, honey, baby, sugar, can I pretty pleeeease read your mind?”
Koschei gives in, playfully swatting at Theta’s hands. “You wouldn’t be able to, anyways. Braxiatel, did he tell you that he’s failing Introductory Hypnosis?”
Irving grimaces, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No, he didn’t tell me that, or I would have offered to help him.”
Neither of the boys acknowledge the offer, too lost in their own puppy love to pay attention to the important matters of education at hand.
“You know what,” he says, distinctly defeated, “Why don’t you two just take these and go do your homework.”
He hands Koschei the index cards — he’s witnessed firsthand Theta’s skill at misplacing important things, as demonstrated on multiple unfortunate instances involving ceremonial headwear and a long walk through the woods — hoping as they leave that at least some of what he’s said will get through to them.
Or not. It’s their problem now. A good older brother can only do so much, after all, and Irving has certainly tried his best.