Coffee #2
Author: Regret
Rating: 12
Story: Destruction/Reconstruction Steampunk Universe
Challenge: Coffee #2 - Tea
Word Count: 1,216
Summary: After being caught in the act, there's the inevitable interrogation.
Notes: This doesn't really go anywhere, but it was in my head and now it's not, so I suppose there's something to be said for that. Also, third time lucky with posting I guess.
Kirill always poured the tea. Niko was usually too wrapped in discussions with his clients to remember such niceties, and it gave him something useful to do rather than sit around like an oversized and badly repaired ornament.
He didn’t feel so useful with Niko’s mother’s narrow-eyed stare boring into the side of his head as he poured the best tea into the best china, for all the good he was increasingly aware it wouldn’t do. At least Niko’s father, a strong, broad- shouldered man like his son, sipped at his tea with good grace, even giving Kirill a wink that sent him scurrying back to his seat beside Niko.
“You could at least have warned us,” Niko’s mother was a pretty older lady with now faded blonde hair and a complaining voice that cut through the heavy air of the parlour as she lifted her cup, saucer held delicately beneath, and stared critically at the brown liquid inside. “Mind, I would have expected your slave to let you know we had arrived, but I suppose he was otherwise occupied.”
There was that glare again, the one he was sure was trying to melt his ear. He stared down at his hands and tried not to blush while Niko dropped his folded arms heavily on the table, rattling the crockery. “He’s not my slave. He’s my apprentice, yes, and my lover, but he’s not my slave.”
“If he’s not a slave, then what about his face?” His mother asked archly, giving Kirill a look that left him quailing in his seat, trying desperately not to hide beneath his hands. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, most of the big houses have slaves these days-”
“Is there a reason you came to visit?” Niko snapped, knuckles raised and white with the force he gripped his own forearms. “Or was it just to jump to rash conclusions and insult my boyfriend?”
It’d be fascinating if it wasn’t so out of character. He’d seen many sides to Niko since that first morning, but this sulky child act when faced with his parents was a new and uncomfortable development-although from his mother’s exasperated sigh, perhaps it wasn’t that new. “Are we not allowed to visit our children?”
Niko scowled down at his untouched tea. “I didn’t tell you I was here.”
“No, we had to hear about it from your brother.”
“I didn’t tell Lev either!” It took effort for Niko to unfold his arms. One hot hand dropped to wrap tightly around Kirill’s cool one; he squeezed back and hoped it offered a little comfort. Maybe it did: Niko seemed mollified, his expression softening. “This is Aiden’s house, not mine. Remember?”
If Kirill had thought the boiling sugar that had hit his face when he was eighteen was hot, it was nothing compared to the glare Mrs. Lunen fixed on their entwined fingers. The only thing that stopped him dropping the hold again was Niko’s firm grip. “I don’t know how Lev knows,” she said with the voice of one who’s trying to sound reasonable and knows they’re failing miserably, “but he said this was where you were, and here you are.”
Niko muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly insulting and finally managed to raise his mother’s irate stare from their hands. “Now you’ve seen me, you can go. Remember to write before you visit next time.”
“We make the journey here and you send us away again?” His mother sounded aghast. “That’s no way to behave!”
A gesture from the corner of his eye caught Kirill’s attention: Niko’s father, with a lop-sided smile, gave the side of his cup a hollow tap. Kirill rose, gratefully disentangling his fingers from Niko’s, and set to pouring more tea while Niko snapped back at his mother, “neither’s just bursting into someone’s house. Bad enough if it was mine, but it’s not! What if Aiden and his wife were here instead?”
“Does this Aiden know about your slave?”
Kirill took Mrs. Lunen’s distraction as the opportune time to refill her cup and tried to ignore the way Niko’s growl made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “He’s met my apprentice, yes. He likes him. Happy?”
She gave Kirill another of those critical looks eerily reminiscent of the ones he’d received at slave markets and drank her fresh tea without a word of thanks. “When will you settle down with a nice girl?”
Niko slammed both hands down onto the table with enough force to make the teapot leap an inch into the air. “This again?! You came all this way for this?” His chair screeched back over the wooden floor. In a few steps Kirill was beside him, both hands clasped around one of Niko’s, and Niko subsided again with little more than an ill-tempered glare at his mother. “That discussion is well and truly closed, do you understand?”
“But Lev’s wife is going to have another baby-”
“-Then you don’t need me providing you with any more grandchildren, do you?”
When Niko’s mother glared at Kirill again, it bordered on disgust. “I don’t think this is a suitable topic to be discussing in front of him, do you?”
“I’m sorry,” Kirill murmured, letting Niko’s hand go again. “I’ll go and-”
“No, don’t,” Niko said, at the same time as his mother said icily, “I think that would be for the best.”
“I,” he hesitated and stared helplessly up at Niko. “I’m sorry, I’ll-”
“Stop apologising!” Niko’s shout made him cringe back, both arms wrapped protectively around himself. “You don’t need to apologise, you’ve done nothing wrong!”
Kirill hung his head and didn’t need to look to feel the triumphant stare against the side of his head. Of course Niko would shout, Kirill was nothing but an embarrassment to him now, particularly in front of his parents-he even had parents ; Kirill had never even given it a thought, lacking so much in that area as he did, and of course they’d hate the sight of him, a pathetic slave-but to not be allowed to hide himself away...
When warm arms enveloped him he almost flinched away again until he recognised Niko’s distinctive smell. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m just on edge.”
He looked up at Niko, who smiled down at him not with his usual brilliant grin, but instead with a wan and pathetic effort, and clung to him. “I’m fine, I overreacted.”
Niko pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You didn’t, and I...” he shot a glare over Kirill’s shoulder, “was provoked. But it’s okay, they’re leaving now.”
From behind he heard an angry sputter, then Niko’s father’s calm voice. “I think it’s time we left the boys to their day now, dear. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Still safely wrapped in Niko’s hold, face buried against his shoulder, he heard the sound of china clattering down into a saucer and chairs scraping over floors, along with a pointed not-really-a-whisper of, “he has to grow up some day,” followed by a harsh male shush that made the corners of his mouth lift very slightly.
Niko might have taken after his mother with looks, but Kirill suspected the best parts of his personality must have come from his father.
Rating: 12
Story: Destruction/Reconstruction Steampunk Universe
Challenge: Coffee #2 - Tea
Word Count: 1,216
Summary: After being caught in the act, there's the inevitable interrogation.
Notes: This doesn't really go anywhere, but it was in my head and now it's not, so I suppose there's something to be said for that. Also, third time lucky with posting I guess.
Kirill always poured the tea. Niko was usually too wrapped in discussions with his clients to remember such niceties, and it gave him something useful to do rather than sit around like an oversized and badly repaired ornament.
He didn’t feel so useful with Niko’s mother’s narrow-eyed stare boring into the side of his head as he poured the best tea into the best china, for all the good he was increasingly aware it wouldn’t do. At least Niko’s father, a strong, broad- shouldered man like his son, sipped at his tea with good grace, even giving Kirill a wink that sent him scurrying back to his seat beside Niko.
“You could at least have warned us,” Niko’s mother was a pretty older lady with now faded blonde hair and a complaining voice that cut through the heavy air of the parlour as she lifted her cup, saucer held delicately beneath, and stared critically at the brown liquid inside. “Mind, I would have expected your slave to let you know we had arrived, but I suppose he was otherwise occupied.”
There was that glare again, the one he was sure was trying to melt his ear. He stared down at his hands and tried not to blush while Niko dropped his folded arms heavily on the table, rattling the crockery. “He’s not my slave. He’s my apprentice, yes, and my lover, but he’s not my slave.”
“If he’s not a slave, then what about his face?” His mother asked archly, giving Kirill a look that left him quailing in his seat, trying desperately not to hide beneath his hands. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, most of the big houses have slaves these days-”
“Is there a reason you came to visit?” Niko snapped, knuckles raised and white with the force he gripped his own forearms. “Or was it just to jump to rash conclusions and insult my boyfriend?”
It’d be fascinating if it wasn’t so out of character. He’d seen many sides to Niko since that first morning, but this sulky child act when faced with his parents was a new and uncomfortable development-although from his mother’s exasperated sigh, perhaps it wasn’t that new. “Are we not allowed to visit our children?”
Niko scowled down at his untouched tea. “I didn’t tell you I was here.”
“No, we had to hear about it from your brother.”
“I didn’t tell Lev either!” It took effort for Niko to unfold his arms. One hot hand dropped to wrap tightly around Kirill’s cool one; he squeezed back and hoped it offered a little comfort. Maybe it did: Niko seemed mollified, his expression softening. “This is Aiden’s house, not mine. Remember?”
If Kirill had thought the boiling sugar that had hit his face when he was eighteen was hot, it was nothing compared to the glare Mrs. Lunen fixed on their entwined fingers. The only thing that stopped him dropping the hold again was Niko’s firm grip. “I don’t know how Lev knows,” she said with the voice of one who’s trying to sound reasonable and knows they’re failing miserably, “but he said this was where you were, and here you are.”
Niko muttered something under his breath that sounded distinctly insulting and finally managed to raise his mother’s irate stare from their hands. “Now you’ve seen me, you can go. Remember to write before you visit next time.”
“We make the journey here and you send us away again?” His mother sounded aghast. “That’s no way to behave!”
A gesture from the corner of his eye caught Kirill’s attention: Niko’s father, with a lop-sided smile, gave the side of his cup a hollow tap. Kirill rose, gratefully disentangling his fingers from Niko’s, and set to pouring more tea while Niko snapped back at his mother, “neither’s just bursting into someone’s house. Bad enough if it was mine, but it’s not! What if Aiden and his wife were here instead?”
“Does this Aiden know about your slave?”
Kirill took Mrs. Lunen’s distraction as the opportune time to refill her cup and tried to ignore the way Niko’s growl made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “He’s met my apprentice, yes. He likes him. Happy?”
She gave Kirill another of those critical looks eerily reminiscent of the ones he’d received at slave markets and drank her fresh tea without a word of thanks. “When will you settle down with a nice girl?”
Niko slammed both hands down onto the table with enough force to make the teapot leap an inch into the air. “This again?! You came all this way for this?” His chair screeched back over the wooden floor. In a few steps Kirill was beside him, both hands clasped around one of Niko’s, and Niko subsided again with little more than an ill-tempered glare at his mother. “That discussion is well and truly closed, do you understand?”
“But Lev’s wife is going to have another baby-”
“-Then you don’t need me providing you with any more grandchildren, do you?”
When Niko’s mother glared at Kirill again, it bordered on disgust. “I don’t think this is a suitable topic to be discussing in front of him, do you?”
“I’m sorry,” Kirill murmured, letting Niko’s hand go again. “I’ll go and-”
“No, don’t,” Niko said, at the same time as his mother said icily, “I think that would be for the best.”
“I,” he hesitated and stared helplessly up at Niko. “I’m sorry, I’ll-”
“Stop apologising!” Niko’s shout made him cringe back, both arms wrapped protectively around himself. “You don’t need to apologise, you’ve done nothing wrong!”
Kirill hung his head and didn’t need to look to feel the triumphant stare against the side of his head. Of course Niko would shout, Kirill was nothing but an embarrassment to him now, particularly in front of his parents-he even had parents ; Kirill had never even given it a thought, lacking so much in that area as he did, and of course they’d hate the sight of him, a pathetic slave-but to not be allowed to hide himself away...
When warm arms enveloped him he almost flinched away again until he recognised Niko’s distinctive smell. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. I’m just on edge.”
He looked up at Niko, who smiled down at him not with his usual brilliant grin, but instead with a wan and pathetic effort, and clung to him. “I’m fine, I overreacted.”
Niko pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You didn’t, and I...” he shot a glare over Kirill’s shoulder, “was provoked. But it’s okay, they’re leaving now.”
From behind he heard an angry sputter, then Niko’s father’s calm voice. “I think it’s time we left the boys to their day now, dear. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Still safely wrapped in Niko’s hold, face buried against his shoulder, he heard the sound of china clattering down into a saucer and chairs scraping over floors, along with a pointed not-really-a-whisper of, “he has to grow up some day,” followed by a harsh male shush that made the corners of his mouth lift very slightly.
Niko might have taken after his mother with looks, but Kirill suspected the best parts of his personality must have come from his father.