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[twocomplex]

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[noctiphile]

[There's a light laugh as Mattias walks out from the bathroom, still drying his hands with a towel.]

A night would have been generous. I believe they wanted me in a bathroom stall. [He laughs again, this time in disbelief, pulling a med kit out of the closet and grabbing a plastic cup from a shelf. Shaking his head, he sits on the edge of the bed, opening the kit and taking out a pair of tweezers, a magnifying glass, rubbing alcohol and a cloth.]

You know, I think I'm starting to become attractive here? Rarely was I so popular back home. Here—[He lets out a low whistle, wiping down the tweezers with the alcohol. The magnifying glass he leaves to the side for now, taking Oren's hand and plucking out the most blatant offenders. They rattle against the plastic cup.]

I get attention at work, too. [He laughs, dropping another shard into the cup.] They seem to think a hefty tip will get me into their bed!

[twocomplex]

[The more Mattias goes on, the more Oren feels uncomfortable. First, to think of Mattias gaining so many interested faces while he struggled for it within the fleet was irritating. He got a handful of compliments or invitations at the bars around here, but the number was tiny compared to what he was used to.

And somehow, the idea of so many eyes pointed at Mattias was completely infuriating. No one cared, not until he'd taken him under his wing.

His expression could be mistaken for a wince, really (and half of the time, it parts into one), but he's actually just annoyed.]

It sounds like you're enjoying it. Was all of Renacht not enough for you?

[It's a light tease tainted with jealousy shown in the way he smiles; it's thin, a little forced, and he glances away as Mattias works at his hand.]

It's not as if they can be blamed, if you're wearing a uniform like that.

[noctiphile]

[He chuckles. Slight as it may be, Oren's jealousy is obvious to a man who's been by his side for three months.]

Oh, come off it. You're doing nothing but giving your god a meal. [It feels good to joke about it freely. There's nothing to hide anymore. One less weight for his shoulders.] It's as you said, it's the clothing doing all the work. Strip down a bit, let them see those tight pants of yours, and I'm certain you'd have offers every ten feet.

[Another piece of glass clatters.] You're far more attractive than me.

[twocomplex]

[His hand twitches a bit at the sting of it, but he bites back any vocal response from the attention. Instead, he chuckles low, shaking his head as he leans a little closer.]

I've a uniform myself, you know. I only just started yesterday.

[But he's well aware of what he can do with it. How to draw attention. It's not enough. He wants it with a lack of effort.] You should know that attraction isn't something that can be compared so easily. If you'd like to try, perhaps you should look at your own heart.

[He touches his own with his free hand, watching Mattias' eyes for a moment before he sits back and looks away. Again, fighting off thoughts, feeding his god, as he put it. (It's a relief to hear that joking for him, as well.)]

I'm no fool. You have me beat.

[noctiphile]

Oren. [He breathes out a laugh, stopping his ministrations for now and meeting his eyes. He wants to touch him, rest a hand against his cheek, but he fights it off.] Has your beating made you sentimental?

[He picks up the tweezers again, moving on to more delicate shards.] The only heart people see is what you let slip on that handsome face of yours. Attraction that deep takes time. It all starts with some shallow thing. Your face, your chest, your ass, your legs. Something has to draw them in. Rarely is it ever personality.

[These smaller shards take longer to get a grasp of. His pauses between words grows larger as he fishes for a hold.] Besides, my own heart's done me few favors. [He chuckles.] Ordinarily, it's what drives people away.

[twocomplex]

Ah, you believe so?

[He's wrong. About him being sentimental, about people not seeing heart first, about his own heart doing him few favors. What were all of these people falling for now, then? There were many ways to get someone to like you. Naturally, or with various formulas.

Little things mattered. Facing someone directly, leaning in when they spoke, keeping eye contact, touching them affectionately in small ways. Small gestures that meant things to the other party, like holding open doors, or bringing them coffee. It was second nature.

He knew how to do it, but there were barriers in his way. Perhaps that was what annoyed him. Here he was, stuck on Mattias, caring far too much about him despite all of the same things that would infuriate him continuing to appear. Bad news about his own goals back home had him worried, not sure if he held enough hope to continue on, but too desperate to turn it away.

His mind was a mess. He was breaking, and even he was recognizing it.

This long pause is spent just staring at Mattias working, expression flicking into brief winces that he wipes away quickly.]

Well, I am still here. [He looks upwards, trying to catch his eyes again. Another callback, this time to just earlier today.]

[noctiphile]

[He smiles, but it's thin. Cryptic in what it shows. He doesn't look up as he speaks.]

Surprisingly. You are unexpectedly stubborn. [Much as he wishes otherwise, he's not displeased by that. It's not something he's proud of.

Still, he's tempted to ask what brings him back. What part appeals, what aspects ensnare. Wants to hear why he's so adamant about this relationship continuing, despite sounding so disgusted a mere month ago.] I do hope it's more than the sex.

[twocomplex]

[That gets a dry laugh, cut short by a sharp intake of breath at another stinging in his hand. It's short, quiet, and he moves on smoothly, leaning in closer once more.]

You should know me by now, Mattias. There are much easier ways to find someone to bed.

[Though Mattias is different. Times with him are different. Infuriating in how he mimics, yet flattering. Promising. Caring. His lips curl up into a smile that has more light in it compared to the last few. He's loosening up, parting his jealousy for this.]

It's your company. [He has a feeling that if he said his heart, the meaning might be taken more grimly.] Your smile. Am I to be blamed for missing days like this?

[He looks down, shoulders sagging just enough to be noticeable.]

You tell me that I must convince you in ways beyond words, and then dig around questions like this? You're awfully cruel, aren't you?

[noctiphile]

I wasn't searching for compliments. [But he's blushing, standing up from his seat to try and hide it. He uses the excuse of throwing away the glass shards he has collected, hovering near the bin, one hand tucked behind his ear. Fixing his hair, shoulders bunched, trying to convince himself that this is part of Oren's game.

But he wanted it, didn't he? How many nights had he counted the reasons he should begin it again? How many ways had he conjured to beg for forgiveness? Now Oren was practically presenting himself on bended knee and he couldn't accept it. Even if Oren was handing him all the things he had ever desired.

He takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. Steels himself and fixes his expression in place as he turns around.] And if I recall, none of our days were spent like this. I believe defending my honor is a first for you.

[He's taking off his tunic now, draping it on the bed before sitting back down. It feels easier to breathe, this way, though he still feels short of breath whenever Oren's eyes fall upon him.] What compelled you to take them on?

[twocomplex]

[He reads his movements. The standing and moving around as fidgeting, the removal of his tunic as opening up (as slight as it is). They're hopeful signs against Mattias' constant rejection and ignoring lately.

It's the fact that he feels so close that compels him to continue, he thinks. There's a clear wall between them, but it feels thin, or see-through, like he can step past it at any moment. And the tension in the air when they're together is too much to ignore. How could he? It's electric. Pulling, willing him closer with every look.

He's got his own pull in his eyes every time he looks at Mattias, and he's not bothering to look away in here nearly as much as he had in the shops. He was closer with every smile. It felt as if he could reach out, just touch it--

He doesn't, of course. He watches, uncurling the fingers of his other hand from his leg.]

You must be joking. Did you expect that I'd let those beasts carry you away? They made you look small in comparison! [He shakes his head with a soft laugh.] To be quite honest, I wasn't thinking much other than how to get them to put you down.

[noctiphile]

A bit of heroism, I can expect. [He does his best to keep his eyes trained away from him, completely aware of the way Oren stares. It does nothing but heat his cheeks again, make him smile. He picks another shard of glass from his hand.]

But breaking bottles and setting monsters on fire? [He chuckles, tilting his head.] As I said, you've become more creative.

[With one last clatter, he pulls the last shard out, turning Oren's hand over to check for any he's missed. When he finds none, he holds Oren's arm with both hands.] This might hurt. [And squeezes, letting the blood well and wash over the cuts, freeing any small remains of glass. He watches as it drips onto the floor with slight dismay.] I'll have to clean that up...

[Later, though. For now, he stands and gets a wet cloth from the bathroom to wash up the blood on his arm.]

[twocomplex]

[Another hiss slides from his lips before he can say anything particularly witty, and he can only stare as his blood drips on the floor. Ah. That's unfortunate... But perhaps in a room like this, they won't take notice.

Belatedly, he hums in thought.]

Creative? Perhaps, but I wish my creativity had extended to something a little less painful. [A pause as he eyes the spot on the floor.] Or messy.

[Honestly. But a thought strikes him, and he looks up and across at Mattias, suddenly deeply curious.]

This isn't an every day event for you at your job, now, is it?

[noctiphile]

What? [He wipes his arm down in full strokes, turning it slowly as he works.] Patching up a beaten man or being crudely handled?

[It's a joke that he smirks at, knowing full well which Oren is referring to.] I've only been working a few days. A couple have flirted, a few took it farther. Only one or two have touched.

[He laughs, shaking his head.] You know, I believe they might think me demure? Perhaps that's the appeal.

[twocomplex]

[He gives Mattias a flat look at the joke, leaning back as much as he can in this chair as Mattias helps with his arm. He can't help it-- he closes his eyes for a moment, letting that be his escape from having to worry about revealing less than pleasant expressions.]

Demure? So they're not aware of how eager you can get. [Though they may be even more interested in that, he thinks, and his mouth straightens a little further.]

What do you think, shall I break bottles over their heads as well?

[noctiphile]

I do try to act professional, Oren. [With his arm mostly clean, he sets the cloth down. Picks up a new, fresh one and dabs at the cuts on his hand and arm, washing them clean before dabbing at them with the alcohol. Light as his touches are, they're lingering, dwelling as long as they can without much notice.] And I don't recall you ever being so possessive. Is this a new side of you or simply one I've yet to see?

[twocomplex]

[The touches are nice, and he hopes that each one lasts longer, right up until the fresh sting of alcohol. One particularly sensitive area gains enough of a reaction for him to react vocally, opening his eyes and sitting up a bit as well.]

Ow. I've had enough of that part, is it nearly finished?

[Mostly it's an excuse to avoid answering the question for now, but as he lets the few seconds pass, he waves his free hand in a vague gesture.]

I wouldn't call it possessive. Would you stand by and allow a friend to be harassed?

[noctiphile]

Not by far. [He mutters in response to the first question, gripping Oren's arm with his free hand so he can't squirm away. When all is disinfected, he draws back and pulls out the bandages and wrapping materials, setting to work on covering Oren's hand.]

There are other ways to stop such harassment. For you to take such a violent method is... unique. I would have thought your silver tongue would have saved me. Skilled as it is, I doubted language would be a barrier.

[He glances up with the coyest smirk.] Clearly, I was mistaken.

[twocomplex]

[He doesn't mind the bandaging. It's less painful than the rest, and Mattias continues to touch him. It's soothing, in a way. Comforting. But that look and those comments light something inside-- another chance for playfulness.]

Do not misunderstand, my dear Mattias. There's nothing my silver tongue can't put to ease. But time is important when using such a method. [He lets that sink in just long enough, raising his own gaze with a small smile.]

Should I have left you to be amazed between his groping? This was the best choice.

[...Okay, not to mention that one of them shoved him and it really pissed him off. That, their attitudes, the way they used their height to their advantage... They were cocky.]

[noctiphile]

Oh, no. No, I am grateful for your swift help, dear prince. [The title comes out without thinking. He doesn't even notice as he moves on.] Indeed, I might have been in your debt had my promised drink not been disturbed. Perhaps I should refer to you differently?

[He finishes the bandaging with a small flourish, smiling at his open palm.] Does hero sound like a fitting title?

[twocomplex]

That's too grand a title.

[He says it just humbly enough, curling his fingers into his palm to test before holding it open again. Tenderly, he looks to him, and his words hang on his tongue a minute before he lets them free.]

But look, we've saved each other. [He aims for a slap for that level of corniness, and the smile that breaks through shows he can't take his own words seriously.]

Thank you. [It's a genuine smile.] You'll have that promised drink yet.

[Those ogres could camp out there and he'd still find a way.]

[noctiphile]

[That hint of a laugh, that touch of a smile, it's too much for him. He can't hold back; his own laugh breaks through, shaking his shoulders as he ducks his head sheepishly. It's a light sound, bells ringing, the first break of sunlight through a window. Something so completely genuine it seems out of place so he hides it with a finger, hoping that Oren can't see the faint blush on his cheeks.

By the time he looks up, the smile's still there. No matter how hard he tries to swallow it, it remains.]

I haven't finished you yet.

[He leans forward with his wet cloth, pulling Oren's chin closer. Their faces a mere inches apart, it takes all his self-control to keep his hands steady, dabbing at the cuts and bruises on his face.] How can you outshine me without your handsome face?

[twocomplex]

[He's beautiful. Oren's caught by it in that laugh, eyes lingering and dragging and absorbing all that he can. Mattias like this is incredibly attractive. It's tainted only by the hint of self consciousness, and it's buried by such a compliment that he doesn't even take notice.

He feels like he could glow. Leaning a fraction of an inch closer than he likely needs to, he watches Mattias closely as his own dried blood is dabbed away. It takes every amount of self control not to try and kiss him, not to push that boundary in a way he knows is too difficult.

He can't make the first move. Not when Mattias' first words of worry had been of it being about sex. Oren observed this, but it wasn't a plot, not some devious plan to trick him. It was just a step closer towards what he wanted-- for some reason he couldn't put his finger on.

He's smiling still, as well, eyes soft in their gaze.]

Oh, please. If you continue to oversell my features, the whole universe will end up disappointed. [It's a halfhearted disagreement. One meant to bat away the compliments while still being flattered.]

You shine plenty. And I don't mean your teeth, this time. [The joke is a nice touch if he dares say so himself, a good natured laugh following after. He can hardly keep still, being held like this. Why wouldn't he talk? Laugh? Smile?]

audio;

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Heeey, asshole. I'm... Whoa, shit--

[there's kind of a thud and a couple of footsteps.]

I'm not gonna lie, I'm kind of fucked up right now, but I just won like two-hundred credits so let's go have some fancy lunch or some shit. I can't find Tek and no one else is interesting enough to sit around with for like three hours and just talk or whatever.

Anyway, call me baaaaack at some point. Okay.

[noctiphile]

[He laughs, but it's bashful. His chest feels tight and his heart flutters against his chest. Self-consciously, he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, gaze flickering to Oren's eyes and then away.]

Careful. [He dabs a cut with a bit too much alcohol. Enough to sting. Just slight punishment for making him swoon.] Any more compliments and you'll have me thinking you mean to spend the night.

[twocomplex]

[It stings, and he closes one eye to cope with it, laughing in his own soft way. This is too tempting. Mattias is playing along, but not enough for it to be a solid deal. He kind of likes that, actually.

But goddess is it torture.]

If you continue to be so harsh, how will I be able to stand, let alone leave? [Half joking, half hopeful flirting in return. He's speaking of that alcohol and those words at the same time. The stinging of his cuts and the pulling at his heart. How cruel, how alluring. But Oren keeps it subtle, keeps it back from being too strong and demanding, but puts it out there enough to be plain as day.

It's a fun game they're playing, and his heart aches for more.]