[ficlet] Dining with Dragons
Lost had ended maybe ten minutes ago, but there was still half a pizza left so Thomas didn't see much of a reason to get up. A peppy teen movie replaced the rerun on television, but he didn't bother reaching for the remote, instead wolfing down half a slice of pepperoni pizza.
A now-familiar whistle sounded from outside his door, accompanied by the click of his lock, and Thomas levered himself up just far enough to peer over the back of the couch. “You know,” he said as the little blue dragon walked in, nudging the door back closed with her tail, “most people knock when they want to come in. Just because you can open locked doors doesn't mean you have to. What if I was entertaining?” Despite his annoyed tone, Thomas did not insist Skysong leave, instead making room on the couch for her.
Skysong ignored Thomas' complaints, instead hopping onto the couch with an awkward leap. At the mention of entertaining, however, she gave a disapproving trill, the edges of her scales taking on a dull rust orange sheen. “There's pizza if you want it,” Thomas said, in turn ignoring the disapproving trill. He had grown used to Kitten's presence, some small part of him even relishing contact with a being clearly intelligent and thoughtful but who was also completely safe from the consuming darkness inside him. Not that he would tell the young dragon.
The curious whistle, on the other hand, he acknowledged by grabbing the pizza box and holding it out to Skysong, letting the dragon poke through the contents without having to hop off the couch and back on. Or worse yet, into his lap. The first time she'd done that, Thomas had been taken by surprise and nearly swore to wear leather pants again. Skysong chirped a thank you as she peered into the pizza box, eyes avid with curiosity. She dipped one claw into the pizza, pulling off a glob of cooling cheese, and sniffed at it before holding it up to Thomas, her head tilted in a familiar, waiting gesture.
“That's cheese. You've had cheese before,” he answered, finishing off his slice and wiping his hand on the leg of his jeans. Kitten's eyes followed his motions and she chirped again, her tail tapping his wrist in admonishment: dragon charades for 'use a napkin'. He'd picked up that one early. He laughed off the warning and continued, “That's cheese, the red stuff is tomato sauce, and the round pieces are pepperoni. It's like sausage. And you can't tell me you don't recognize pizza crust as bread, Kitten.”
The mention of sausage seemed to satisfy Skysong and she raised the claw to her mouth, licking delicately at the glob of cheese. Thomas laughed at the young dragon's caution, his hand resting against her back. If someone who knew him had seen Thomas at that moment, they might have marveled at how utterly human he looked. He still wore the subtle attraction of his family legacy like a second skin, but he was relaxed, the tension that haunted his eyes for the moment dispelled. It wasn't happiness, couldn't be, but it was a moment of something like peace.
“Aren't dragons supposed to be all about eating wizards and screaming princesses?” Thomas teased, his free hand idly running over Skysong's scales. “And here you are picking at pepperoni pizza like you think it's going to explode.” On the television, a young blonde woman was having a teenager breakdown in front of an older, bald man Thomas could only assume was her father. When Skysong pointedly ignored his words in favour of picking up a slice of pizza in dexterous claws and taking a bite, Thomas laughed again. He settled comfortably back against the couch, falling into companionable silence as the young dragon ate, licking her talons neatly after the slice of pizza disappeared into her mouth.
The movie was still going, now with the handsome male lead making some sarcastic witty remark to his friends. Romantic teen comedies weren't usually his cup of tea, but this one was painless enough, so Thomas left it on, letting its fluffy dialogue wash over him as Skysong watched, occasionally nudging him for an explanation of some slang or object. Eventually, when it ran to commercial, he looked down at Skysong, raising an eyebrow as she gestured to the pizza box again.
“If you show up earlier next time, maybe I'll let you pick the toppings.”
A now-familiar whistle sounded from outside his door, accompanied by the click of his lock, and Thomas levered himself up just far enough to peer over the back of the couch. “You know,” he said as the little blue dragon walked in, nudging the door back closed with her tail, “most people knock when they want to come in. Just because you can open locked doors doesn't mean you have to. What if I was entertaining?” Despite his annoyed tone, Thomas did not insist Skysong leave, instead making room on the couch for her.
Skysong ignored Thomas' complaints, instead hopping onto the couch with an awkward leap. At the mention of entertaining, however, she gave a disapproving trill, the edges of her scales taking on a dull rust orange sheen. “There's pizza if you want it,” Thomas said, in turn ignoring the disapproving trill. He had grown used to Kitten's presence, some small part of him even relishing contact with a being clearly intelligent and thoughtful but who was also completely safe from the consuming darkness inside him. Not that he would tell the young dragon.
The curious whistle, on the other hand, he acknowledged by grabbing the pizza box and holding it out to Skysong, letting the dragon poke through the contents without having to hop off the couch and back on. Or worse yet, into his lap. The first time she'd done that, Thomas had been taken by surprise and nearly swore to wear leather pants again. Skysong chirped a thank you as she peered into the pizza box, eyes avid with curiosity. She dipped one claw into the pizza, pulling off a glob of cooling cheese, and sniffed at it before holding it up to Thomas, her head tilted in a familiar, waiting gesture.
“That's cheese. You've had cheese before,” he answered, finishing off his slice and wiping his hand on the leg of his jeans. Kitten's eyes followed his motions and she chirped again, her tail tapping his wrist in admonishment: dragon charades for 'use a napkin'. He'd picked up that one early. He laughed off the warning and continued, “That's cheese, the red stuff is tomato sauce, and the round pieces are pepperoni. It's like sausage. And you can't tell me you don't recognize pizza crust as bread, Kitten.”
The mention of sausage seemed to satisfy Skysong and she raised the claw to her mouth, licking delicately at the glob of cheese. Thomas laughed at the young dragon's caution, his hand resting against her back. If someone who knew him had seen Thomas at that moment, they might have marveled at how utterly human he looked. He still wore the subtle attraction of his family legacy like a second skin, but he was relaxed, the tension that haunted his eyes for the moment dispelled. It wasn't happiness, couldn't be, but it was a moment of something like peace.
“Aren't dragons supposed to be all about eating wizards and screaming princesses?” Thomas teased, his free hand idly running over Skysong's scales. “And here you are picking at pepperoni pizza like you think it's going to explode.” On the television, a young blonde woman was having a teenager breakdown in front of an older, bald man Thomas could only assume was her father. When Skysong pointedly ignored his words in favour of picking up a slice of pizza in dexterous claws and taking a bite, Thomas laughed again. He settled comfortably back against the couch, falling into companionable silence as the young dragon ate, licking her talons neatly after the slice of pizza disappeared into her mouth.
The movie was still going, now with the handsome male lead making some sarcastic witty remark to his friends. Romantic teen comedies weren't usually his cup of tea, but this one was painless enough, so Thomas left it on, letting its fluffy dialogue wash over him as Skysong watched, occasionally nudging him for an explanation of some slang or object. Eventually, when it ran to commercial, he looked down at Skysong, raising an eyebrow as she gestured to the pizza box again.
“If you show up earlier next time, maybe I'll let you pick the toppings.”