Fic: Ignorance
Title: Ignorance
Fandom: Dollhouse
Pairing: Victor/Topher
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Where understanding is more likely to get you in trouble.
AN: Written for comment_fic
Topher should have been expecting it really. Victor is nothing if not predictable in his bemusement.
"I don't understand." There's an edge of worry to the words, like not understanding is some sort of failure that he might be punished for.
"The pier is short, and the walk is long. So you are, in effect, telling someone, who's opinion you don't agree with, to fall into the water." Topher's hand gestures try to convey this, as gently as possible. But good phrases lose something when you have to pull them apart, lose something, and also sometimes stop making sense.
Victor's eyebrows go up, and then down, a flickering tapestry of surprise, and unhappiness, not confused smudged edges of reaction, but real, tangible.
"Why would you want to do that?" Victor adds, offering yet more confusion to the mix.
Topher makes a noise in his throat.
"It's the age old question of how to politely tell someone to go-" Topher stops, and reconsiders the exact phrase he was about to use, considering. "To..." He waves a hand, but nothing more civilised comes to him. "Never mind."
He leaves Victor to ponder the nature of man, and his ability, or lack thereof, to swim while he uses the thinking parts of his brain to update the file he opened not three minutes ago.
Bare feet move across carpet, and Topher twists his head back, to make sure Victor is not in danger of sticking his fingers into any plug sockets, only to find him astonishingly close.
In fact Victor is now pressed into his back, chin a curious shifting weight on Topher's shoulder, sharp when Victor tilts it, to see what he's doing, curiously following his fingers with his eyes. Though it's done with all the over-familiarity of a child, all hands, and warm breath, and lack of personal space issues.
But Victor is not a child, he's a full weight of skin and bone, and the fingers that shift-tap at Topher's waist, are stronger than his own, given the inclination. Given the purpose, though there's nothing, almost certainly nothing, in the way he manages to make it all seem so very un-childlike.
Topher is definitely not a child.
And he doesn't have the comfort of blissful ignorance.
"What did I say about touching Victor?" Topher says carefully.
He can't see the expression when Victor tenses, unhappily, when he slides his weight, and his hands, free and takes two uncertain steps back on the carpet.
Then he stands there looking lost.
Victor clearly doesn't understand this either. Though his arms sway, then stop and slide behind his back, as if he's afraid he might accidentally touch him again.
Which he will.
It's hard to learn restraint when you don't remember the lessons.
Fandom: Dollhouse
Pairing: Victor/Topher
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: In no way mine or anything to do with me. I own nothing.
Summary: Where understanding is more likely to get you in trouble.
AN: Written for comment_fic
Topher should have been expecting it really. Victor is nothing if not predictable in his bemusement.
"I don't understand." There's an edge of worry to the words, like not understanding is some sort of failure that he might be punished for.
"The pier is short, and the walk is long. So you are, in effect, telling someone, who's opinion you don't agree with, to fall into the water." Topher's hand gestures try to convey this, as gently as possible. But good phrases lose something when you have to pull them apart, lose something, and also sometimes stop making sense.
Victor's eyebrows go up, and then down, a flickering tapestry of surprise, and unhappiness, not confused smudged edges of reaction, but real, tangible.
"Why would you want to do that?" Victor adds, offering yet more confusion to the mix.
Topher makes a noise in his throat.
"It's the age old question of how to politely tell someone to go-" Topher stops, and reconsiders the exact phrase he was about to use, considering. "To..." He waves a hand, but nothing more civilised comes to him. "Never mind."
He leaves Victor to ponder the nature of man, and his ability, or lack thereof, to swim while he uses the thinking parts of his brain to update the file he opened not three minutes ago.
Bare feet move across carpet, and Topher twists his head back, to make sure Victor is not in danger of sticking his fingers into any plug sockets, only to find him astonishingly close.
In fact Victor is now pressed into his back, chin a curious shifting weight on Topher's shoulder, sharp when Victor tilts it, to see what he's doing, curiously following his fingers with his eyes. Though it's done with all the over-familiarity of a child, all hands, and warm breath, and lack of personal space issues.
But Victor is not a child, he's a full weight of skin and bone, and the fingers that shift-tap at Topher's waist, are stronger than his own, given the inclination. Given the purpose, though there's nothing, almost certainly nothing, in the way he manages to make it all seem so very un-childlike.
Topher is definitely not a child.
And he doesn't have the comfort of blissful ignorance.
"What did I say about touching Victor?" Topher says carefully.
He can't see the expression when Victor tenses, unhappily, when he slides his weight, and his hands, free and takes two uncertain steps back on the carpet.
Then he stands there looking lost.
Victor clearly doesn't understand this either. Though his arms sway, then stop and slide behind his back, as if he's afraid he might accidentally touch him again.
Which he will.
It's hard to learn restraint when you don't remember the lessons.