[fic] A Long Day's Journey Into...
Title: A Long Day's Journey Into...
Author: fencer_x
Pairing: Nataraja/Pasupata
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nataraja and Pasupata take a trip. Along the way, there are two rooms, two beds, a smelly inn--and lots of awkwardness :D
Notes: Because I just couldn't help myself :P Another fic in this universe~
When the knock came at the thick wooden door separating his room from the drafty hallway of the ritziest inn he'd been able to afford (which was: slightly fewer fleas and bedbugs in the mattress than the inn across the street), Nataraja knew it was probably too much to hope it was the Master with his bucket of hot water for his bath. He grabbed the latch with no small amount of hesitation, long fingers wrapping around the handle as he steeled himself for the inevitable.
"...No."
In the doorway, Pasupata frowned. "Why not?"
Nataraja jerked his head towards the musty duvet and straw-filled pillow his friend had tucked under his arm. "Because we paid for your room and you're sleeping in it."
"I never said I was sleeping in it."
A beat. "...Then why did we pay for it?"
Pasupata's smile returned, knowing, and he ducked under the arm Nataraja had braced against the doorjamb to keep him out, making himself at home. "Did you want to be the one to ask for a single room for two men?"
Nataraja flushed, frowning at the patronizing tone. "Well--no, but--why?" He waved towards the hallway, shutting the door so their argument didn't attract more attention than their presence already had; suffice to say, despite donning relatively plain-looking clothes (much to Nataraja's distaste) they hardly looked like innocent, weary travelers as most of the inn's other occupants were.
It was a week's journey by foot to the shanty town Nataraja had called home years ago (which was at best a half-truth--as he couldn't precisely remember the town--and at worst, an outright lie--as he had never called any one place home until he'd joined Shiva and Pasupata in the palace). Nataraja had declined the carriage Shiva had graciously offered them after finishing his tantrum over not being allowed to join them, something Nataraja felt horrible for being happy at. It wasn't that he disliked Shiva's companionship--far from it; they were more alike than Nataraja cared to admit at times, which was frightening. It was only that...just now, this was something he needed to settle with Pasupata and Pasupata alone. Shiva couldn't understand the strains under which Nataraja and Pasupata had formed their friendship, and it was high time they remolded it and made it stronger.
Besides, Shiva had a kingdom to rule, as his advisers had reminded him. Nataraja had silently thanked any god listening for those helpful words of placating.
He groaned to himself when Pasupata calmly shook out the duvet, building himself a cozy little nest on the floor beside Nataraja's rickety bed, and Pasupata gave him a look, half concern and half annoyance. "What, you don't want me here?"
"That's--not it," Nataraja snapped back defensively, crossing his arms and looking away.
"...Then what's the big deal?" He punched the pillow a few times to fluff it up, setting it at the head of the pallet with a soft murmur of content, nodding to himself. He placed his hands on his hips and turned back to Nataraja. "...Or is there even really a problem?"
Brows furrowed, Nataraja whipped his head back around. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Pasupata shrugged. "Sometimes you argue just to have an excuse to be contrary."
"Do not!"
"See?" Nataraja was properly cowed, and Pasupata shook his head, biting his lip to fight a smile. "It's not necessarily bad, though, it's just...really you. You don't like accepting things you think you haven't earned, so you try to fight them off."
He snorted in disbelief. "I'm supposed to earn you barging into my room and sleeping on my floor and making me afraid I'm going to step on you if I ever have to get up and pee in the middle of the night? Wow, how ever can I expect to merit that honor?"
Pasupata flopped back on the bed, spread eagle--it was best not to think about all the mites lurking just inside the mattress, he supposed. "You could let me have the bed."
"You have a bed. In the room right next to this one."
"I like yours better."
"Why?"
"It's in your room."
Nataraja just rolled his eyes and stalked forward, sitting at the edge of the bed and twisting around to glare down at his friend. "I don't even know why I invited you on this trip. You're nothing but trouble and we've only been on the road for a day."
Pasupata pushed himself up onto his elbows, cocking his head to one side. "You said it was because I was your friend."
Nataraja's harsh mien softened a bit, and he became quite interested in the threading on the coverlet. "That doesn't sound like something I'd say."
"Well you did." He sniffed, and glanced away. "You said a lot of things."
Nataraja licked his lips. "You know--" Pasupata turned back to him, brows knit in curiosity. "--I...didn't meant it." The expression now shifted to one of fear and disappointment, jolting Nataraja into continuing his explanation. "What I said, back...at the tomb. That I never thought of you and Shiva as my friends." He shrugged. "I was just...scared, I guess. That when you found out who I really was, you'd never forgive me, and I'd be thrown out of the palace and--and it's not that I was scared of being thrown out, understand? Just, not...being around you two. And Adis made it sound like it would've been a better world, I guess. I...I dunno, maybe I still kind of think it would." He swallowed, and locked eyes with Pasupata to impress his conviction. "But I never would've left you behind. Not before, and not now."
Pasupata's expression softened, and he bit his lip, praying the low light in the room concealed his blush better than he was at suppressing it. Truthfully, he hadn't expected so frank a confession. "...Well, I did mean what I said." Nataraja frowned, his turn to be confused. "You know crap like station and blood don't mean anything to me or Shiva--"
"--It wasn't just that--"
"Well it sure as hell was a big part of it!" He caught himself before his voice got much louder, checking his temper; while Pasupata considered himself relatively easygoing--you kind of had to be, to not go crazy being Shiva's friend and oftentimes co-conspirator--sometimes Nataraja could just be so thick when it came to his past. The few times it had ever come up in conversation before, the man had quickly clammed up or changed the subject entirely, slipping on a mask of nonchalantness as thin and false as any other gaudy costume in his wardrobe.
Those first few weeks had been the worst; lies was how their friendship had started, lies on both boys' parts. "Who's there? What's going on? I--I'm blind, I can't see anything. Is that--smoke?" and "Just--hold on, here. Take my hand, I'll get us out. I think...there's a fire. I saw smoke, and--I just ran inside. I just ran inside." And he'd always thought that, deep down, Nataraja had to have known the truth, surely couldn't have missed the way Pasupata's eyes followed him when he wasn't thinking, before he'd trained himself to see without seeing and let his eye wander but never linger.
He felt the bed dip a bit and started when he felt a hand cover his own--soft, lavish fabric of long, glove-covered fingers grabbed feebly at the fingertips closest. "I was scared, and I was stupid. And I apologized." Nataraja's face was close and his expression penitent, but only just so; his pride had withstood just about enough apologizing, and now he was treading into territory where he was feeling less apologetic and more defensive, likely wondering just how much longer he was going to have to duck his head and say he was sorry before they could move on.
Pasupata kicked himself mentally; he was being an ass now, brushing off Nataraja's feelings as inconsequential and irrational, when he himself had experienced that same fear and worry, emotions that had driven him to host his own charade. If anyone should be able to forgive the two, surely it was each other. "Maybe," Pasupata allowed after a moment. "...But I haven't."
Nataraja coughed, smiling softly in bemusement. "Well, I hardly think self-preservation requires quite the same level of apologizing as breaking and entering and posing as your 'savior' just to get a leg up in society..."
Pasupata bit his lip to keep from reminding Nataraja again that he hadn't been posing as Pasupata's savior given that he had indeed saved him, which whether he liked it or not, pretty much made him a savior. "Be that as it may, I...still could've been upfront. But..."
"You were scared," Nataraja finished for him, not doing a good job of concealing his smug satisfaction at Pasupata realizing they'd had the same motivation behind their actions.
"I didn't want you to leave," Pasupata reworded for him, squeezing back the fingers that had wrapped around his own. He glanced down at the hand and rubbed a thumb over the silky material of the glove. It had been the most lavish item Nataraja had allowed himself to take with them on their journey, for he never removed it save to bathe or to trade it for one of another color or pattern. He'd seen the scars on a few occasions and had instantly felt bad for looking, knowing Nataraja had only removed it in his presence because he thought Pasupata was blind. "I thought if you knew, you'd run away, leave me..."
Nataraja snorted softly. "I'd never leave you alone with Shiva; no one could be that cruel," and it had the desired effect of making Pasupata laugh, soft and genuine. "I'm...happy, though. I guess."
"How's that?"
A shrug. "I should feel honored, right? You pretended you were blind for fifteen years, just for me."
"Well," Pasupata allowed, "It did help that one time you and Shiva convinced me to help you sneak into the concubines' tent."
Nataraja released a bark of laughter, free hand smoothly flying up to cover his mouth without a thought to releasing Pasupata's hand. "That--okay, yeah, that was definitely a good thing, then." He blinked after a moment in realization. "But--hey, it's not like you didn't get fawned over afterwards, too."
Pasupata shrugged in a well, what can you do? manner. "I was lost and couldn't very well be expected to find my way back alone, right? What if I'd lost my bearings and wandered off into the desert or something?" Nataraja rolled his eyes in amusement, obviously enjoying the way they'd yet again slipped back into their usual pandering back and forth. "...So, yeah. It had its perks."
Nataraja nodded slowly, and after a moment's silence had settled over the room, he started picking at a thread coming unravelled from the duvet. Slipping into old habit, Pasupata's vision blurred as he let himself lose focus, centering his mind instead on the sounds, smells, sensations around him. He could hear the muffled neighing of a horse in the stables below their room, with the muttering and laughing of stablehands filtering through the slats in the floor. The smell, too, of the stable was not masked very well, even by the incense burning in their room or the stewing curry boiling in a pot downstairs. Nataraja himself--and likely Pasupata, too--still smelled of the castle, his starched linen shirt not yet having taken on the musky stench of life on the road that Pasupata had familiarized himself with while training with the soldiers.
Without realizing it, Pasupata leaned forward just slightly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, and he felt the fingers in his hand clench in a spasm. "What're you doing?" came the confused question, spilling hastily from Nataraja's lips so close to his ear he could feel the breath.
Pasupata shook his head slowly, still smiling with eyes shut--it probably unsettled Nataraja, but that just made it better, in a way. "I'm just going to miss that smell."
"...We're only going to be gone a month, tops. And that's assuming I find...whatever it is I'm supposed to be looking for." Nataraja was patronizing him, but underneath the biting humor there was still an element of worry as he reminded himself that he didn't really know what the hell he was doing going on this fool's errand in the first place. "It's not like it's forever." Even if they halfway wanted it to be.
Pasupata pulled back slowly, twisting his neck just enough to look Nataraja in the eye, but their noses brushed in doing so and--then they were kissing, just like that, but frozen--like a snare had been tripped and anything they'd tamped down over the past few days came crashing back like a wall of water. One of them let loose a soft, surprised moan, lost against the other's lips--but that was the extent of any questioning or protesting, and they both relaxed just a hair, enough to invite further pressure, another tentative exploration of touch, rough wind-chapped lips brushing in experiment.
And then they were pressing against each other, not so tentative now, jockeying for even a bit of control when it wasn't even clear who'd started the kiss in the first place--not that such niggling details mattered as Pasupata opened his mouth just wide enough to dart a tongue inside, catching the faint, lingering minty taste from the pudina they'd enjoyed earlier in the evening. He brushed a tongue against Nataraja's, who in response pressed in harder, eyes squeezed shut as he ran his tongue along the inside of Pasupata's mouth as if in fear that opening them would break the spell. The pulling and pushing and pressing grew more frantic as their better minds and clearer thoughts gave way to id-driven actions and reactions
A hand at the small of Pasupata's back sent him straightening up like a lady-in-training, and his legs began to ache curled up under him. He braced his free hand on Nataraja's bicep, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the thin linen when he unconsciously gripped the fabric to pull Nataraja even closer--and it was this action that sent Nataraja nearly toppling forward onto Pasupata, stifling any further enjoyable activity when Pasupata braced himself for a backwards fall and knocked noses and teeth with his friend in the effort, barely saving them from banging foreheads by bracing another hand against Nataraja's chest.
There was a long, silent pause filled only with heavy breathing and nearly audible sound of blinking as they both processed what had just transpired. At Pasupata's hesitant reminding pressing against his chest, Nataraja quickly pulled back off of him, one leg tucked underneath himself and both palms now flat on the bed as if ready and willing to go straight into a head-to-floor apologetic bow. Pasupata could feel the dark eyes searching his face for some expression--anger, remorse, disappointment, disgust--but...he could muster nothing, was simply frozen. "...What was that?"
Another pause, nearly as long as the first. "I...You started it."
Pasupata blinked, bringing the world back into focus, and he stared at Nataraja, incredulous--it was such a childish response, so very Nataraja, and so...completely out of place. "I started it?"
Nataraja pulled back a bit more, settling to support his weight underneath himself. He gestured ambiguously with his gloved hand between them. "You--just now, you turned and then you--"
"I was going to ask you a question--"
"You were not--you--" His face was bright red from the combined embarassment of their situation and the effort he'd just put forth. "This was clearly your fault--"
"Well even if I did start it, you sure as hell seemed to enjoy it--"
"So what if I did?" And that sure stifled any further argument. "I--just, you started it." He wiped the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, eyeing Pasupata warily, as if he might make another attempt.
Pasupata looked away, frowning, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "...We're doing it again."
A pause. "...Doing what?"
"Arguing just to argue."
"I sure as hell have reason to--" His words lodged in his throat, though, when Pasupata glanced back over, lifting a thin eyebrow, and he swallowed. "...So what the hell was that?"
And Pasupata didn't know. He liked to consider himself logical, a quick thinker, a cool head to balance out the hot tempers and hasty, hare-brained ideas of Shiva and Nataraja, but...just now, he didn't know what to say. He really didn't know who'd started it--he was sure he would have remembered attempting another kiss, given that their last one hadn't appeared to have done more than shake up Nataraja. It had been impulsive, a bit desperate, and--well, something that had kept him up the few nights since. "Something."
"Something."
A nod. "Just, something. I mean, it wasn't--well, nothing."
Nataraja licked his lips. "Before. The other night, in the castle, too..."
Pasupata was nodding before Nataraja could elaborate, willing him to just shut up so he could process this new information. "...I definitely started it, then," he admitted with a nervous laughing realization. "I still don't think it was me, this time, though."
"So what, you're saying it was me?" Nataraja's voice got high, and he sounded like he'd been accused of pilfering grapes (and cashews, and dates, and a few oranges) from the kitchen stores (again). "That was not--" He cut himself off when Pasupata's gaze grew lost and thoughtful, and he amended, "...not bad. Is what I was going to say."
Pasupata blinked, and he lowered his eyes, brows furrowed. "...What were we talking about?"
"When?"
"Just now, before--before."
Nataraja collected himself, before admitting, "...I don't remember."
"Oh." Pasupata nodded, like this was to be expected. "...You really liked it?"
"Liked wha--oh. Oh." A cough. "I didn't like it, I just--" Pasupata stared him in the eyes, curious--not hopeful or wary, just curious, like he couldn't piece together his own opinion until he conferred with his friend. "...Okay yeah I really liked it." He leaned forward again on both hands, licking his lips again and fighting off what he probably didn't realize was a very goofy smile, one that made Pasupata want to smile back. "I didn't want to say--before, it's just. After...after before, you didn't say anything, and I was..."
"Scared?"
A nod, and Nataraja bit his lip. They were back at square one again. "A little, I guess?" He was staring, brows lifted in expectation, apparently waiting for Pasupata to spill about how much he'd been thinking about it too. "It...I just worried that...if I pressed you, you might..." He trailed off when Pasupata didn't launch into his own confession. "...Please say something."
"Me, too."
"...What?"
"Me, too," Pasupata repeated calmly, pulse starting to race again when he felt the tension between them return with a humming in his ear. "...To all of it. To being worried that, if I said anything or--tried anything, you'd leave me behind. To...really liking it. Both times. Even though I definitely didn't start it this time." Nataraja's brows knit in offense, and he opened his mouth to object, but Pasupata leaned forward onto his hands and knees just then, and he instead pulled back to place some much-needed distance between them. "And I don't remember what we were talking about before, either." There was another pause, and like ice melting, they both broke into nervous, self-deprecating smiles at this last one.
"So..." Nataraja started, hesitant and questioning. "Well, I'm not going to leave or anything."
"I think it's pretty obvious I'm not, either."
"Good." He nodded, as if sealing it all away. "Right, so. This--thing."
Pasupata gestured between them. "...This thing?"
A nod. "What is it?"
"...It needs a name?"
Nataraja frowned, flushing. He really preferred the fun part of this thing to the awkward conversing part of it. "I...doesn't it?"
Pasupata shrugged, cocking his head in thought. "...It doesn't...really feel that different, to me, honestly." And in truth, it didn't. Nataraja was still Nataraja. His very best friend and condidante, only...a little more, too.
"From before?" A nod. "Yeah...but--"
"--the kissing--"
"Yeah." Nataraja paused, eyes flicking down to Pasupata's lips, which hung open just a bit, still flushed red against his dark skin. "I think...I think that should definitely be...something we do."
"Right. I think--I could definitely get on board with that idea." Pasupata was already well on board with it in some respects--something he was going to have to work on if he was to get through the next month or so alone in inn after inn or--gods--huddled together in the tiny tent they'd brought along when there were no inns to be found.
There was mutual nodding, and the both turned to glance around the room, which seemed ten times smaller and more intimate now, to say nothing of the bed beneath their bodies.
The bed. "I--" Nataraja started, coughing to clear his throat , "Just...so you know, though..."
"...What?"
A pause, and Nataraja steeled himself. "...I'm still not giving you the bed."
Author: fencer_x
Pairing: Nataraja/Pasupata
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nataraja and Pasupata take a trip. Along the way, there are two rooms, two beds, a smelly inn--and lots of awkwardness :D
Notes: Because I just couldn't help myself :P Another fic in this universe~
When the knock came at the thick wooden door separating his room from the drafty hallway of the ritziest inn he'd been able to afford (which was: slightly fewer fleas and bedbugs in the mattress than the inn across the street), Nataraja knew it was probably too much to hope it was the Master with his bucket of hot water for his bath. He grabbed the latch with no small amount of hesitation, long fingers wrapping around the handle as he steeled himself for the inevitable.
"...No."
In the doorway, Pasupata frowned. "Why not?"
Nataraja jerked his head towards the musty duvet and straw-filled pillow his friend had tucked under his arm. "Because we paid for your room and you're sleeping in it."
"I never said I was sleeping in it."
A beat. "...Then why did we pay for it?"
Pasupata's smile returned, knowing, and he ducked under the arm Nataraja had braced against the doorjamb to keep him out, making himself at home. "Did you want to be the one to ask for a single room for two men?"
Nataraja flushed, frowning at the patronizing tone. "Well--no, but--why?" He waved towards the hallway, shutting the door so their argument didn't attract more attention than their presence already had; suffice to say, despite donning relatively plain-looking clothes (much to Nataraja's distaste) they hardly looked like innocent, weary travelers as most of the inn's other occupants were.
It was a week's journey by foot to the shanty town Nataraja had called home years ago (which was at best a half-truth--as he couldn't precisely remember the town--and at worst, an outright lie--as he had never called any one place home until he'd joined Shiva and Pasupata in the palace). Nataraja had declined the carriage Shiva had graciously offered them after finishing his tantrum over not being allowed to join them, something Nataraja felt horrible for being happy at. It wasn't that he disliked Shiva's companionship--far from it; they were more alike than Nataraja cared to admit at times, which was frightening. It was only that...just now, this was something he needed to settle with Pasupata and Pasupata alone. Shiva couldn't understand the strains under which Nataraja and Pasupata had formed their friendship, and it was high time they remolded it and made it stronger.
Besides, Shiva had a kingdom to rule, as his advisers had reminded him. Nataraja had silently thanked any god listening for those helpful words of placating.
He groaned to himself when Pasupata calmly shook out the duvet, building himself a cozy little nest on the floor beside Nataraja's rickety bed, and Pasupata gave him a look, half concern and half annoyance. "What, you don't want me here?"
"That's--not it," Nataraja snapped back defensively, crossing his arms and looking away.
"...Then what's the big deal?" He punched the pillow a few times to fluff it up, setting it at the head of the pallet with a soft murmur of content, nodding to himself. He placed his hands on his hips and turned back to Nataraja. "...Or is there even really a problem?"
Brows furrowed, Nataraja whipped his head back around. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Pasupata shrugged. "Sometimes you argue just to have an excuse to be contrary."
"Do not!"
"See?" Nataraja was properly cowed, and Pasupata shook his head, biting his lip to fight a smile. "It's not necessarily bad, though, it's just...really you. You don't like accepting things you think you haven't earned, so you try to fight them off."
He snorted in disbelief. "I'm supposed to earn you barging into my room and sleeping on my floor and making me afraid I'm going to step on you if I ever have to get up and pee in the middle of the night? Wow, how ever can I expect to merit that honor?"
Pasupata flopped back on the bed, spread eagle--it was best not to think about all the mites lurking just inside the mattress, he supposed. "You could let me have the bed."
"You have a bed. In the room right next to this one."
"I like yours better."
"Why?"
"It's in your room."
Nataraja just rolled his eyes and stalked forward, sitting at the edge of the bed and twisting around to glare down at his friend. "I don't even know why I invited you on this trip. You're nothing but trouble and we've only been on the road for a day."
Pasupata pushed himself up onto his elbows, cocking his head to one side. "You said it was because I was your friend."
Nataraja's harsh mien softened a bit, and he became quite interested in the threading on the coverlet. "That doesn't sound like something I'd say."
"Well you did." He sniffed, and glanced away. "You said a lot of things."
Nataraja licked his lips. "You know--" Pasupata turned back to him, brows knit in curiosity. "--I...didn't meant it." The expression now shifted to one of fear and disappointment, jolting Nataraja into continuing his explanation. "What I said, back...at the tomb. That I never thought of you and Shiva as my friends." He shrugged. "I was just...scared, I guess. That when you found out who I really was, you'd never forgive me, and I'd be thrown out of the palace and--and it's not that I was scared of being thrown out, understand? Just, not...being around you two. And Adis made it sound like it would've been a better world, I guess. I...I dunno, maybe I still kind of think it would." He swallowed, and locked eyes with Pasupata to impress his conviction. "But I never would've left you behind. Not before, and not now."
Pasupata's expression softened, and he bit his lip, praying the low light in the room concealed his blush better than he was at suppressing it. Truthfully, he hadn't expected so frank a confession. "...Well, I did mean what I said." Nataraja frowned, his turn to be confused. "You know crap like station and blood don't mean anything to me or Shiva--"
"--It wasn't just that--"
"Well it sure as hell was a big part of it!" He caught himself before his voice got much louder, checking his temper; while Pasupata considered himself relatively easygoing--you kind of had to be, to not go crazy being Shiva's friend and oftentimes co-conspirator--sometimes Nataraja could just be so thick when it came to his past. The few times it had ever come up in conversation before, the man had quickly clammed up or changed the subject entirely, slipping on a mask of nonchalantness as thin and false as any other gaudy costume in his wardrobe.
Those first few weeks had been the worst; lies was how their friendship had started, lies on both boys' parts. "Who's there? What's going on? I--I'm blind, I can't see anything. Is that--smoke?" and "Just--hold on, here. Take my hand, I'll get us out. I think...there's a fire. I saw smoke, and--I just ran inside. I just ran inside." And he'd always thought that, deep down, Nataraja had to have known the truth, surely couldn't have missed the way Pasupata's eyes followed him when he wasn't thinking, before he'd trained himself to see without seeing and let his eye wander but never linger.
He felt the bed dip a bit and started when he felt a hand cover his own--soft, lavish fabric of long, glove-covered fingers grabbed feebly at the fingertips closest. "I was scared, and I was stupid. And I apologized." Nataraja's face was close and his expression penitent, but only just so; his pride had withstood just about enough apologizing, and now he was treading into territory where he was feeling less apologetic and more defensive, likely wondering just how much longer he was going to have to duck his head and say he was sorry before they could move on.
Pasupata kicked himself mentally; he was being an ass now, brushing off Nataraja's feelings as inconsequential and irrational, when he himself had experienced that same fear and worry, emotions that had driven him to host his own charade. If anyone should be able to forgive the two, surely it was each other. "Maybe," Pasupata allowed after a moment. "...But I haven't."
Nataraja coughed, smiling softly in bemusement. "Well, I hardly think self-preservation requires quite the same level of apologizing as breaking and entering and posing as your 'savior' just to get a leg up in society..."
Pasupata bit his lip to keep from reminding Nataraja again that he hadn't been posing as Pasupata's savior given that he had indeed saved him, which whether he liked it or not, pretty much made him a savior. "Be that as it may, I...still could've been upfront. But..."
"You were scared," Nataraja finished for him, not doing a good job of concealing his smug satisfaction at Pasupata realizing they'd had the same motivation behind their actions.
"I didn't want you to leave," Pasupata reworded for him, squeezing back the fingers that had wrapped around his own. He glanced down at the hand and rubbed a thumb over the silky material of the glove. It had been the most lavish item Nataraja had allowed himself to take with them on their journey, for he never removed it save to bathe or to trade it for one of another color or pattern. He'd seen the scars on a few occasions and had instantly felt bad for looking, knowing Nataraja had only removed it in his presence because he thought Pasupata was blind. "I thought if you knew, you'd run away, leave me..."
Nataraja snorted softly. "I'd never leave you alone with Shiva; no one could be that cruel," and it had the desired effect of making Pasupata laugh, soft and genuine. "I'm...happy, though. I guess."
"How's that?"
A shrug. "I should feel honored, right? You pretended you were blind for fifteen years, just for me."
"Well," Pasupata allowed, "It did help that one time you and Shiva convinced me to help you sneak into the concubines' tent."
Nataraja released a bark of laughter, free hand smoothly flying up to cover his mouth without a thought to releasing Pasupata's hand. "That--okay, yeah, that was definitely a good thing, then." He blinked after a moment in realization. "But--hey, it's not like you didn't get fawned over afterwards, too."
Pasupata shrugged in a well, what can you do? manner. "I was lost and couldn't very well be expected to find my way back alone, right? What if I'd lost my bearings and wandered off into the desert or something?" Nataraja rolled his eyes in amusement, obviously enjoying the way they'd yet again slipped back into their usual pandering back and forth. "...So, yeah. It had its perks."
Nataraja nodded slowly, and after a moment's silence had settled over the room, he started picking at a thread coming unravelled from the duvet. Slipping into old habit, Pasupata's vision blurred as he let himself lose focus, centering his mind instead on the sounds, smells, sensations around him. He could hear the muffled neighing of a horse in the stables below their room, with the muttering and laughing of stablehands filtering through the slats in the floor. The smell, too, of the stable was not masked very well, even by the incense burning in their room or the stewing curry boiling in a pot downstairs. Nataraja himself--and likely Pasupata, too--still smelled of the castle, his starched linen shirt not yet having taken on the musky stench of life on the road that Pasupata had familiarized himself with while training with the soldiers.
Without realizing it, Pasupata leaned forward just slightly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, and he felt the fingers in his hand clench in a spasm. "What're you doing?" came the confused question, spilling hastily from Nataraja's lips so close to his ear he could feel the breath.
Pasupata shook his head slowly, still smiling with eyes shut--it probably unsettled Nataraja, but that just made it better, in a way. "I'm just going to miss that smell."
"...We're only going to be gone a month, tops. And that's assuming I find...whatever it is I'm supposed to be looking for." Nataraja was patronizing him, but underneath the biting humor there was still an element of worry as he reminded himself that he didn't really know what the hell he was doing going on this fool's errand in the first place. "It's not like it's forever." Even if they halfway wanted it to be.
Pasupata pulled back slowly, twisting his neck just enough to look Nataraja in the eye, but their noses brushed in doing so and--then they were kissing, just like that, but frozen--like a snare had been tripped and anything they'd tamped down over the past few days came crashing back like a wall of water. One of them let loose a soft, surprised moan, lost against the other's lips--but that was the extent of any questioning or protesting, and they both relaxed just a hair, enough to invite further pressure, another tentative exploration of touch, rough wind-chapped lips brushing in experiment.
And then they were pressing against each other, not so tentative now, jockeying for even a bit of control when it wasn't even clear who'd started the kiss in the first place--not that such niggling details mattered as Pasupata opened his mouth just wide enough to dart a tongue inside, catching the faint, lingering minty taste from the pudina they'd enjoyed earlier in the evening. He brushed a tongue against Nataraja's, who in response pressed in harder, eyes squeezed shut as he ran his tongue along the inside of Pasupata's mouth as if in fear that opening them would break the spell. The pulling and pushing and pressing grew more frantic as their better minds and clearer thoughts gave way to id-driven actions and reactions
A hand at the small of Pasupata's back sent him straightening up like a lady-in-training, and his legs began to ache curled up under him. He braced his free hand on Nataraja's bicep, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the thin linen when he unconsciously gripped the fabric to pull Nataraja even closer--and it was this action that sent Nataraja nearly toppling forward onto Pasupata, stifling any further enjoyable activity when Pasupata braced himself for a backwards fall and knocked noses and teeth with his friend in the effort, barely saving them from banging foreheads by bracing another hand against Nataraja's chest.
There was a long, silent pause filled only with heavy breathing and nearly audible sound of blinking as they both processed what had just transpired. At Pasupata's hesitant reminding pressing against his chest, Nataraja quickly pulled back off of him, one leg tucked underneath himself and both palms now flat on the bed as if ready and willing to go straight into a head-to-floor apologetic bow. Pasupata could feel the dark eyes searching his face for some expression--anger, remorse, disappointment, disgust--but...he could muster nothing, was simply frozen. "...What was that?"
Another pause, nearly as long as the first. "I...You started it."
Pasupata blinked, bringing the world back into focus, and he stared at Nataraja, incredulous--it was such a childish response, so very Nataraja, and so...completely out of place. "I started it?"
Nataraja pulled back a bit more, settling to support his weight underneath himself. He gestured ambiguously with his gloved hand between them. "You--just now, you turned and then you--"
"I was going to ask you a question--"
"You were not--you--" His face was bright red from the combined embarassment of their situation and the effort he'd just put forth. "This was clearly your fault--"
"Well even if I did start it, you sure as hell seemed to enjoy it--"
"So what if I did?" And that sure stifled any further argument. "I--just, you started it." He wiped the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, eyeing Pasupata warily, as if he might make another attempt.
Pasupata looked away, frowning, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "...We're doing it again."
A pause. "...Doing what?"
"Arguing just to argue."
"I sure as hell have reason to--" His words lodged in his throat, though, when Pasupata glanced back over, lifting a thin eyebrow, and he swallowed. "...So what the hell was that?"
And Pasupata didn't know. He liked to consider himself logical, a quick thinker, a cool head to balance out the hot tempers and hasty, hare-brained ideas of Shiva and Nataraja, but...just now, he didn't know what to say. He really didn't know who'd started it--he was sure he would have remembered attempting another kiss, given that their last one hadn't appeared to have done more than shake up Nataraja. It had been impulsive, a bit desperate, and--well, something that had kept him up the few nights since. "Something."
"Something."
A nod. "Just, something. I mean, it wasn't--well, nothing."
Nataraja licked his lips. "Before. The other night, in the castle, too..."
Pasupata was nodding before Nataraja could elaborate, willing him to just shut up so he could process this new information. "...I definitely started it, then," he admitted with a nervous laughing realization. "I still don't think it was me, this time, though."
"So what, you're saying it was me?" Nataraja's voice got high, and he sounded like he'd been accused of pilfering grapes (and cashews, and dates, and a few oranges) from the kitchen stores (again). "That was not--" He cut himself off when Pasupata's gaze grew lost and thoughtful, and he amended, "...not bad. Is what I was going to say."
Pasupata blinked, and he lowered his eyes, brows furrowed. "...What were we talking about?"
"When?"
"Just now, before--before."
Nataraja collected himself, before admitting, "...I don't remember."
"Oh." Pasupata nodded, like this was to be expected. "...You really liked it?"
"Liked wha--oh. Oh." A cough. "I didn't like it, I just--" Pasupata stared him in the eyes, curious--not hopeful or wary, just curious, like he couldn't piece together his own opinion until he conferred with his friend. "...Okay yeah I really liked it." He leaned forward again on both hands, licking his lips again and fighting off what he probably didn't realize was a very goofy smile, one that made Pasupata want to smile back. "I didn't want to say--before, it's just. After...after before, you didn't say anything, and I was..."
"Scared?"
A nod, and Nataraja bit his lip. They were back at square one again. "A little, I guess?" He was staring, brows lifted in expectation, apparently waiting for Pasupata to spill about how much he'd been thinking about it too. "It...I just worried that...if I pressed you, you might..." He trailed off when Pasupata didn't launch into his own confession. "...Please say something."
"Me, too."
"...What?"
"Me, too," Pasupata repeated calmly, pulse starting to race again when he felt the tension between them return with a humming in his ear. "...To all of it. To being worried that, if I said anything or--tried anything, you'd leave me behind. To...really liking it. Both times. Even though I definitely didn't start it this time." Nataraja's brows knit in offense, and he opened his mouth to object, but Pasupata leaned forward onto his hands and knees just then, and he instead pulled back to place some much-needed distance between them. "And I don't remember what we were talking about before, either." There was another pause, and like ice melting, they both broke into nervous, self-deprecating smiles at this last one.
"So..." Nataraja started, hesitant and questioning. "Well, I'm not going to leave or anything."
"I think it's pretty obvious I'm not, either."
"Good." He nodded, as if sealing it all away. "Right, so. This--thing."
Pasupata gestured between them. "...This thing?"
A nod. "What is it?"
"...It needs a name?"
Nataraja frowned, flushing. He really preferred the fun part of this thing to the awkward conversing part of it. "I...doesn't it?"
Pasupata shrugged, cocking his head in thought. "...It doesn't...really feel that different, to me, honestly." And in truth, it didn't. Nataraja was still Nataraja. His very best friend and condidante, only...a little more, too.
"From before?" A nod. "Yeah...but--"
"--the kissing--"
"Yeah." Nataraja paused, eyes flicking down to Pasupata's lips, which hung open just a bit, still flushed red against his dark skin. "I think...I think that should definitely be...something we do."
"Right. I think--I could definitely get on board with that idea." Pasupata was already well on board with it in some respects--something he was going to have to work on if he was to get through the next month or so alone in inn after inn or--gods--huddled together in the tiny tent they'd brought along when there were no inns to be found.
There was mutual nodding, and the both turned to glance around the room, which seemed ten times smaller and more intimate now, to say nothing of the bed beneath their bodies.
The bed. "I--" Nataraja started, coughing to clear his throat , "Just...so you know, though..."
"...What?"
A pause, and Nataraja steeled himself. "...I'm still not giving you the bed."