[BACKDATED] moments of happiness elude

[unlostsoul]

Characters: Teddy/Throne (child_proteus) and Billy/Want (unlostsoul)
Date/Time: BACKDATED. The night of July 25, immediately after Throne gets a bad ping from Praise
Location: Throne's room, Throne and Argent's house, Section 4
Rating: PG
Summary: Want sees an exchange in the journals that worries him and goes to check up on Throne. Turns out that was a pretty good idea

Comments

[Morning of July 26th]

[unlostsoul]

Want wakes to the sound of pounding on the bedroom door and a voice that it takes a few seconds to identify as Argent's shouting, "Please rouse yourself! The day is upon us and will not stand for tardiness." In the air between him and the bed, Want finds a pillow and stuffs his face into it, wondering what he's done to have British in his house so early in the morning and why Drake hasn't ninja'd him yet.

He's mid-way through a very long, sleepy string of mental swearing when he remembers that the reason there are Argents wandering about is because this isn't actually his house or his bedroom or his bed or his pillow. Gingerly, Want lifts his face slightly and pries one eye open to look to the other side of him and, sure enough, he finds Throne right beside him, sleepily ignoring British too. The level of intimacy in this action -- the ability to wake up, turn your head, and find someone there, within reach -- is staggering to Want, and he holds his breath like it's an ocean and he's just plunged in. Phaugh, he thinks when the worst of the rush is over, and his head has cleared, too early for this. So he buries his face in his pillow again and concentrates on trying to suffocate himself back to sleep.

[child_proteus]

Throne's standing barefoot on a rooftop -- red terra cotta tile under his feet. He peers over the edge and the world seems to telescope away when suddenly hears Argent's voice and that's when Throne realizes he's dreaming. Shifting slightly where he lays, he let out a sound as articulate as a grunt. Maybe he'll go away or decide that I'm gone or maybe just kitten snowflakes read watermelons...

Okay, so Throne's not quite awake, but that doesn't stop him from talking. His mind is trudging slowly through that nebulous grey space that exists between sleeping and waking, though he does have the wherewithal to at least get the name right. "Argent," he mutters into his pillow, which is clutched beneath his face, the word equally muffled and smudged so it sounds rather more like "Mfhnt" than anything. "Argent," again, lifting his head slightly, louder this time, though still not loud enough to hear. "Stop being the bffn vvn mf nsissn...." Throne's head drops back down again, both eyes still decidedly shut. However, when the knocking doesn't stop, he twists in the air, onto his back and bumps, quite awkwardly and definitely unexpectedly with something to his side. Warm, he thinks and makes a small sound, his mind not even aware that there is processing to be done. Throwing an arm over his face, he cracks open one eye, and mutters aloud, "if this is about his goddamn tea I swear I--" There's movement in his peripheral vision, and then, suddenly, Throne's mind catches up.

Ah, shit.

[unlostsoul]

Smothering yourself with your pillow, unfortunately, doesn't make you deaf too, so when Want hears Throne mutter Argent's name, his head ticks up, just enough so that he can see Throne over the fabric. His first instinct is to take his pillow and put it over Throne's face to muffle his sleepy pseudo-chatter, so that he can go back to sleep but after a moment, he changes his mind and decides that watching Throne wake up is too unexpected and pleasant and unlikely to happen again anytime soon to miss out on.

So he moves his head all the way to the side and watches with a small smile as Throne flips about and mutters some more in a sleep-slow voice, waiting for his presence to be re-discovered until finally and abruptly Throne stills, coming fully awake. Want's smile widens at the same time, surprisingly pleased at being caught so quickly, although it dampens a little again right away. "Hey," he says, sounding mushy-mouthed and sleepy still himself.

[child_proteus]

It takes a moment for Throne's brain to do the math, separating out dream from memory, fantasy from reality, and is still a bit confused -- thought not really surprised -- to realize the answer is Want. Want, whose looking at him with his sleepy brown eyes, hair tousled and sticking up and out in strange angles -- the kind that shouldn't exist even when gravity decides to go on vacation. "Hey," Throne says and feels himself blush, because saying to somebody you'll see them in the morning, and actually -- literally -- rolling over and doing so are two totally different things. He bends at the waist slightly, mimicking sitting up by propping his elbows, even though there's nothing below him to brace himself against. He smiles at Want lazily, reaching up to pat him once -- like a doting aunt -- on the cheek.

"You look--" And there are several different options at his disposal, the top one being adorable, followed closely by hot. "--rested." Tilting his head to one side, he gives a sideways yawn, covering his mouth with the back of his hands, eyes squinting tightly as he lets out along drawn out noise. "Oof," he amends, once his done, giving his head and then his whole body a tight little shake. "Man, screw you, Argent," he adds mournfully, half to himself.

[unlostsoul]

Want flushes warmly thanks to the look Throne gives him -- bright and heavy all at once. Sleepy as he is, Want can't summon the energy to do anything but let the pleased, hungry flood of heat run its course, so he nestles back into his pillow and enjoys it and enjoys the chance to watch Throne this closely without a shred of guilt about doing so.

If he looks rested, Want figures, then Throne looks... really rested. His eyes track the way the muscles in his jaw and throat contract as he yawns, the curve of his arm as his hand comes up to cover his mouth. To maintain even the appearance of not-staring and not-kinda-enjoying-the-view-a-lot, Want has to shuffle his pillow around in his arms to cover his mouth, hiding his smile and hoping that his eyes won't give him away. "This is what I've been saying all along," he points out, enunciating each word as much as he can so they can still be heard through his mouthful of pillow case.

[child_proteus]

Even though he's yawning and entirely all-there yet, Throne can still tell when he's being stared at. Usually it's just a faint tingle on the back of his senses, but this time its more like a car alarm going off, attached to a subwoofer that pressed right up against his brain. Not that he's complaining. If it was another time, another place, he might be wondering why Want's behaving like this -- so obviously staring and so obviously enjoying it -- but right now Throne's not inclined to care. Because, he has to admit, he kind of enjoying it too; watching Want's eyes watching him from over the pillow in a way that tells him somewhere behind it, there's a smile and a big one.

"It's different," Throne eventually says, his diction sleep-smeared and sloppy. Shifting slightly closer, he presses lightly against the side of Want's body, twisting so they're front-to-front. With one hand, he reaches out and pushes the top of Want's pillow down, exposing the quirked smile underneath. Raising his eyebrows, Throne stares at Want's mouth for a more beat before allowing his darkening eyes to slide upwards. "When I say it," he grins, and his voice is a tease, "I say it with everlasting friendship and love. But with you," and the hand on the top of the pillow presses further down, knuckles grazing against the front of Want's chest, "With you, my friend, survey says that that's not quite how you mean it."

[unlostsoul]

Want hums thoughtfully in response, and he drops his eyes down to his pillow and Throne's hand before lifting them up again to Throne's face, though with all this slow, muzzy talk (and he carefully avoids thinking "pillow-talk" here) his eyelids stay sort of droopy anyway, like he could fall back asleep at any moment. Behind that though, he eyes are running lazy trails across Throne's face, trying to take advantage of this as best he can, before his walls and worries come up to caught him off.

For a few moments, he thinks idly about not letting them come back. He probably could if he tried, push them down, a little application of will and then maybe he'd be able to enjoy things like this more often, watching how Throne's eyelashes move when he blinks and the way his earrings look in mid-morning sunlight. But, Want recognizes quickly, this is a sort of think of the devil and he shall appear situation and thinking about his worries will only make them come back quicker, so he pushes that thought away and concentrates on Throne's voice instead.

It's not easy to do when even Throne -- who can usually cut through every thought in Want's brain by breathing loudly enough -- comes through like he's being muffled by cotton balls. "You don't know that," he says finally, a delayed yawn stretching the words out slightly. "Maybe I've decided to turn over a new leaf. Take Argent under my wing and try to cure him of his dastardly, British ways. He could be my protege."

[child_proteus]

Throne rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in an overall bodily expression of the thought Oh please. And, then, for added measure -- because when has ever Throne thought on his life enough if enough -- he decides to say it as well. "Oh please," he says, and gives a slight toss of his head too one side, his eyes the entire time trained on Want. He wonders if the whole staring thing is a symptom of being sleepy and decides, if that's the case, then the two of them need to be sleepy more often. There's an unapologetic openness about him, as if, suddenly, for just a short while, Want's decided to play at being Throne for a bit. And this, well, this certainly pleases Throne, though there is a momentarily flicker of panic when a pinch appears in between Want's eyebrow.

Not yet, is what he thinks and almost says aloud for a moment. And then, as quickly and as suddenly as it came, it's gone again and Want isn't thinking too hard, he's just plain staring. Throne pouts and dips down his head so that in order to look up at Want, his now-brown eyes have to go slightly large. "We'll have none of that, mister," he says, his hand now shifting and rearranging itself -- palm-flat against Want's chest. With a playful push, he nudges at Want, making him jostle slightly, but then catching him by his shirt so that he doesn't actually float away. "Maybe I like his dastardly, British ways. Besides..." A tiny grin that spreads easily -- Cheshire-like. "Protege implies you're making him in your own image and I think I've got my hands full with just one of you -- thank you very much."

[unlostsoul]

Laughing, Want, lets go of his pillow, pulls out of Throne's grip and turns onto his back. He runs both hands over his face and through his hair, turning them palms-out above his head and stretching. When he lets the stretch go, he feels floppy and boneless. He turns back onto his side, letting on hand rest on his hip but not certain of what to do with the other hand, so it just sort of floats aimlessly beneath him.

"I hate to tell you this, dude," he says, summoning up a bit of mock-seriousness, though it can only go so far when they're both lounging about like, well, lazy teenagers. For once. "It's my villainous master plan to flood the world with clones of me and take it over through the power of, I don't know, sort of being able to cook and having a crappy sense of direction."

The mock-seriousness collapses entirely at that, and he moves his loose hand to scratch the back of his neck before floating it out between them and coming just a tiny distance away from touching the collar of Throne's shirt before stopping. "I guess you'll just have to get better at dealing with me. More practice. Something," he says, smiling with his eyes mostly trained on where his fingers stopped or slightly above at Throne's throat.

[child_proteus]

With Want out of reach -- though not really and for not very long -- Throne slowly pulls his hand back, his head lazily tilting back and forth so that he can take a very obvious and gratuitous look at Want's body when he stretches. Even though he's seen Want stretch before, Throne admits he has an appreciation for the new context -- the muscles of Want's arms going taut, the small sliver of pale skin that's exposed as the hem of his shirt rides up. He has half a mind to reach over and touch it, slip two fingers lightly across it and inside his shirt, just to experience that sleep-warm skin. But even when swimming through the fog of waking, Throne still has some sense of what is a completely very wrong and not good idea. So instead, Throne simply entertains the idea and -- surprise surprise -- can feel the tips of his hears going red.

"More practice means more practice, you know," he eventually says with smirk. "Which means that I'd require more face-to-face time. Consider it," and he pauses to think, "consider it hands-on experience for the coming apocalypse." To make his point, Throne pushes himself forward slightly, forcing Want's hand to come in contact with his throat. "On the flip side," he then adds with a smile, "this would mean you'd get some practice with me. Since I'm thinking two of us could make for some improvement."

[unlostsoul]

"I think you're probably right," says Want in a distracted voice. His fingertips on Throne's throat don't actually give him anymore of an idea of what to do with that hand. This seems, like so many things Throne does, like an open invitation, like a teasing refrain of c'mon c'mon c'mon. Want has spent a lot of time pretending he doesn't see that or, when he can't pretend that, pretending that he isn't tempted. But this time, he lets his fingers slide up Throne's neck until his whole palm can fit flat against it and his thumb can brush against Throne's Adam's apple.

He lifts his hand away again almost immediately; his pulse is awake now and hammering hard in his own throat, so he curves his arm under his head like a pillow and gives more serious consideration to what Throne has just said. "I can definitely live with more face-to-face time anyway," he says, and he can tell his brain is starting to stir because it comes out more seriously than he expected. "I am more than okay with all this meeting-up-to-bear-our-souls stuff, but it's exhausting sometimes. I'd like to hang out with you just to hang out more."

[child_proteus]

Throne grins when Want's hand finds his throat --however briefly -- in a very deliberate way; the hollow of his palm pressed fleetingly against his pulse, the faint tickle of the edge of his thumb. Almost immediately, Want pulls away, but some part of Throne can't help but feel pleased; because Throne can tell that Want's rolling with it for once -- well, at least as best as he can manage. The fact that Want doesn't seem completely mortified and has a curiously satisfied look on his face, confirms this for Throne -- though he's not sure how much longer it will last.

The more that Want talks, the clearer he becomes, as if his voice and his body language is slowly racking into focus. The addledness of a sleepy brain could only get them so far, and proper waking seems to be approaching by degrees. Echoing the way Want pulled back, Throne shifts onto his back once again, throwing his weight slightly away from Want so that their two bodies drift slightly apart. He stares at the ceiling, listening to Want speak and yawns once into his hand. "Agreed," he finally says, tilting his face towards Want to look at him, offering a half-smile. "I honestly think the two of us have filled our life time quotas for really deep thoughts this week. So no argument there." Pausing, Throne scrunches up his face, speaking to Want through squinty eyes. "Granted, this means we'll have to find reasons to hang out. Or have we moved past that into, hey I just like you around, territory?"

[unlostsoul]

Want feels like scrambling after Throne and hanging on better, even though they've only moved apart by a little, a distance that would've seemed too close less than a month ago. But this more than anything seems to signal that it's time to wake up and by degrees, his brain and body lose their fuzzy edges. He rolls up into sitting, pulling his knees in, looping his arms around them and then settling his head on its side on top of his knees, so that he's a loose little boy-ball. He can hear a thread of wariness in Throne's voice, even when it isn't entirely obvious on his face or really obvious in his voice. Want might not have noticed it at all, except that Throne's words make him echo wariness in response.

"Yeah, let's just hope everything and everyone else notices our quota is full." He pauses, like Throne did but instead of scrunching up his face, it clears, turning into warm, sort of blitzed smile. He lifts his head, uncurling slightly as he tilts towards Throne, managing to catch a pinch of Throne's sleeve to give it a tug. "Hey," he says softly, finding Throne's eyes with his own and holding them, still smiling, "sooo I just like having you around. Apparently"

[child_proteus]

"Well," Throne says tiredly, and gives a small sigh, twisting himself round in the air so that he's laying properly on his stomach. "Survey says that the shit will no doubt hit the fan once again, Dub -- let's just hope it's not anytime soon." He frowns at this, not entirely satisfied, and then adds on, "And when it does, then, well...at least we've got some place to go, right?" It's not quite as reassuring as he'd liked, the questioning dip at the end way too large to be certain. So he covers his slip with another well-placed yawn, extending one arm out and resining his head along it, a posted that says resolutely I'm still in bed.

If it's any consolation -- and admittedly it is -- Want smiles at him, the expression unguarded in a way that indicates to Throne that Want is wide awake. Which makes the gesture all the more meaningful, since there's no sleep in the equation to pass the blame onto. Lifting his head, Throne returns the gesture, rubbing the last traces of bleariness from his own eyes, unsure if they're any color but blue but forcing them that way just in case. "Ah, well," he then jokes, "can never be too careful, you know. Here I was thinking you kept me around because of the whole good-at-opening-jars thing." He gives a small laugh and reaches to poke Want once, playfully, in the shin. "Well, then it's a matter of let's the games begin, right? Cause I'm all for this plan starting...oh let's see here...now."

[unlostsoul]

"I admit it," Want says, throwing his head back and smiling at the ceiling. "I do kind of like having my own personal jar-opening service just down the street." He laughs shortly and looks back over at Throne, eyes doing one last wander before settling on his face. His expression settles into something that is still happy but in a way that is bittersweet at best, memories of last night coming back along with wakefulness. "But it's nice to have somewhere to go when things get not so great. And it's nice to just..." Want waves a hand around between them like this, this is nice.

He hooks his arms back around his knees, right hand holding onto left wrist. "So, on your marks, get set, go?" He lifts his eyebrows, thinking curiously that this is all really backwards. The normal progression should be hang out, things get weird, kiss -- not kiss, things get weird, hang out. And on the same topic, it is equally weird to need to decide to hang out, rather than just doing it. Shut up, Want tells himself, I'm not listening anymore. And, to emphasize the point, he rolls back to lay down, crossing his arms behind his head.

"So, is this an average morning in the Throne-British household? Laze around in bed until someone's caffeine addiction makes him actually unbearable?" He tilts his chin up and to one side so that he can peer at Throne without moving too much. "Because this's actually sort of nice."

[child_proteus]

Pulling his arms back under his chin, Throne makes a makeshift pillow of folded limbs beneath his cheek. He drums his fingers against his own forearms and smiles quietly to himself. Because nice seems to the operative word this morning; and not so much because Want won't stop saying it, but more because -- right now -- between him and Want, that's the way things are.

"You know," Throne says, lifting his head ever so slightly to catch Want's gaze. He lifts one hand, up in the air above his head, jostling Want's side in the process -- accidentally on purpose. "you and him really need to work on this whole name thing. He has a habit of calling you 'your friend' just as often as you say British, and me I'm stuck in the middle, having hard time keeping all these terms of endearment straight." He snorts and waves a hand through the space above his head, jostling Want's slightly in the process -- accidentally on purpose. "Besides, it's not so much the tea he's on about as, just, the lazing in general, I guess." He scrunches his face with irritated affection, lips a lopsided smile. "Not that that make any sense since that's what he does with his life as a whole and I get to do it -- oh how about -- never, the bastard."