My friends say I should act my age

[talks_to_nisse]

Who: Sindre and Søren (and maybe babysitter!Feliks)
When: Wednesday morning to Thursday morning.
Where: Søren's apartment
What: Søren comes to believe in magic.

Comments

[talks_to_nisse]

Bending down, Sindre grabbed a hold of Søren's arms and tried to hoist him upwards. "Get up out of there," he scolded. "No point of having a towel if you're just going to get it soaked sulking. I, at least, apparently had a reason for acting as if i were four."

So he had been four. And seemingly due to his own casting. Sindre tried to force his brain to work, running through what he did yesterday. He recalled Søren convincing him to come down for a beer, which turned into a few, and then to staying over. He recalled going out to the woods, to spend some time alone--

The troll. Grimm. Sindre loosened his grip on Søren for a moment as he recalled who he had found in the woods. He had brought the troll back to live with them, and he had tried to help it reach a more normal size for his age...and it had failed. He thought it had simply dispersed, but it was possible it had rebounded on him.

Sindre seriously hoped that in the rebound the spell had been altered. He didn't want to think that he was so out of practice to mess up so disastrously. "And such shoddy work, if a shower could break it," he mumbled absently.

I madededed a new icon just for dis.

[axkingforit]

He desperately wanted to make the argument that it was his damn apartment, his damn shower, and his damn towel, so he could sulk in whatever manner he damn well pleased.

...then he realized that it sounded like an argument a four year old would make. Still, he didn't much fancy the odds of the towel haphazardly wrapped around Sindre's waist if the Norwegian kept trying to haul him upward. Fortunately, Sindre's grip seemed to loosen the moment Søren pulled himself back a bit.

Two men one bathroom sounded like some kind of sketchy porno, and he really didn't want to think about porn when the two of them were already in a compromising position and wearing (or not-wearing, as it were) even more compromising clothing. And wet. They were wet.

...it was the set up for the best or worst porno ever, depending on your taste.

"Erm," Søren put in intelligently, eyes casting around for something--anything somewhat distracting, "--your shirt-the one you borrow, anyway-it's over there."

The quicker he had Sindre NOT looming over him, the less ambiguous this would all seem, and the faster his brain would go back to functioning normally.

His pouty face is adorable~

[talks_to_nisse]

"A-ah, takk," Sindre almost stuttered as he was drawn back to this new present where all he wanted to do was touch. Swallowing hard as he reached past Søren to turn off the water, Sindre willed himself not to react when he accidentally brushed him.

Turning hastily to find the shirt, he quickly identified another problem. He was still wet. Søren, it seemed, only had the two towels in his bathroom. And he wasn't willing to unwrap the towel from around his waist. Thing would get...uncomfortable.

He needed out of this room. He needed to get some space, get some air, because this could not be happening. He couldn't be overwhelmed with the desire to curl back up in the tub, skin to skin. He needed a reason for leaving.

Shirt in hand, Sindre half-glanced back at Søren. "Are there pants I can borrow?"

Tak~and damn, we need to close this up. :I

[axkingforit]

"A-ah...I guess your pants would still be in my room or somethin' like that..." Søren muttered, casting his eyes down to stare determinedly at the far end of the tub where water sieved lazily down the drain.

If he was being honest, he was still waiting for the bit where an ingeniously hidden camera crew (and maybe hot TV show hostess?) would leap from his linen closet or something and declare this as some kind of comedy sketch and everybody would have a good laugh until Søren booted them all out to nurse his wounded dignity in peace, because the things Sindre were saying kinda really just straight up did not make fucking sense.

...granted, being mortified on national television was hardly better but it seemed a hell of a lot more realistic--or at least feasible--than an "Oh sorry about completely skewing your view of the way the world works, but I somehow botched an Avada Kedavra" or something like that.

Ironically, that was the only spell he could remember from Harry Potter and it made him wonder how much of a twisted fuck he really was.

Y-yeah. ALSO, THIS MIGHT SOUND A WEE BIT FAMILIAR

[talks_to_nisse]

Taking the opportunity to flee, Sindre scooped up the shirt and left, shutting both the bathroom door and Søren's door behind him. He hastily toweled off, then pulled on Søren's shirt before hunting for his pants. Once those were on he sat at the edge of Søren's bed, feeling better for the clothes, less exposed.

Except he wasn't. Dropping his head into his hands, he groaned. It was Søren. Søren. He'd been around him all his life. He'd never...Søren'd never...Sindre supposed he'd always been attractive in an abstract sort of way, but...he'd never felt the need to press a little bit closer or reach out and touch those abs or just dig his hands in Søren's hair and tug his head down to kiss away that look of shell shock...

NEI, he thought to himself, rubbing at his face. Nei nei nei. He's Søren he's your friend he used to be you're brother you can't it's not he can't be...

It was a one time, he decided. A momentary aberration. Søren was physically attractive, Sindre had been randomly pressed up against him, skin to skin. It would have happened with anyone...

It's not...he couldn't be suddenly attracted to Søren. It was such a bad idea, and it didn't make sense. Sindre slept with him, shared a bed on a regular basis, if he were going to somehow notice him, shouldn't it have happened sooner?

And it's not like he just learned Søren was a sexual creature. He used to hear--

He groaned weakly as he shook that thought away. The last thing he needed was to add a soundtrack to the images he was desperately trying to keep from his mind.

It was nothing, Sindre determined. Søren would come out of the bathroom, that strange sense of attraction would be gone, and everything would be back to normal.