This is not what it looks like

[oxenstierna_b]

WHO: Berwald & Sindre
WHEN: 17th of July, afternoon
WHERE: Berwald's house
WHAT: Flower Egg looks like Tino temporarily. It's doing bad things to Berwald's sanity... and that was without Sindre finding out.
WARNINGS: There will be sex.

Comments

[talks_to_nisse]

Swearing as he searched his pockets, Sindre almost beat his hand against the door as he came up empty. How had he forgotten the key to Berwald's house when the whole point of coming here was to check up on him?

Taking out his own key and cellphone, Sindre silently berated himself as he bumped the lock. Just because Berwald had vanished a few days ago and then didn't call like he promised wasn't a reason to act stupid, his mounting anxiety wasn't any reason to forget something so basic.

Door open, Sindre slipped inside, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Not yet. Berwald hadn't been himself for too long now, and if he had to spy on him during one of his friend's moments of weakness to get a better idea of how to help, he would.

When he actually found Berwald, however, he had to bite the web between thumb and forefinger, hard, to keep the wounded noise from slipping out.

He tried to remind himself that of yet, he had no claim on Berwald. That Berwald had wanted to wait. Now, Sindre had a better idea of why.

He didn't know how long Tino had been back, but judging by the way they were curled together, the way Berwald stroked his hair, suggested that not only was this not Tino's first day back, but that Berwald had known for quite a while.

He didn't intend to say anything. He meant to turn, to leave, to go back to his apartment where he could just catch his breath for a moment. But the hurt and jealousy and slowly-building anger burned too strongly within him, and when the words slipped out, he was surprised at how little of those emotions bled into them. How flat he was able to keep them.

"So this is why you didn't want me coming over."

[oxenstierna_b]

Flower Egg got up when Sindre spoke, a strangely blank expression on her face though her body shook with glee at seeing a familiar person. She tried to run to him, forgetting in her exitement what little she learned about moving in a human body, and only succeeded in falling of the sofa, letting out an alarmed little bark.

Berwald got up more slowly, staring first at Sindre with blank, worn horror, and then turning to Flower Egg because even she was easier to deal with than that terrible cold look Sindre was giving him. He pulled her back onto the sofa, patting her to calm her down.

As soon as her whimpers had quietened down, he turned to adress Sindre again.

"'s not Tino," Berwald told him, still so emotionally numb his voice came out flat and calm. It was absurd to tell him it was actually Flower Egg but... what else was he going to say. "it's Flower Egg. She's cursed."

[talks_to_nisse]

If Sindre hadn't known Tino, hadn't known that the other man would never do such a thing, he might have considered the possibility Tino was faking. But it was something Tino would never do, and there was no denying that the person with Berwald was acting like a dog.

The tight knot in his chest loosened at that train of thought, but it did not disappear. The person Berwald held might be Tino. He might merely be a close look-alike. He might even truly be Flower Egg.

But.

But.

Regardless of who it was, Berwald still clearly had no problems curling up with him on the couch. He didn't bother to let Sindre know where he was. He told Sindre to stay away. And, most damning, Berwald's face had screamed horror when he saw him.

"I see," was his only reply, his voice still coated with icy calm. "That makes everything perfectly acceptable. That perfectly explains why you didn't want me here, why you wanted to wait."

[oxenstierna_b]

Sindre was angry. Berwald wasn't sure he'd ever seen him like this, not at him at least. He wasn't even entirely clear on why... unless it was his silence. Suddenly he remembered the creature in the apartment. Maybe there had been other madness too, if things were anything like last year. He'd just left Sindre to deal with all that alone, what had he been even thinking.

He hadn't. He'd just not wanted to deal with explanations, and with someone else seeing the... mockery of Tino Flower Egg had been transformed into.

All that still wasn't a good enough excuse for what Berwald had done.

So this was how it would end then, he thought, before they'd even really begun anything. No more than you deserve, he thought, with something almost like vindictive satisfaction.

He knew he should do something to stop the unraveling, knew in an abstract way he'd regret it later if he didn't... wouldn't he? But what was the point, when it would all come crashing down sooner or later like everything good in his life did.

In any case, he didn't seem to have any words to say, could only stare at Sindre. In the end he turned away again. Fatalism settled on his shoulder like a heavy blanket, making him feel slow and old, too weary for anything.

"Shouldn't have asked that 'f ya. It's not going t' get better," he told Sindre calmly.

[talks_to_nisse]

That. Was. It.

Sindre's tenuous hold over his anger vanished. Even if everything he was thinking and saying was true--and he could recognize even through his jealousy and ire that it probably wasn't all true--he didn't want Berwald to just take it.

He'd tried to give Berwald the space to sort himself out. He'd bit down on cutting comments and his irritation at being so damn injured and needing to rely on Berwald the way he did, because Berwald had seemed to forget exactly how much he should take those to heart. Which was not at all.

But he was done. If Berwald wasn't going to hit back like he should, fine. If he wasn't going to fight back, try and work himself around Sindre's anger and resolve what he had just seen, fine.

That didn't mean Sindre would let him.

Reaching out, he clenched his fist on nothing and pulled, sending frigid water crashing down on Berwald, soaking him, the couch, and the Tino-dog thing completely.

"You are going to get up. You are going to stop the self-flagellation. You are going to explain. And then you are going to deal with this. Or I will do that again."

[oxenstierna_b]

Flower Egg yelped, fleeing the sofa and shaking herself, barking. Berwald sat still for a moment more, ice water dripping from his nose. Then he got up, and stomped over to the door to the kitchen, snapping a command at Flower Egg to go inside, which she obeyed with almost no hesitation, unless one counted her wary glances at Sindre. He closed the door with a clipped movement, visibly restraining himself from banging it shut.

When he spoke, his voice came out as a low growl.

"Explain? I had a weird dream, an' was stupid enough t' make a request... trust me, wasn't f'r 'nything like this," he spat out. "Woke up, she's... there. All I know. What else ya want t' know?"

[talks_to_nisse]

"I want to know where you've been," Sindre all but snarled, stalking across the room to crowd in Berwald's space. "I want to know why you haven't come home, why I haven't heard from you in days.

"I want to know why, when you find your dog turned into a person, I wasn't on the short list of people you called for help." He threw his arm back toward the sopping couch. "I have some experience in the damn area!"

He stepped closer, eyes sparking with anger, leaving less than an inch between them. "Do you think you can answer those?"

[oxenstierna_b]

The last few days, Berwald had been oscillating between aimless anger that, missing a reachable target, kept collapsing into listlessness. Sindre was about the last person he would have usually chosen for a target, but unfortunately he was the only one there.

"Ya were the only one on that list! I j'st decided 't was one too many," he practically snarled, not moving back from the Norwegian at all.

[talks_to_nisse]

"Why," Sindre demanded. "So you could sit here and wallow in self-pity? So you could curl up and pretend this wasn't happening?"

His earlier worry almost all transferred to anger, he gripped Berwald's upper arms. "Why am I not good enough to help you?" he hissed, no self-depreciation in the question, just temper.

[oxenstierna_b]

Berwald shook his head, something like disgust twisting his mouth.

With anger, the cover of numbness was receding, bringing back the hurt, layer upon layer of it from too many hard knocks. And soon Sindre would be gone too. Thinking about it, really thinking about it was like tearing open an infected wound, flooding his mind with coppery anger.

"Maybe 'cause I knew this would happen," Berwald hissed, his voice quiet and hoarse as if it hurt to speak. "'s fine 'nough to have a brother who's weak but ya wouldn't want that 'n a boyfriend, would ya?" He hardly knew what he was saying anymore, just grasping at anything to defend himself with. Anything that would hurt.

"Ya knew what I was like well enough," he mumbled darkly, accusingly. "So why did ya even think it'd work... or did'ya notice how I wanted ya and are j'st that bad at saying no t' yer lillebror?"

He knew on some level he was going too far, but it was a half forgotten feeling from years ago, almost giddy. Over the edge and flying on adrenaline.

[talks_to_nisse]

All the counter-attacks forming--that there was a difference between emotional distress and not taking care of yourself, a difference between struggling to cope and just giving up--vanished at Berwald's last accusation. He had to resist the urge to physically recoil, on part of him not reeling from the blow refusing to give ground.

"Din faens jævel," Sindre breathed, eyes widening for an instant, before they narrowed.

Tightening his grip on Berwald's arms, Sindre pushed him until Berwald's back hit the wall. Pressing flush against him, pinning him to the wall, Sindre curled one hand around the Swede's neck and pulled him down into a rough kiss. Correctly predicting Berwald's lips would part as his back hit the wall, Sindre immediately took advantage, sliding his tongue in and maintaining control of the kiss.

Only when his lungs burned for want of air did Sindre pull back, biting at Berwald's lip as he did so. "Does this fucking feel like pity?" Sindre demanded, dragging Berwald's mouth back to his without giving him a chance to answer.

[oxenstierna_b]

All the while his thoughts speeded by in a jumbled, confused mess, Berwald's arms clutched onto Sindre's arms like a vice. While he was the one pressing Berwald into the wall, he couldn't have pulled back if he'd tried.

How dare he do this now, after making it clear he wanted nothing to do with Berwald anymore? If he had been angry before, he was furious now. Sindre's words were only meaningless sound in his ears. His hands dug into Berwald's shoulders almost painfully. Something in him thrilled at that hint of possessiveness, and Berwald hated that. Hated the part of himself that hoped there'd be marks, something to show this was really happening.

The sharp bite on his lip no doubt would show later, if nothing else, Berwald noted in passing. So far, he'd too surprised to do much but take it, but the mixed roil of anger and arousal at the slight pain prompted him to act, hands moving from their grip on Sindre's arms to his back. By accident, Berwald's hands found a sliver of skin, the soft warm feeling of it almost shockingly sensual between rougher fabrics. He pushed under the shirt to feel more of it, rucking up the fabric.

His breath was hitching on stubbornly swallowed moans, every point their bodies were touching hypersensitive. It was all too much too fast, and he wanted more.

[talks_to_nisse]

Finally, finally, Berwald was taking something for himself. Clutching Berwald tighter, Sindre released a moan into Berwald's mouth at the feel of his hands warm on his lower back.

His own noise drew his attention to the utter lack of sound from Berwald, and his hitching breath told Sindre exactly why. The deliberate denial of sound just fueled his fire. If Berwald had just said something, anything earlier, they wouldn't be in this mess. Sindre wouldn't have been worried. Wouldn't have been jealous over a damn dog. Wouldn't be fighting. And he was still trying to keep sound in, even now?

Sindre would make him work for that silence.

He released Berwald's mouth and shoulders at the same time, biting at Berwald's earlobe even as his hands moved to undo the buttons on his shirt. He wasn't sure how many he undid and how many he tore off, but his mouth had traveled a good ways down the strong column of Berwald's neck before he was done. He continued teasing down Berwald's neck with lips and tongue as he flung the shirt open to run his hands up the broad expanse of Berwald's chest.

Once he reached Berwald's pulsepoint, however, Sindre bit down hard, sucking, determined to mark him visibly as he dragged his nails down Berwald's chest. The jealous, possessive part of him that couldn't get the image of Berwald and Tino out of his head, that wouldn't listen to the truth of that truly being Flower Egg, was determined to stake it's claim. Berwald was his, and he would make sure he stayed that way.

[oxenstierna_b]

The back of Berwald's head hit the wall with a dull thunk, his eyes blinking up unseeingly as Sindre nibbled on his neck. It shouldn't have felt so good, but it did, the slight sting not quite enough to clear away the haze of pleasure.

It was eerily as if Sindre had read his mind and then done exactly what Berwald didn't want to need him to do. Damn him, how was he supposed to win over that? Somehow, and soon, he'd have to find some way to gain some control over it all or...

Sindre biting him once again, and then sucking the aching spot was like... like nothing he'd experienced before. For a second, he couldn't think at all, only feel.

Someone was making a sound, a sort of low, keening growl... it was him, wasn't it? He had an unpleasant feeling he might have just shouted as well.

What the hell was Sindre trying to prove, anyway? Berwald was getting to the point where he didn't even care. Still... Sindre was still fully clothed and composed, while Berwald feared he might come if Sindre even brushed against his groin and... and he'd never live that down.

Imagining him smirking about it (in a way that was really more alike someone else, though that didn't occur to Berwald) was perhaps the one thing that could pull him back from the edge.

Berwald pushed at Sindre, turning and pressing him against the wall in turn, a bit too hard as if he'd been expecting more resistance. Even his expression was surprised for a second, before it shifted into intent focus, a small frown on his face. Considering, as his eyes flickered over his reddened, bruised lips, the rumpled shirt. There was a faint flicker of satisfaction in the blue eyes at the evidence that Sindre wasn't unaffected by the situation either.

Berwald let go of his wrists then, holding the Norwegian in place by simply staring him in the eyes, his expression unreadable. He stepped closer, crowding him, hand drifting over the buttons of his shirt... Berwald glanced down, his the high colour on his cheeks deepening slightly as he licked his lips, and then his hand was on the one button on Sindre's pants, popping it open in one smooth motion, just a slight catch in Berwald's breathing betraying how nervous he was, and then he pulled down the zipper.

He glanced at Sindre's face again, a hungry look, and then leaned in to kiss him, pressing close with their legs tangled together, but not so close that he could brush one hand over the bulge in Sindre's boxers, rubbing it firmly.

[talks_to_nisse]

The noises he coaxed from Berwald's lips were heady, heating Sindrre's blood with the desire to draw more forth. To see, hear Berwald getting flushed, flustered under his own hand.

Being pulled away from his prize had him crying out in protestation, reaching toward the other man. But he found his hands pinned against the wall in the same way he was, and that forced him out of his haze, just enough to wake up the more calculating part of his mind. It was clear that the Swede had something planned. Best wait to see what it was before moving.

Berwald's cries had more than slaked his immediate desire, after all.

The hesitant hands at his zipper gave him a general idea, but he was distracted by the kiss. Letting Berwald take control of it, Sindre ran his hands over Berwald's chest again, seeking out sensitive spots, ghosting along ribs and barely brushing against a nipple.

A warm, calloused hand rubbed against his growing erection, and it was Sindre's turn to drop his head back against the wall. For all the hesitancy in Berwald's hands earlier, none was apparent now. Sindre moaned quietly as he thrust back against the hand, acutely aware of how long it had been since someone had touched him like this.

But he wasn't about to submit so easily. Tangling their legs together had placed one of Sindre's between Berwald's, and he used that to his advantage, raising his knee to rub against Berwald's own erection. One hand reached up to curl around Berwald's neck, thumb pressing on the spot he had bitten. The other slid into Berwald's back pocket, giving Sindre the leverage to pull Berwald's hips forward, pressing him firmer against Sindre's knee.

[oxenstierna_b]

Berwald let out a low, choked sound at the sudden motion, his hips stuttering forward and his eyes closing. He leaned back from the kiss to give Sindre a weak glare for distracting him from the Plan.

A moment later, though, his eyes were drawn down to Sindre's lips and past them, surveying him again with a contemplative expression. Even irritated, he
didn't seem cabable of rushing a decision, but something in Sindre's expression said he might take things into his own hands again unless Berwald moved on.

Still...

Berwald had to use both of his hands to pull off Sindre's t-shirt, even with his help. Afterwards, his hair looked rumpled too, little bits of it sticking up, and Berwald couldn't help his ire slaking a bit, into something more wistful. He wanted to brush his hand through the soft strands, and kiss Sindre again, but gently this time... but no, this wasn't like that.

His eyes had gone flat and cool, but the spark of hunger in them remained, like fire burning blue. His hands followed his eyes over pale skin, fingertips rough with callouses. Finding a place over Sindre's hip bones that caused his breath to catch, Berwald fell on his knees, licking over the spot and allowing the moisture to cool under his breath before sucking on it, his fingers kneading the same place on the other side.