Original: "It's for sure, not for maybe." Slash
I'm so beyond delighted to see other people posting in this comm again, especially since I missed last week's since I had no internet. Can't wait to go read their's, and I hope y'all enjoy what I've got this week.
Graciously beta'ed by grimcognito, this is for the 1000 Themes, theme 34. Slow Dance.
Summary: Ryker knows what he wants in life, but even for a duke there are some things he can't have.
It took Kiyo several long minutes to realize the pile of clothes on the bed was actually Ryker. The shades were drawn on the windows, the air in the room still and warm with late afternoon heat. A lunch tray sat untouched on the small table in the corner, and Kiyo’s lips pinched together in concern. Even as the door clicked shut behind him, the figure on the bed remained still.
“Your Grace?” Kiyo tried softly, crossing the room slowly.
He was met with an aggrieved groan and he didn’t bother to hide a chuckle. “Well, at least that still garnered a reaction.” He tugged lightly at a sleeve. “What has you in such a state, Ryker? It is rather unlike you to pout so late in the afternoon.”
One of Ryker’s arms moved, enough to reveal an eye clearly set on glaring up at him. Kiyo simply blinked back at him blandly, prodding the duke’s side unsympathetically until he was forced to roll away.
“There is a ball tonight,” Ryker informed him, sounding pained as the words left him.
Kiyo moved away to the wardrobe, already perusing the jackets hung in there. “I am passingly aware of it,” he returned dryly. “I still fail to comprehend why that would be cause for throwing a fit.”
Ryker glared at him balefully from the bed. “I am not throwing a fit.”
“You growled at the maid who brought your lunch,” Kiyo called from deep in the armoire.
“Well, I did not mean to growl at her,” he allowed, somewhat petulantly, and not loud enough to guarantee that Kiyo would hear him. The look his valet shot him said he had heard anyway. Ryker slumped back onto the stack of pillows, staring up at the bed’s canopy and picking at the sheets beside him.
He finally turned to meet Kiyo’s eyes as the man sat on the edge of the bed, taking one of Ryker’s hands in his own. Ryker sighed, expression drooping somewhat sadly. “I had heard through one of the cooks that Prince Gerald has intentions of asking to step out with me for the first waltz,” he admitted, eyes fixed on the canopy once more.
Kiyo hummed thoughtfully, fingers stroking the back of Ryker’s hand delicately. “I was under the impression it was well within your rights to refuse a dance, particularly one that would be considered a public acceptance of your dance partner’s courtship.”
Ryker finally sat up with a sigh, drawing his knees to his chest and loosely wrapping his arms around them, gently taking his hand back. “It is. This afternoon…it was simply…” He sighed again, something like defeat settling over him. “I have merely been lamenting for things I cannot have. I should not have behaved so childishly.”
He made to stand up, but Kiyo barred his way, hands held before himself calmly. “I have never known you to merely pine after something you desired. What put you in the mood?”
Ryker tried to slide past him, but Kiyo glided with him, keeping him boxed in against the bed. “Kiyo, let me by.”
“Whatever it is caused you to miss an afternoon of meetings. That is no trifle; what has upset you so?” Kiyo tried, face carefully kept neutral. Ryker tried to slip by him again, but Kiyo was right there, mask impassive and stance unyielding.
“It is nothing. Now move out of my way,” Ryker demanded, the set of his mouth going hard.
Kiyo held fast, frustration lending his words bite. “You neglected your duty and upset one of your chambermaids, and that is something you have not done in the time I have known you. Something has supplied you with enough petulance for several small children, and you have locked yourself away like some damsel. There is a reason to all this and I would have it,” Kiyo bit out.
Ryker tried to shove past him now, but Kiyo had played as much bodyguard as valet during their travels together, and he was too solid for the duke to move. As Kiyo pushed him back once more, Ryker finally broke, brows pulled back in anger but eyes lit with desperation. “I wished to step out with you!” he snapped, sagging back onto the bed. “I have no desire for foreign princes or maidens newly of age. I only wanted to step out with you for the first waltz, so that everyone would know I am already being courted.”
He shoved back on the bed as Kiyo stepped close, hands clenched so hard in front of him that the knuckles were bone-white. Kiyo kept coming, bringing one knee to rest between Ryker’s so he could lean in, cupping the duke’s face gently. “Look at me,” he said softly, thumbs gently urging Ryker’s chin up until he could meet his valet’s gaze. “I do not know,” he continued, the words just barely loud enough to be heard. “I do not know what I have done to cause you to believe anything less, but I am sorry for it, my duke. I would love nothing more than to step out with you for the first waltz, if that is what you desired.”
Ryker looked up at him, eyes drawn together. “Truly? I had…I had thought you would not want that, would not wish to endure the things that people would say.”
Kiyo stroked his cheeks. “My duke, there is little that people could say that would sway me from finally taking my place next to you. I would like to be seen with you in the light of day.”
Ryker’s eyes lit up and the smile he gave Kiyo was as shy as the first time they had kissed. “Would you dance the first waltz with me tonight, Kiyo? I am not a great dancer…”
Kiyo stood up, pulling Ryker with him so they stood chest to chest. “I can lead,” he murmured, hand falling to Ryker’s waist and pulling him in closely.
Ryker’s head fell to his shoulder, humming softly as they waltzed in the quiet of their room.
Graciously beta'ed by grimcognito, this is for the 1000 Themes, theme 34. Slow Dance.
Summary: Ryker knows what he wants in life, but even for a duke there are some things he can't have.
It took Kiyo several long minutes to realize the pile of clothes on the bed was actually Ryker. The shades were drawn on the windows, the air in the room still and warm with late afternoon heat. A lunch tray sat untouched on the small table in the corner, and Kiyo’s lips pinched together in concern. Even as the door clicked shut behind him, the figure on the bed remained still.
“Your Grace?” Kiyo tried softly, crossing the room slowly.
He was met with an aggrieved groan and he didn’t bother to hide a chuckle. “Well, at least that still garnered a reaction.” He tugged lightly at a sleeve. “What has you in such a state, Ryker? It is rather unlike you to pout so late in the afternoon.”
One of Ryker’s arms moved, enough to reveal an eye clearly set on glaring up at him. Kiyo simply blinked back at him blandly, prodding the duke’s side unsympathetically until he was forced to roll away.
“There is a ball tonight,” Ryker informed him, sounding pained as the words left him.
Kiyo moved away to the wardrobe, already perusing the jackets hung in there. “I am passingly aware of it,” he returned dryly. “I still fail to comprehend why that would be cause for throwing a fit.”
Ryker glared at him balefully from the bed. “I am not throwing a fit.”
“You growled at the maid who brought your lunch,” Kiyo called from deep in the armoire.
“Well, I did not mean to growl at her,” he allowed, somewhat petulantly, and not loud enough to guarantee that Kiyo would hear him. The look his valet shot him said he had heard anyway. Ryker slumped back onto the stack of pillows, staring up at the bed’s canopy and picking at the sheets beside him.
He finally turned to meet Kiyo’s eyes as the man sat on the edge of the bed, taking one of Ryker’s hands in his own. Ryker sighed, expression drooping somewhat sadly. “I had heard through one of the cooks that Prince Gerald has intentions of asking to step out with me for the first waltz,” he admitted, eyes fixed on the canopy once more.
Kiyo hummed thoughtfully, fingers stroking the back of Ryker’s hand delicately. “I was under the impression it was well within your rights to refuse a dance, particularly one that would be considered a public acceptance of your dance partner’s courtship.”
Ryker finally sat up with a sigh, drawing his knees to his chest and loosely wrapping his arms around them, gently taking his hand back. “It is. This afternoon…it was simply…” He sighed again, something like defeat settling over him. “I have merely been lamenting for things I cannot have. I should not have behaved so childishly.”
He made to stand up, but Kiyo barred his way, hands held before himself calmly. “I have never known you to merely pine after something you desired. What put you in the mood?”
Ryker tried to slide past him, but Kiyo glided with him, keeping him boxed in against the bed. “Kiyo, let me by.”
“Whatever it is caused you to miss an afternoon of meetings. That is no trifle; what has upset you so?” Kiyo tried, face carefully kept neutral. Ryker tried to slip by him again, but Kiyo was right there, mask impassive and stance unyielding.
“It is nothing. Now move out of my way,” Ryker demanded, the set of his mouth going hard.
Kiyo held fast, frustration lending his words bite. “You neglected your duty and upset one of your chambermaids, and that is something you have not done in the time I have known you. Something has supplied you with enough petulance for several small children, and you have locked yourself away like some damsel. There is a reason to all this and I would have it,” Kiyo bit out.
Ryker tried to shove past him now, but Kiyo had played as much bodyguard as valet during their travels together, and he was too solid for the duke to move. As Kiyo pushed him back once more, Ryker finally broke, brows pulled back in anger but eyes lit with desperation. “I wished to step out with you!” he snapped, sagging back onto the bed. “I have no desire for foreign princes or maidens newly of age. I only wanted to step out with you for the first waltz, so that everyone would know I am already being courted.”
He shoved back on the bed as Kiyo stepped close, hands clenched so hard in front of him that the knuckles were bone-white. Kiyo kept coming, bringing one knee to rest between Ryker’s so he could lean in, cupping the duke’s face gently. “Look at me,” he said softly, thumbs gently urging Ryker’s chin up until he could meet his valet’s gaze. “I do not know,” he continued, the words just barely loud enough to be heard. “I do not know what I have done to cause you to believe anything less, but I am sorry for it, my duke. I would love nothing more than to step out with you for the first waltz, if that is what you desired.”
Ryker looked up at him, eyes drawn together. “Truly? I had…I had thought you would not want that, would not wish to endure the things that people would say.”
Kiyo stroked his cheeks. “My duke, there is little that people could say that would sway me from finally taking my place next to you. I would like to be seen with you in the light of day.”
Ryker’s eyes lit up and the smile he gave Kiyo was as shy as the first time they had kissed. “Would you dance the first waltz with me tonight, Kiyo? I am not a great dancer…”
Kiyo stood up, pulling Ryker with him so they stood chest to chest. “I can lead,” he murmured, hand falling to Ryker’s waist and pulling him in closely.
Ryker’s head fell to his shoulder, humming softly as they waltzed in the quiet of their room.